“When I cook at home you eat your entire plate with not a crumb to spare,” he says not in a teasing manner but rather affectionately. Which is true. Rico’s cooking is immaculate. And when food is that delicious I find it difficult to share. “Besides, there were too many options.“
“It was overwhelming.”
“Si.”
“Then next time I’ll choose for you.” Not knowing if I overstepped or would be regressing any type of progress he’s made I ask timidly, “If that’s okay with you.”
His eyes shine with appreciation. “I would like that.”
Over the candlelight, a warm glow casting over his face and his large hand in mine I still can’t quite grasp how this man notorious in nature to others is soft only for me.
“You’re staring,” he comments.
I nod my head unashamed. “You’re more beautiful than you’ll ever know, Rico.”
I didn’t think it was possible before but the man known for his nonchalance blushes. And it’s beautiful. How the splashes of red fair against his tanned complexion.
Casting his head down he turns his attention to my wedding ring. His thumb brushes over it, marveling at the sight. “You made me the happiest man alive when you agreed to marry me,” he confesses in a hushed tone.
“Did you really think I would say no?”
“I thought you would feel obligated or forced,” he admits quietly.
“Forced?” I repeat incredulously. “Rico, believe me, if I wouldn’t have wanted to marry you I would’ve said no. I ran away from home because I didn’t want to marry a man.” I remind him.
When his eyes meet mine they flay me open with their naked vulnerability. His lip tugs downward. “And you never were able to experience the life you risked running away from. I took that from you.”
“I could’ve easily killed you in your sleep numerous times,” I point out and he cracks a barely there smile. “But I never could. And while yes, you did take me, I did get to experience what I wanted.”
“And that is?”
“Falling in love with a man of my choosing. Marrying for love and not for duty. To not live a life of misery,” I tell him solemnly. My eyes implore for him to hear every word and believe me.
He swallows roughly and brings my hand up to his lips. His lips place a tender kiss to each of my knuckles before finally kissing my open palm. My heart soars as flutters swarm about in my stomach.
“I promise you a happy life, Imogen Maroni. If you are to ever feel misery because of me then I want you to kill me.”
A slow booming clap of hands can be heard from across the room. It’s followed by an ominous thud of footsteps.
Rico’s face immediately hardens. His eyes become one of the vast and unfathomable waters of the ocean. Unreadable. Untouchable.
This is the Made Man the world knows. The one the world fears.
Swiftly, he comes to a stand and ushers me to my feet. He pushes me behind him but keeps his hand firmly on my waist.
The slow clap comes to a stop. The quiet becomes so loud it’s almost deafening. Tension is as high as it is thick. And there’s a chill in the air. One that races down your spine and forebodes terrible things to come.
“And so the Grim Reaper’s heart grew three sizes.” The taunt comes from a thick Russian accent that’s deep and raspy. “Collecting hearts instead of souls now? Want mine, too?”
Rico cocks his head unnervingly to the side. “I’ll take your heart,” he says robotically. “And I’ll feed it to the dogs.”
The Russian gives a hearty laugh. I peer over Rico’s shoulder and we make eye contact.
A gasp stays lodged in my throat. My spine stiffens. The blood in my veins turns to ice as dread sits heavy at the pit of my stomach.
Eyes as black as night stare into mine. The sinister pools seize the air from my lungs. He flashes his pearly white canines in a cruel smile. Ink covers his thick neck and travels down his black button down shirt. He stands proudly and at ease.
But it’s his hand, or rather what’s on his hand that strikes me with fear.
