Pressing my phone between my chin and shoulder I gently untangle myself from Imogen’s limbs. I already miss the warmth of her as I sit on the side of the bed. It’s as if she’s become a second skin and I feel bare without her.
“Are you being dramatic or is this serious?”
“Serious enough that I’m outside your private elevator banging on it like a scorned lover.” I hear him pounding against the elevator doors through the phone.
I sigh heavily. If I let him up he’ll know of Imogen and I. And while he’s always had his suspicions now he’ll know it’s true. He’ll tell Constantine and Carina I’m sure. He’s kept my secret about Sebastian. He won’t about this.
We’ll be over before we’ve truly begun. I gaze back at her on the bed. Her lips swollen. The markings of my rope on her skin.
She’s where she belongs. But my Famiglia will never accept her. I’ll be forced to choose.
“Rico,” Pietro’s sharp voice cuts through my thoughts. “It’s concerning Sebastian. Let me in.”
If it’s concerning Sebastian then it concerns her. The consequences of him finding out be damned. Sebastian can not. . .will not come anywhere near her. “I’ll input the override to let you in.”
Hanging up without a goodbye I go to my security app. I override the security protocol and open the elevator, inviting him to my home.
I toss my phone on the nightstand and scrub my hand roughly down my face. Stubble pricks at my palms. The sensation physically makes me recoil. I’ll have to shave first thing in the morning.
The bed slightly groans as I ease myself off. With light feet I pad across the room and enter my walk in closet. Half of the clothes in here now belong to her.
At first it fucked with my head. For so long this had been only mine. My own color coded system. Even separating the clothes by arm length. All part of my routine to wake up and start the day right.
Now her clothes are sprinkled within. Splashes of vibrant color and different textures. It all seems fitting now. Which is insane. Or perhaps I really have lost my mind.
I throw on a crewneck pullover and a pair of sweatpants.
When I leave the walk in I find Imogen sitting up in the middle of our bed with strands of her hair escaped from the braid, a tired expression on her face and the sheet barely covering her breasts.
“Is everything okay?” Concern colors her tone.
Wanting to ease her worry I sit back down on the bed and tuck the loose strands behind her ear. “Everything is fine.”
“Then why are you leaving?” A vulnerability cracks in her voice.
“Famiglia business,” I respond vaguely.
She seems almost hesitant to ask. “Does it involve me?”
“Si.”
“Should I be worried?”
I palm her face in my hand. She leans into my touch. I kiss the bridge of her nose, then her cheek, her forehead and finally her lips. “I promised no harm would come to you. There’s no need for you to be worried.”
Doubt scrawls upon her face. I loathe to see it. “Our families are at war, Rico.”
“Yes. And?”
“And your Famiglia won’t allow you to choose me. Not with Seamus’ blood running in my veins. And my family will never allow me to choose you. The man who killed their son. The man who took their daughter.”
“What happened to fate deciding for us?” I challenge, upset with her base found logic and fact. “What happened to you telling me you chose me despite the consequences? Did you or did you not gift me your soul? Has the reality of our relationship have you running scared?”
“No,” she says firmly. “Despite all logic and reason, against my better judgement I choose you. I choose you, Rico. It’s just. . .” Her eyes then fall as she nervously toys with the sheet against her breasts.
“What is it?”
“I know what loyalty means to you,” she swallows. When her eyes chance a glance at me they’re almost sorrowful. “And I know even if you decide to choose me you’ve pledged your loyalty to the Famiglia. To Constantine.” She emphasizes his name particularly.
