Page 121 of The Crowned Garza
Setting the knife down, I drop my head and breathe out an irate sigh. “I’m so tired of all the lies.”
“I didn’t lie to you.” His voice is a little softer now. “To be honest, up until two minutes ago, I thought you knew. Hell, Tillie, I named the damn restaurant after you. Your boss’s surname is Luciani. How did you not know?”
Wait, Dulce’s a Luciani? Did she mention that at some point and I missed it? She’s only ever introduced herself as “Dulce” and her signature is an unreadable scrawl. If I’d known her surname was Luciani, of course I would’ve figured it out.
“Maybe… But you could’ve just told me...”
God, my head hurts.
Saint rounds the station to me and dusts his knuckles against my cheek. And my body, my traitorous body, shivers at his touch. “Please stop shutting me out,regalità. Talk to me.”
“Why should I? We’re not an ‘us,’ remember?”
“I wasasking. You took it wrong, on purpose, because you were already angry, and you wanted to keep being angry.” His voice is so deceptively gentle. “But was I wrong to ask? You’re the one who’s in a full-blown relationship with someone else.”
“You’re right.” I turn to face him full-on, tipping my chin up. “Iamin a relationship. A veryhealthyrelationship. So this”—I motion between us—“whatever the hellthiseven is, it’s time to end it. I can’t move on if you keep showing up and messing with my life.”
His eyes harden. “Cute.”
“I’m serious, Saint. I’m done. We’re done.”
With a guttural sound, he grabs a fistful of my uniform jacket, yanks me to him, then grips the waistband of my pants and drags it down to where the ink above my pelvic bone is visible. “What does this say?”
When I don’t answer, he demands, “What does this fucking say?”
“I don’t care what it says.” I look him in the eyes. It hurts. Like looking into the sun. “I can’t keep doing this with you, Saint.”
Because it’s killing me.
“There’s no world—no heaven, no hell, no dimension,no worldin which you and I will be over,piccola regina,” hewhispers harshly. “You are mine. Always. In this lifetime and every other lifetime, you will always bemine.”
“We can’t—”
He kisses me.
He kisses me so deeply, so fiercely, and it’s so,sounfair. Because heknows. He knows it takes nothing more than this for me to bend to him. He’s my kryptonite. The love that isn’t good for me. The addiction I need to break.
Just like that, my arms are around his neck and I’m kissing him back with equal fervor.
My will is embarrassingly threadbare.
When he flips me back against the stainless-steel counter, I’m forced to break. “Not here, Saint. We can’t—”
He has me up in his arms before I can finish. Carries me out of the kitchen, down the short hall, and straight to Dulce’s office.
“What are you doing?” I ask when he stops outside the office door and manages to open it without dropping me. “This is my boss’s office. We can’t—”
“No, it’syouroffice.”
Before I can protest further, his mouth is on mine again. He deposits me on the large desk, devouring my mouth while his hands work at unbuttoning my jacket. In seconds, it’s off along with my tank top.
“Saint...” The word is nearly a cry when he dips his head to drag his lips and teeth over the swells of my breasts as he unhooks my bra.
“Need my mouth on them?” he asks after he slides my bra off.
“You know I do…”
He rolls my taut, sensitive nipples between his fingers. “Ask me, then.”
