Page 128 of Rosetti Family New York
And it feels like my betrayal is closing in on me, circling me, squeezing the air from my lungs. Like everything I've done is coming back to haunt me. Like the dreams that wake me in the night, Dom's voice, his fury, the bed cold and empty when morning comes. My veneer of safety, the words Dom shouted as he thrust into me that first time we had sex, stop feeling quite so safe.
Perhaps Baba is right about that too: that Domenico is using me.
"Do you think he loves you, Besiana?"
I shiver and check the time. Twenty minutes. What’s taking so long. What is Dom doing in there?
I close my eyes and see his face last night, the fury in his eyes and the unbreakable strength in his grip around my throat.
“If you aren’t loyal to me and my family, you don’t get to live. Do you understand?”
And after all the messes I made, I cried like a fool in his arms and spilled out all the secrets about Mami and Dritan that I’d never meant to tell.
"What kind of man does that to his own family?" He sounded so human, so warm when he asked.
"The kind you don't say no to." My voice was raw. Desperate.
Dom held me tighter. I felt like maybe I’d said yes to the right thing for once in my life.
Now I don't know what to think. He’s been so cold this morning, so distant. I can still feel the warmth of his arms around me last night, but maybe Dom is right—maybe none of it matters unless I am loyal to him and his family. Loyalty I’ve already shattered before it had a chance to build.
Maybe I’m just a pawn in his game. Maybe he doesn’t care what I told him. Maybe he only pretended to so he could use my confession to get back at Baba. Maybe he’s moving all the pieces into place while I sit here, waiting to see what he does next.
The air in the car is too hot. I shrug out of the coat and stare at the building until my vision blurs.
When Dom finally comes back, he looks different. Looser. Less restrained. There’s a new softness to his mouth. I can’t tell if it’s real or if I’m just desperate enough to imagine it. He climbs into the car, says nothing, then starts the engine.
He doesn’t ask why I wouldn’t come in. He doesn’t ask anything. Doesn’t say that Clara mentioned me, or that she told me where the warehouse was.
I pretend the silence means he doesn’t know.
25
Domenico
She’s a prize wrapped in silk, delivered to me, unwanted. I never believed in this kind of arrangement. Marriage to forge peace. Wife as collateral. A year ago, I would have said it was beneath the Rosetti family. Beneath me. But here we are, her body tangled in the sheets, tangled in my life.
Besiana Rosetti. My wife. Pale skin against white silk. Dark hair loose and wild. She doesn’t fit in this family.
I should leave her. I should give her space, let her get over the controlling bastard who calls himself her father. I should be the bigger man and walk away, avoid becoming a controlling bastard who calls himself husband.
But every time I try, I end up here again, sitting on the sofa, watching her sleep. I end up needing her.
She makes a soft sound in her sleep, an unconscious whisper. I can’t hear it, but I know what it is. My name. It’s always my name. I watch her lips part, watch the way her fingers twist in the sheet. She turns, smooth as a cat, and curls away from me. She’s on her side, and the curve of her ass is pointing at me, round and inviting.
She lets out another soft sound, and it cuts through me. Fuck it. I unbuckle my pants and kneel beside the bed. I pull her roughly to the edge of the bed, and she lets me. Her ass is waiting for me, pale and round, and I thrust into her with one quick move.
She gasps, and it’s my name again, my name on her lips, soft and breathless. I thrust again, and her body moves with me.
“Dom,” she says, louder now, the sleep gone from her voice. Her hands reach back for me. “Dom.”
It should feel wrong to have her like this, to want her like this. It should feel wrong to be inside her while I keep my distance.
It feels fucking incredible.
Her voice is louder, begging now. “More,” she says, her hands twisting in the sheet. “Give me more.”
I give her more. I give her everything I have, but I can’t give her what she really wants. I can’t give her me. Not all of me.
