Page 27 of Flawed

The reflection before me is an apparition of the life I could have. It paints a picture of a man I could love, who I think could love me back. And his confessions earlier this evening only make me believe he'd fully embrace our baby and love and protect it.

But there is no safeguard from the Abruzzos and their evil.

So I've never been further from having the life I always wanted.

5

Luca

Chanel's bodyquivers against my frame. Her tears fall down her cheeks, and I wonder how a woman as radiant as she could feel so badly by looking in the mirror.

I wipe them away and circle my arms tighter around her. I wanted her to tell me what she sees, but she's too upset. I feel horrible for causing it, so I declare, "Want me to tell you what I see?"

She sniffles and nods, blinking hard to stop the onslaught of waterworks.

I kiss her cheek and once again pin my focus on her in the mirror. I confess, "You're the farthest thing from boring I've ever come across. Look hard, stellina. Every inch, every curve, every feature is perfection. But none of that even matters." I put my hand over her heart, continuing, "There's something special about you in here. I see it. So you're not only sexy. You've got something magical about you. It shines bright, radiating from you like a star in the darkness. Plus, you might be one of the strongest women I've ever encountered."

She scrunches her face, blurting out with a shaky voice, "Strong? How is that?"

I take a moment to study her again. She really is a masterpiece. Her green eyes are what first took me in, but her silky-smooth olive skin, long red hair, and elegant legs all competed for my attention. Any man would have a hard time not looking twice at her, but what drew me in the most was her personality.

Even in the club, it beamed brightly. And the last few days, even though she hated me for reasons unknown, she had no problem standing up to me. It's rare I find a woman who speaks her mind around me or can stand up to me. Maybe it's because I'm surrounded by Abruzzo women who want to make me their husband or those forced to work at the whorehouses. Perhaps I intimidate women to the point they feel they can't be honest. Whatever it is, I guess it doesn't matter. All I know is that standing in front of me is a woman much younger than me who seems to have no qualms about speaking her mind and drawing a line in the sand where her boundaries are concerned.

Nothing has ever been more refreshing to me.

So I answer, "Yeah, you're not scared of me. You don't hold back or pretend to like or accept anything that doesn't sit right with you. You speak your mind and aren't trying to impress me. So that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

She sniffles and stares at me as if questioning my admission.

I softly chuckle, adding, "You even admitted to me your couch is lumpy and stinky."

Her lips curve. She bites the bottom one to keep from forming a full smile and puts her hand over her face, peeking through her fingers. She mutters, "It really is."

"See, I love your honesty," I confess, then remove her hand from her face and kiss it.

Silence fills the room, both of us lost in unspoken thoughts, staring at the other. Something nags me that her expression includes sadness, which I don't understand. I want to know more about it. I open my mouth to ask her what she's thinking, when a loud splash fills the air.

She jerks her head toward the kitchen, as do I. The water from the noodles is bubbling over. I race toward the stove, move the pot to a cold burner, and turn the heat down on the hot one. I take a towel, wipe up the water, then replace the pot. I tease, "You're distracting me from my masterpiece dinner, stellina."

She says nothing and props her ass on the counter next to me, staring at the skillet. Her stomach growls again.

I pick up a spoonful of tomato sauce, blow on it, then hold it in front of her lips. "Try this and tell me what you think."

She cautiously tastes it and closes her eyes. "Mmm. Way better than a jar."

"A jar," I scoff as my blood turns hot. She turns me on in ways I don't understand. No one's ever had this effect on me before. She's young and has a naive innocence, but I don't underestimate her. There's also something worldly about her. I can't put my finger on it, yet all my instincts are screaming there's nothing simple about her.

The night after we met, I told myself it's better to stay away from her. I'm in a world she doesn't belong in, surrounded by bad people who do unimaginable things. And I thrive in the position Angelo Marino placed me in when I first got to this country years ago. So what does that make me?

For years, I've stayed away from anything close to a relationship. It never bothered me. I had plenty of women to give me what I physically needed. There was never a reason to get close. No one kept my attention for more than sex. Yet I couldn't stop pursuing her if my life depended on it.

Over the last few days, I've had to question what these feelings mean. I can't escape them. And every time Jacopo or his higher-ups order me to meet them, tearing me away from her, I resent it.

Normally, I'd do my job willingly, getting an adrenaline rush from navigating the dark underworld and reporting it back to Angelo. Now, all I can think of is how I need to get out. I need to publicly take my place in the Marino family.

Angelo's always made it clear when I'm ready to take a new role, I can. I've already stayed with the Abruzzos longer than expected. I have more money than I'll ever need, and I would have the security to protect Chanel even when I'm not with her.

I'm smart enough to know that unless I leap, I'll never be able to build the type of life my stellina deserves. She would never be safe, and I'll be damned if I take her anywhere near the Abruzzos' vile reality.

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