Page 32 of Forbidden

“Why did you have to lie to me?” she fires back, biting my lip hard enough to sting.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” Just thirty seconds in, kissing her like his, of having her in my arms, and I know that I am totally fucked.

It's not a hard decision to come to. Hell, it's not even a decision, if I'm being honest. Judging from the cold look on her face and the way she leans into my kiss, I can tell that she's thinking one of two things: bolt or fight me on this.

“Sweetheart—”

She pushes me back and walks out of my embrace. “No, don't call me that,” she says, her voice gravelly, insistent. “I'm not your sweetheart or your…Pen.”

“You know my truth now,” I say. “I don't want to lie to you. This is the man I am.”

Penelope doesn't say anything for a couple of seconds. In that time, I watch her every move, from the way her eyes dart around the house like she's trying to remember it for the last time to the way she skips backward, edging toward the door.

“Penelope, I haven't changed from the man you knew when Sophia was here.” I cover the space between us so quickly that she lets out a sharp gasp of fear when I reach her. My brows crease together on instinct when I see the fear etched across her beautiful face. “I'm still the same man you've known. The same man you've always known—”

“You have a dark side,” she groans. I notice the tremor in her voice and in the way she still can't seem to look me in the eyes. My blood begins to run cold at the thought that maybe my honesty is going to be the one thing that drives her away for good. “You kill people in cold blood. You're not a good man.”

“Is that who you're looking for? A good man?”

“Yes.”

I reach a hand up to cup her cheek. It's stained with her tears. I can see that she's hurt and afraid and clearly shaken up but when I touch her like this and hold her close, we become one. She's mine just as I'm hers and I don't think anything or anyone can change that.

“I can't let you leave me, Penelope.”

That's what gets to her because then, she's trembling even more. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Jesus Christ, Pen, I'm not a monster!” I don't think anyone's ever asked me a question that's managed to both rile and hurt me like this. To kill her? Sure, I've taken the lives of enemies before. When I'm presented with the choice of taking a person's life and ending their deceit or showing mercy to them and risking a betrayal, I go for the former.

I kill people, yes. But I sure as hell won’t touch this lady in front of me.

I didn't think I'd feel this way for someone. I don't think this feeling is meant to be short lived. I think my obsession with Penelope is so great I'd become ruined if it didn't pan out.

“If you aren't gonna kill me, why won't you let me leave?”

A part of me—the old, nonchalant me—wants to open the door and let her leave. Honor style. I want to let her go so she can be safe because my world isn't the kind people like her stay in and survive. But if I do let her go, I'm destroying myself in the process.

“Call it selfish, Pen, but I can't do that.”

“Adriano—”

I pick up my gun, then twirl it around in my palm and flip around to where she's still huddled by the door. When she sees the gun in my hand, she pushes backward until her body’s pressed against the door.

“Don't hurt me, please.”

I stumble back to her, take her palm out, then place the gun there. Then, I raise her hand wrapped around the gun and dare her to look me in the eye.

“Listen to me and listen to me well because I’m going to make sure you hear this every chance I get. I’m not letting you leave because I’m incapable of doing that. You're a drug I’m addicted to. I'm addicted to you, to your body, your smell, your soul. Sweetheart, I could never hurt you. I exist for you. My heart is in you and if it isn't beating for me anymore, say it.”

“Adriano…”

“Say that this changes everything,” I growl, hurt. “Say that what you've just discovered doesn’t make you hate me.”

“I'm scared, Adriano.” Her voice is small and fragile. This has affected her way more than I'd bargained for. Maybe I really should let her go.

“You're frightened of me.” It's not a question. I can see it in the way she looks at me now.

But she shakes her head, biting the insides of her cheeks, before saying, “I don't know what to tell you. You're still you but…I don't know.”

---