“The streets know me as the Beast. As far as the mob is concerned, I’m the most lethal enforcer who’s ever walked these streets. As far as the Family knows, I’ve slaughtered women, children, and entire families. But I would never, never fucking do that. So I pretend. I fake crime scenes. And then I use the cash the mob gives me to make sure their targets get far, far away from the mob, so far they can never be touched.” He nods towards the desk. “Those are the survivors.”
“People who would be dead if it wasn’t for you,” I whisper.
“Hmm,” he grunts.
“People who are living second lives because of you.”
Another grunt.
“Why wouldn’t you want to tell me this?”
He reaches up, cradles my cheek. “Everything would be much easier if you hated me.”
“You don’t want me to hate you,” I tell him. “Maybe things would be easier… but you don’t want that. I know you don’t.”
He wraps his arms around me. He holds me almost tenderly, like I’m made of glass. One wrong move and he could break me.
“You’re going to ruin me,” he whispers.
I’m one step ahead. I’m pretty sure he’s already ruined me.
“You should be proud,” I say, cupping his scarred cheek. “You took a bad situation and did something good with it. That’s… inspirational.”
He laughs gruffly.
“I mean it, Damian. So you only hurt bad people?”
“I’ve killed people, Celine,” he says darkly, as if desperate for me to hate him. “Just because I’ve done some good deeds, it doesn’t mean there isn’t blood on my hands.”
“People like Rico? People who hurt others?”
He takes a step back. It’s like he’s afraid of being too close because he’ll kiss me or take it a step further and pick up where we left off earlier.
“Forget you ever saw this,” he snaps, back to being a grump. “And learn whatpersonal spacemeans, Celine.”
He steps into the hall, hovers at the doorway, glaring at me, waiting for me to follow. His shirtless form is tight from head to toe as he watches me expectantly.
I walk into the hallway, and he shuts the door behind me. “I’m going to lock this,” he growls.
“Why–what else is in there?”
“Nothing,” he snaps. “But those things are private.”
“Why?” I say.
His entire body trembles, every muscle seeming to contract. I remind myself that this isn’t a moment of excitement or desire. Okay, maybe I always experience those sensations when he is around.
“Why what?” he grunts.
“What does that even mean, Damian?Why what…Why do you hide the good side of yourself?”
“In my world, it’s easier to be a devil than an angel. If the Family knew what I was doing, they wouldn’t take kindly to me disrupting their fucked-up business.”
“Oh.” What am I doing? “I thought you were going to say there were photos of your exes in there.”
He grabs my hips so fast and so hard I don’t have a chance to push him away – not that I would even if I did act fast enough. He presses his hands down firmly, warm flutters surging across my body.
“I’ve never been much of a dater,” he growls. “Simpler that way. Safer.”
