Page 55 of Tormented Diamonds
“Did Victoria?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want them back.Bad move, Becca. Bad, bad move.I glance up to find his face a slab of granite.“I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“Yes, it was.”
“It’s just that multiple people are trying to kill me, for what appears to be no other reason than my affiliation with men they believe to have wronged them. I thought we were a team, but one of them gets close and you bail. How do you think that makes me feel?” I don’t wait for an answer. “I’ll tell you … alone, abandoned, shut out of a relationshipyouforced. I tried to push you away—not once, not twice, but three times.Youpursued me,” I accuse, shoving a finger to my chest. “Yourefused to take no for an answer.Youmade me break every rule.Youasked me to trust you.Youdemanded I marry you.Youtold me women popping out of the woodwork were nothing more than red herrings. I gave you blind faith because I fucking loved you, and what do you do…? The moment a piece of the sky falls, you shut down on me.”
He gives me a curt nod. “You’re right.”
“If you can’t level with…” The rest of my accusation hangs in the air. “Wait, what?”
His stare feels like a weighted blanket as he closes the distance and lowers beside me. “I said, you’re right. You agreed to marry me on the promise that there’d be no more secrets, and that includes decorative truth. I shouldn’t have walked out on you.”
“I’m glad you understand?—”
“However,” he cuts in, “that doesn’t excuse putting yourself in the line of fireagain.”
My heart sinks. While my gun-toting entourage is safer than any armored car, he’s right. Going behind his back while expecting transparency is as contradictory as demanding fidelity while riding the neighbor. “I wasn’t being reckless. There are no less than eight of your men down there acting as a human shield. Plus, I’m pretty sure Taz climbs buildings and swats planes in his spare time.”
He’s not amused. “Are you seriously making jokes right now? Becca, do you know what I did when I heard what happened to you?”
I shake my head. The wild, heated look in his eyes has stolen my voice.
“I hit my fucking knees.” He jabs his finger toward his knee like it wronged him. “Right there in the goddamn parkinglot. I dropped to my knees and prayed to a God I don’t even believe in. I offered him everything—my life, my soul, my last breath—if he’d spare you.”
“Gianni…”
“Because if you died, I had no need for any of them.” Tears burn my eyes at the unexpected, volatile emotion in his voice. “If there’s an afterlife, I know we wouldn’t end up in the same place. But I’m a selfish bastard, Becca. I’d find a way to either bribe my way into Heaven or drag you down to Hell.”
I cup his face, thick stubble scratching my palms. “Then why are you shutting me out?” I watch his eyes for a doorway I can force open. But all I see is a faraway stare that seems somewhere else.With someone else.I lower my hands, my spine straightening. “Unless it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think I do. Sera told me you lost your mother in a car accident when you were young. Is that it? Did my accident dredge up bad memories from your mother’s?”
His chilled expression never cracks. “Nice try, but I’m not your patient anymore. The federal mandate giving you access to my head has expired.”
“No, you’re not my patient. You’re my husband, which gives me permanent and irrevocable access to everything about you, Marchesi, including your fucked-up head.”
“Would you say that goes both ways, wife?”
His leading tone settles like a rock in my stomach. “Of course.”
“Interesting. Then why don’t you start by explaining this.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper that he tosses on the table in front of us.
I recognize the hastily scribbled warning immediately.
Fuck.
Chapter Seventeen
BECCA
Bobby’s note sits in the middle of the table like a thrown grenade.
“Where did you get that?” I ask, trying for an unbothered tone that overshoots its mark.
Gianni gives me a flat stare. “Stuffed in the pocket of your jeans. You know, the ones the hospital had to cut off you due to them being covered in blood and gasoline?”
“You had no right to go behind my back.”
