Page 57 of Married into the Mob
It scented of fabric conditioner but also of him. “Sorry, it was on the bed.”
“I left it there for you.” There was silence as we sipped our drinks. “You’ll be going home once we clarify the details on Stefan, the Silverbacks, and Draven’s whereabouts.”
Two days ago that would have brought me joy. Moments ago I’d wondered if we could share a home, but now that he’d brought up me leaving, my belly contracted as if I was going to throw up. He’d been in my life for two days and yet the idea of being parted from him tore shreds off my heart.
“But not yet.” He glanced at me as he spoke.
“Not yet.” He’d never love another, and that burden weighed heavy, knowing he’d be alone for the rest of his life.
“You know, in the past, people were happy with arranged marriages.”
“Mmmm. That happens in packs if people never meet their fated mate.”
“Maybe.” I was about to say something that might be the biggest mistake of my life. “We could try that ‘cause we mated and married?—”
He shushed me, and his pained expression was more apparent than earlier. “No.”
What the fuck? He wanted me more than anything, and yet he refused with one word. No explanation, nothing that softened the blow. He just alpha-ed his way into the discussion and slammed my idea. Maybe all that stuff about the alphas of old and how things had changed and blah blah blah was just BS.
“Huh? You didn’t let me finish.”
“It wouldn’t work.” I went to speak again, to tell him he was an ass, but he continued with, “It’s sweet what you’re trying to do.” He patted his chest. “In my heart, I would love that more than anything. But you don’t care for me the way I do for you, and you would end up resenting me.”
I wouldn’t. Anger was festering inside me, and I wanted to smack him, make him see sense, but he was, “Oh woe is me.I’ll never love anyone else. You have to go and live your life.”
“Don’t tell me what I think and how I feel. You jerk!”Something was seriously wrong with me. I was being the asshat, and I didn’t know where the frustration and rage was coming from. I’d never behaved this way previously. Being around the mafia had done a number on my head.
I stomped through the door but ended up in the bathroom, one for a damned king.
“Need me to sing?”
I gritted my teeth, wondering if I needed a retainer, and hissed, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Thought you might be claustrophobic.”
I charged out of the bathroom, eyes filled with tears, rage spilling out so I was trembling. “No. You’re not listening to me. I’m trying to tell you something.”
“I’m sorry.”
His defeated expression tore at my heart, but I plowed on, anger fueling me.
“So you should be. It’s been two days since we met, I think.” My ability to do math was diminished. “But you.” I stabbed a finger against this chest. “You… you mafia guy, you.” Obviously I’d lost my mastery of the English language as well. “It’s ridiculous. Two days. Forty-eight hours, not even half a week.”
“Are we doing math again? Because if we are, I need a calculator.” He tapped his phone.
“Ahhhhhh! Fuck math, fuck English, fuck everything. Fuck you.” That was a lot, and Hunter’s face, his hot, handsome, caring, protective, confused face didn’t help. “I don’t know that I can match what’s in your heart, but I feel something for you, you big… big… nincompoop.”
“Something like rage?”
His words popped my anger like a pin in a balloon, and I laughed, a hysterical sound that should have worried anyone listening.
“No. Something like… love.”
TWENTY-THREE
HUNTER
I didn’t know what to say. Something like love he’d said. I repeated it in my head, wondering if it was real.
