Page 91 of Seeking Vengeance

Bishop keeps his feral stare on me as I concede with a nod, clinging to the cell in my hand.

They continue talking without me, the Italian more heavily spoken than words of English. I sit there and stare at my locked screen as the sea breeze dances in my hair and Matthew’s accent plays havoc with my libido.

What if this is love?

We barely know each other… yet what I feel for Matthew holds a romanticism and tightly woven affection far more potent than anything I’ve experienced.

I yearn for him. All the time.

Even with him by my side, his arm around me, his voice in my ears, it’s not enough.

I want more.

Birds chirp, people ride past, waitresses clean tables, and all I can do is simmer in infatuation, my life shifting to revolve around the man beside me as if nothing else exists.

He’s becoming my world.

I swallow, attempting to alleviate my parched throat, and unlock my cell to swipe through numerous unread messages from my siblings. I make sure to keep the screen tilted from view as I scan Cole’s condemning texts, and those from Keira that are equally accusatory but cleverly intoned with concern.

Would either of them care that I’m at peace here?

Would they deny me this happiness?

I reach for my latte and take a sip, wishing I had someone to talk to, but my sister is the only confidant I’ve ever had.

I haven’t risked the luxury of friends since childhood. My family’s reputation has kiboshed the ability to trust anyone outside our inner circle.

There’s only Keira. A sibling who usually forgives but never forgets.

Matthew’s fingers brush reassuring strokes against my shoulder as I contemplate reaching out to her. I breathe deeper of his scent, sink further into the confidence in his tone. I become bolder in his embrace. Stronger.

My pulse pounds as I hover my fingers above a new text, Keira’s cell number the recipient.

If I tell her, there’s no going back.

I won’t be able to pretend this is a temporary fling. Our relationship will be real. Undeniable. I’ll have to commit to telling him who I am in the future and face the possibility of him walking away.

My heart plunges. My stomach, too.

I tilt my face to look at him, watching intently as he speaks flawless Italian, trying to hide my lust when he shoots me a knowing smirk before returning his attention to Lorenzo.

He leans in again, his heated breath tickling my neck as he murmurs, “Don’t look at me like that or I’ll be forced to fuck you on this table.”

I sit taller. Clear my throat. Pretend my sex isn’t already preparing for the actions of his threat, and start typing—Keira, I think I’m in love.

23

Layla

Her response comes thickand fast.

What?!

Where are you?

Who is he?

How long have you known him?

---