Page 81 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
I sneak carefully past him, wincing when a section of the pier makes a creaking noise.
“Where are you going?” Dario’s voice comes from the darkness at the end of the pier.
I narrow my eyes, see his shape standing on the sand.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Keeping watch on you,” he says as if it’s obvious. “Now, answer my question.”
“I need to clear my head.”
He steps into my path when I try to walk past him. Like a shield blocking my way. Or protecting me. Or both.
“Does that seem like a good idea considering the circumstances?”
“Probably not, but I’m doing it, anyway. I can’t sleep, and I’m sick of staring at the walls.”
“I’m coming with you then.”
“Suit yourself.”
We walk along the beach. I shiver, then laugh when he slips off his shirt and drapes it over my shoulders.
“You’ll do anything to show off your muscles,” I mutter, hugging his shirt around me.
He makes it so hard to stay mad at him.
“I’m just happy to hear you laugh,” he says sincerely.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“You’re a stranger.”
“I’ve heard that before…”
“This isn’t the same as before,” I tell him. “You’re not just a ‘oh he’s cute and interesting but we’re from different economicworlds’ stranger anymore. Now, you’re a ‘I wonder how many people he’s killed’ sort of stranger.”
“I’ve never killed anyone,” he says bluntly.
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
“I’ve broken bones, beaten people to a pulp. I’ve threatened. I’m no angel, but so far, I haven’t been forced to take a life.”
“But you would.”
“If it came to it, if a man gave me a good reason, then yes, I would. But I wouldn’t relish it.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” I huff.
“I’m just happy you’re talking to me at all.”
“It’s against my better judgment.”
“Then let’s hope your judgment stays poor then …”
I try not to respond to his smirk, but it’s difficult. “I shouldn’t believe anything you say,” I tell him. “Maybe you’ve killed dozens of people. How would I know any different?”
