Page 24 of His Vicious Desire

“I did.”The words are soft.A sigh comes out of him.“I keep the place empty to keep my little brother from coming over and annoying me.Since he brings up the past—the years of us growing up when I would rather forget it.As far as this house, it belonged to my in-laws, and when my father-in-law died… With my wife dead and her husband dead, my mother-in-law ended her life.This was their place, and I liked it more than where I was living.I moved in here six years ago.It’s not that I don’t like furniture.I just don’t care about what’s not necessary.”

My stomach drops, and my chest twists painfully.“You were married?And she died?”

A small nod.

“Did you love her, and that’s why you’re so mean?Because you’re sad she’s dead.”

His laugh is bitter, without humor.“I’m mean because I was forced into a marriage at nineteen with a seventeen-year-old girl who made my life hell.My only release from that hell was her death five years after we married.Her death wasn’t a surprise.It was a long, hellish four years of hospitals, chemo, radiation, and nurses.She had childhood leukemia that kept coming back before it finally killed her.I’m glad she’s dead.Don’t look so sad, angel.Neither one of us deserve your tears.”

“Why did they force you to marry her?”Escapes between numb lips.

“Eat your burrito.”It’s an order.When I take a bite, he nods.“Her parents came to me when she was sixteen to discuss me marrying her.”

“Sixteen?”I’m glad I swallowed my bite of food because I would have choked on it.

His jaw is tight.“She wanted me after seeing me at ala familiaevent.The whole thing grossed me out.I was eighteen at the time and not really interested in marriage.As far as I was concerned, marriage wasn’t for another decade or something.Her father teamed up with my father.My father was pissed at me for resisting and finally said if I didn’t marry her, he would block access to my brothers.For me, my brothers were the most important thing in my life.I needed to ensure they were taken care of because my father was a functioning alcoholic who rarely remembered he had children.The only good thing to come from the marriage was it gave me the excuse to never marry again that the bosses understand.They aren’t saying I need to marry the way they talk about Sandro and Luca.”

My stomach twists painfully.“Why did she make you miserable?”

“Because she thought wanting was love.Except even the wanting she had for me was bizarre.I wasn’t a real person to her.She was a kid who didn’t know the first thing about love.She thought she could make me love her if she tried hard enough—I only felt suffocated.In the end, I was grateful when she died.”

It sounds like they were both miserable.I couldn’t imagine being tied to Gaetano and him not even liking me let alone loving me—it sounds like pure hell.

I focus on the burrito and take another bite.Until a thought hits me.“You’re not weirded out this place could be haunted with everyone dying in it?”

Actual laughter comes pouring out of him.I’m so freaking proud of being able to make him laugh not once but twice.A part of me aches at how rusty it sounds, like he doesn’t do it often, and it’s almost new to him.

Shaking his head.“I’m not because, as far as I know, no one has ever died in this house.My father-in-law died due to a car accident.They got him to the hospital and got him a few more hours before he died.As for my mother-in-law, she wasn’t taking any chances, and she used her sister’s gun at her home.When he died, I took all the weapons in the house—per his request.I think he knew she would do something.So, while she was dealing with everything at the hospital, I cleaned the place out.”

A commercial comes on about a college game, and I’m reminded I’m supposed to be at school right now.“Shit.I need to email my professors and see who will be cool and who will fail my ass.”

Hoping to catch them before they leave for the day, I move fast into the bedroom and walk-in closet.Oh wow.The closet is huge.It’s bigger than my dorm room was, and it’s filled with clothes.While almost all of his clothes are black, there are a few different dark colors like gray, blue, and brown.I lose count of how many suits he has.His casual clothes are barely casual, there almost no t-shirts and only five pairs of jeans.

I’m jealous of the number of shoes he has.There are fifteen pairs of handmade dress shoes, twelve pairs of sneakers, and four pairs of work boots.Everything I can see looks brand new, with no rips, tears, or even a stray thread, both clothes and shoes.The difference between this filled-to-the-brim closet versus the empty house means something but I have no idea what it could even be.

Giving up on figuring it out for now, I focus on my stuff on top of the large island.I blush as I see my panties and bras folded neatly on my shirts and leggings.There is no memory of me folding this stuff or even what it is.Did I do this?Did he do it?Or did he see my stuff like this while he emptied the drawer?

Ugh, never mind.It’s done.Focus girl.It’s frustrating how I know I need more than bathroom stuff, but can’t remember what I do need.

I count three pairs of panties, four bras, two pairs of leggings, a super stretchy camisole I had to have grabbed by accident, and three shirts.

Great, I’m going to need to grab more stuff.I freaking hate buying fat clothes at any place that isn’t a fat chick store.The red bullseye place is okay, but the clothes are super cheap and don’t always fit quite right.

In my purse, I find my phone.There isn’t a single missed call or text from anyone—not even Sandro.Twenty-four hours without a phone, and no one knew or cared enough to reach out to me.Shaking my head, I blink back the tears and refuse to think about it.

I get into my email as I walk back into the living room.It’s going to take me a minute to write this freaking email.

“You aren’t done with your burrito,” Gaetano says as I sit down again.

Sighing, I take a bite.“Can I get something to drink?”

“Yeah, I got sweet tea, Coke, orange juice, and coffee.”He stands.

“Sweet tea, please.”

I’m deleting my last sentence when he comes back with a glass and hands it to me.I take a sip and try again to write something better.A few more tries and a bite of the burrito, and it’s as good as it’s going to get.

“What do you think?”I offer him my phone.

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