Page 64 of Ruthless God

The thought was almost too horrible to contemplate.

When I didn’t answer him, he pushed away from the kitchen island, taking me with him and startling me by the move.

“Come on,” he said.

“Where are we going?”

“To have breakfast.”

I looked down at my feet as he pulled me out of there, his hand wrapped around mine, warm and dry.

“I’m sorry,” I said miserably.

He turned to me, and I nearly stuttered in my steps over the glint in his green eyes.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” he asked.

“We don’t have breakfast at home because of me,” I answered quietly. “We won’t have any home-cooked meals for a while.”

How had I managed to ruin what was supposed to be an idyllic morning?

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Massimo asked mildly. Sometimes, I wished he was as emotional as Andre. I never had to guess what mood Andre was in. Even if my stepfather was more prone to fly off the handle at a moment’s notice, it somehow felt safer for me than Massimo’s perpetual calmness.

I shrugged, not really knowing how to answer him.

He didn’t say anything to me until we were in his car. I sat in the passenger’s side, trying to make myself as small as possibleas Massimo started the sleek black car that I didn’t know the name of, but I was sure probably cost as much as a regular person’s house.

I forced myself to relax when Massimo turned to me.

“I don’t care about not having breakfast in the house. I meant to take you out to see Las Vegas, but things have been…busy. Now is as good a time as any to see what the city has to offer, no?”

“Besides dry air and blistering heat?” I asked, my lips twisting slightly at my joke. I was getting too comfortable with Massimo for my own good.

The image of him taking me in our bed two mornings ago, of him touching me, drawing out my pleasure, had my cheeks flushing. It was hard not to get comfortable with the man, at least to some extent, when he touched me so intimately. When he had seen a side of me no one else had before.

Massimo matched my smile. “Yes, darling. Besides that.”

I nodded and turned to look out the window as Massimo pulled away from the property. We didn’t talk on the drive over to the restaurant. I was too busy taking in all the new sights. With all the people and feeling so inadequate, a small knot started to form in the pit of my stomach. Should Massimo be with someone a little less…me? Someone worldly. At least someone who had seen more of the world than Chicago.

I looked down at my lap, no longer wanting to take in the newness of the city. My feelings toward Massimo were nothing more than a confusing mess I didn’t want to think too much about.

It didn’t help that when he touched me, I didn’t hate it like I was supposed to. Like I thought I would, considering all the gossip I had heard over the years from the mob wives back home—how they absolutely loathed their husbands’ touch but had no choice but to endure.

I thought I would be the same.

I would have to endure Massimo’s touch, not crave it.

A heavy hand landed on my thigh. I looked up to see Massimo watching me as he pulled up to a stop at a light.

“What is going on in that head of yours?” he asked.

I wondered if he was actually expecting an answer. He wouldn’t really want to know. Husbands didn’t usually want to hear about their wives’ turmoil.

“That bad, huh?” he said. I didn’t realize I was grimacing until he said it. I quickly forced myself to relax my facial muscles. One eyebrow rose at that, and it looked like he wanted to say something more until the car behind us honked. I jumped from the sound, and Massimo frowned at the car through the rearview mirror.

“The light’s changed,” I said.

He shook his head and finally drove off, keeping his eyes on the road. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. The rest of the drive was thankfully quick, if a little tense. Though it seemed only I felt tension. Massimo was a picture of ease.

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