Page 90 of He Should Be Mine
Carlo’s voice goes quiet. “You ready to kill him, Dario?”
The room stills.
I hold his gaze. “Yes.”
Because the truth is, I can’t let Riccardo live. Not after what he’s done. Not with what I know he’ll do if he survives. Not with Molly still breathing the same air as him.
This ends only one way.
Carlo lifts an eyebrow. “What’s changed, Dario? You used to be content with being a soldato.”
What changed? An image flashes of Molly’s bright eyes. His dazzling smile.
“Everything,” I growl. “Everything has changed.”
And for the first time tonight, I am speaking nothing but the truth.
Chapter twenty-five
Dario
Molly is standing so close to me it is torture. We are preparing lunch and I’m teaching him how to make gnocchi. We are standing side by side, in front of the hob.
His body is a mere one inch from mine. He smells of vanilla and strawberries today. I like it. It is another scent that suits him.
He is wearing a powder-blue skintight romper. The material looks incredibly soft. The way it stretches over his body leaves nothing to the imagination. The lower half that is shaped like shorts, barely covers his ass. And the way the rest of it accents his waist, stomach and chest, should be illegal. The outline of his nipple and belly button piercings is clear. I can almost trace his abs. I’m very confident that he is not wearing any underwear.
His blond hair is up in two messy bunches. A few strands have fallen free and are curling gently. The tips are a pale blue.
With his hair up, I can see all of his pretty face. His freckles. The long slender curve of his neck.
It is too much to bear. My traitorous mind keeps replaying the soft whimper he made when I kissed him. The way he melted under my touch, turning all soft and pliant and needy.
He acts the brat, but it’s clear that in the bedroom he knows who is boss. The knowledge of that is like fire in my veins. It is taking every inch of self-control I possess not to throw him over the breakfast bar and rip that romper off of him.
I want to learn what he tastes like all over. Every part of him. I need to discover what other noises I can pull from him. I want to sink inside his tight heat and fuck him so deep he will never forget he is mine.
I breathe in deeply through my nose. Control. Patience. All the best things in life are worth waiting for. Soon Molly will be mine, and all this pain and frustration will be nothing more than a distant memory.
Right now, we are cooking lunch together. I need to concentrate on that. I need to stop thinking about that kiss.
We haven’t talked about it. Not one word. We are both acting as if it never happened. It is a good coping mechanism, probably the only way to remain sane, and I like how we have both silently agreed on it. It shows we are in accord, and proves how suited to each other we are. We are meant to be together. We only have to wait.
The sudden sound of footsteps in the hallway has me reaching for my gun, but then my mind kicks in. It has to be Riccardo. I probably didn’t hear the door beep because the extractor fan is on. And as much as I do want to shoot the bastard, today is not the day.
Molly flashes me a quick look. He is surprised too. Riccardo has never come this early before.
I think about stepping away from Molly because we are standing awfully close to one another. But then I dismiss the idea. The hurried movement would draw attention and scream guilt.
Riccardo strides into the living area. He doesn’t even look at us. He heads straight for the faux bar and pours himself a stiff drink. Then he flops on the sofa with it. Sitting in my place.
Molly leaves my side to saunter over to Riccardo. “Bad day?”
His tone is all deep concern and fawning. But he didn’t call Riccardo daddy. I need to hold onto that.
“The worst,” says Riccardo, and he lets his head drop back onto the sofa cushions.
“Poor Rick,” purrs Molly.
