Page 88 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
“It’s special to you.”
I nod and look up. “It was my mama’s.”
He bends his head and kisses the tip of my nose. “It suits you.”
A warm glow settles over me, and I snuggle into him.
“Will you promise me one more thing?”
I nod against his chest.
“Will you wear it when you think of me?”
I suck in a breath and lift my gaze to his. “Why?”
“Because as soon as you walk out that door, we’ll have to pretend this never happened. But if I see you wearing that, I’ll know it really did.”
I pull myself from his embrace and crawl up to his lips. He moans when I kiss him hard.
After a few minutes, we come up for air, and he holds my face in his palms.
“You know what pisses me off the most?”
“What?” I whisper.
“I fucking found you first.”
Cristiano
Sav doesn’t look up when I enter Father’s office. “What are you doing here?” he says with a clipped tongue.
“This is my home too, in case you’d forgotten.” I use the sharp retort to cover up my surprise at his blunt tone. “And I thought you might be happy to see your little brother.”
He rests our father’s favorite Montblanc pen on the leather surface of the antique desk and releases a tight breath. I’m impressed at how quickly he’s made himself at home in Father’s office.
He stands without looking at me. “I thought you were staying at your apartment. According to my staff, you seem to find it preferable to take my fiancée there than to keep an eye on her here.”
My blood runs cold. He can’t suspect there’s something between me and Trilby, can he? He hasn’t been around enoughto see anything that would give him pause. Besides, I find it hard to believe he even cares.
“It’s just easier,” I say, following him out to the kitchen. “You shouldn’t leave her alone so much, Sav. She’s too ... spirited. Twice I’ve found her in nightclubs ...”
“Is she a drunk?” His lip curls.
“No.” I flinch at his brevity. “But the same can’t be said for the company she keeps.” I wouldn’t categorize Sandrine as a drunk, but I wouldn’t say she was a positive influence either.
He turns and presses a hand onto the kitchen counter before glancing at the clock on the wall. “What are you saying,fratello?”
“I’m saying she’s not wise to this life. She doesn’t realize every Marchesi asshole on the street would give his left fucking testicle to kidnap her, torture her, and send you the sound of her begging for mercy.”
He pins me with a glare. “Didn’t she lose her mother to this life?”
My fingers flex automatically. “Yeah, but she doesn’t live in the Cosa Nostra. Not in the thick of it like you do. She certainly doesn’t have much comprehension of the kind of threats you and I get on a daily basis.”
I watch for some hint of understanding to cross his face, but it doesn’t. He just shrugs.
I fight the urge to curl my fists. “Don’t you care?”
His eyes narrow. “Not as much as you, it seems.”
