Page 68 of Bittersweet

“No.” I shake my head. He grabs my wrist in a vise grip and tugs me toward him so hard that the air whooshes from my lungs when I hit the wall of his muscular chest. “You’re hurtingme.”

It’s more than that though. For the first time since we met, he is actually scaring me. Marc makes a show of glancing at my wrist, which he still grips far too tightly. “Withthis?”

“Yes.” I try to pull free, but he tightens his hold. I squirm harder, and he grins and pulls me closer, laying a kiss on my lips. I can’t get away. I can’tbreathe.

I do the only thing I can with my body pressed between his and the bathroomvanity.

I bitehim.

“Jesus, Romy. What the fuck?” he hisses and backs away, and that’s all the time I need to run. I thank God for those long sessions on the treadmill when he pushed me to dig deeper, go faster, longer, because it helps me now as I race down the stairs two at a time. Marc’s heavy footfalls follow close behind. With tears flowing freely down my face, I hit the last stair and turn the corner. I collide withElio.

He cups my face and forces me to look at him. “What the hell’s goingon?”

“Marc. He . . .” With the adrenaline and fear coursing through my body, I’m panting hard, and feel the crushing weight of a panic attack eating all the air from the hall aroundme.

Elio doesn’t have time to respond because Marc is behind me. I can feel him there, like an angry bear coming to claim back what’shis.

Elio gently pulls me closer, shielding me from his brother. “It’s okay. I gotyou.”

“Let go of mygirlfriend.”

“Back off, brother.” Elio’s voice rumbles through his chest. I feel the reverberations through my ownribcage.

“Romy, get over here,now.”

I open my mouth, but Elio’s low growl stops me. “She’s not going anywhere nearyou.”

He pushes me behind him, blocking me from Marc’s line ofsight.

“And you’re, what? Going to stop me? Last time you hit me it didn’t even leave a mark,” Marcscoffs.

“Yeah well, there’s a lot of bad blood under that bridge since. I’ve been begging for anothergo.”

“It must just eat you up inside, huh? That I stole your wife, and now I’ve got Romytoo.”

“The only thing you’ve got, little brother, is the wrong idea about what it means to be a man and how to treatwomen.”

“Oh please. I made that ass. Before me, she was nothing. She was fat and pathetic, a miserable excuse for a woman, and Marc Moretti made her into a fucking champion. And you should hear the way she whimpers when she comes ‘Oh, yes Marc, just like that.’ She couldn’t wait to tear my clothesoff—”

Elio lunges, grabbing his brother by the shirt collar and pounding his fist into his cheek. Marc’s head snaps to the side with the brutality of the blow, and he goes down. Out like alight.

Elio stares at his brother, his shoulders tense as they rise and fall with his angry breaths. I reach out and grab his arm and he turns to face me, the blackness of rage still evident in his gaze. His hand is bleeding and already showing signs of swelling. He pulls out of my grasp and cups my cheek, tilting my face up to him. “Youokay?”

I don’t have words, so I simply nod as tears well in my eyes and spill down myface.

From behind us comes a shriek in Italian, and I don’t know if it came from Nonna, B, or Elio’s mother, but the hall is suddenly full of bodies, and Coco screams. Elio releases me and hurries over to his daughter, scooping her up and walking away. I have no idea what to do, so I attempt to melt into the wall as the family erupts into harsh, biting words in Italian. What I assume are insults fly all around the room. I have no idea if any of the vitriol is directed atme.

A beat later, someone tugs on my hand. I glance up and Elio is looking at me, his daughter wrapped around him and crying on his shoulder. “Come on. I’m taking youhome.”

“Just what is going on here, Elio?” his motherdemands.

“Maybe you need to ask your sonthat.”

She places her hands on her hips, her face a combination of fury and disappointment. “Well I would, but he’s out cold. And don’t you take that tone with me, young man. You can’t just come in here, steal your brother’s girlfriendand—”

“He fucked my wife, Ma,” Elio shouts, and everyone falls silent. My gaze darts to each member of Elio’s family, and then back to the man in question. Guilt roils through my stomach. “He slept with my pregnant wife, in my bed, in my house, and tonight he shows up here with the only woman I’ve cared about in a really long time and treated her like property. So, I’m taking Romy and Coco home, and I don’t wanna hear another goddamn word about myfratello. He is no brother tome.”

Oh God. PoorElio.

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