Page 66 of Mafia Boss's Fake Wife

“You,” Marco breathes. “You were… different.”

“When?”

“Just now. When we were in the car.”

“In the…” my voice trails off. I must look terribly confused, because Marco’s lips thin into a frustrated line.

“You weren’t you, Roisin. It was like talking to someone who had completely just… you were gone,” he growls.

I have absolutely no idea what he’s saying. Frustration makes his jaw clench, and he spins. “Never fucking mind,” he mutters.

The bathroom door slams behind him.

Leaving me alone.

Naked.

And still shaking from that kiss.

When I fully compose myself, I’m ready to give Marco a piece of my fucking mind.

He doesn’t get to just…dothat.

Walk into the bathroom, kiss me like the world’s ending, and then… blame me for something that’s utterly and completely illogical.

You weren’t you.

I wasme.

Just… the version of me that’s a little more guarded. I guess.

As I should be, though.

I huff, my thoughts swirling as I rip open the door to my room and stomp down the hallway. I’m not sure why he thinks that I would just be completely unphased afterthat.

Andrei Moretti is not exactly someone that you just… walk away from.

Now that he’s involved, everything feels more complicated. Because while it’s possible that Moretti is after Anastasia, I think it’s significantly more likely that the people who are trying to frame me for murder and the people who hired Moretti are, in fact, the same people.

Which would be very, very bad.

I don’t have time for this.

If I have to figure out who is framing me, then I can’t also spend time trying to run from Moretti. I need to be able to hide here with Stassi and Liam, using Marco as my cover story, without also worrying about Andrei Moretti trying to find me.

My first instinct, honestly, is to run.

It’s the only way I can be guaranteed that I won’t die.

My survival instincts are more than just a little triggered, at the moment.

They’re going haywire.

One thing I definitely, absolutely, completely do not need is Marco bringing up… anything.

Or kissing me.

Or kissing me like he just kissed me, like the world was on fire.

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