“No.” His jaw tensed, and he released me. “I’m sorry.I didn’t mean to do it.”
I realized then—those were the words I must’ve said while asleep. He was blaming me for it.Damn him!I kicked the covers off, almost kicking him in the balls in the process. He had fast reflexes, though, and moved out of the way.
While he shoved his sweats on, I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. It was best to put some distance between us.
The mirror angered me even more. All of the marks he had made on my skin, not only out of love, but some show of ownership.Those damn roses!
After turning the water to hot, I hissed as I submerged myself in the tub, a reminder of all we had done the night before.
Relaxing some, a sane voice in my head commanded me to think about the situation from a calm place. What if the roles were reversed? What if he would’ve said something similar in his sleep?
I had been apologizing—and that alone wouldn’t have triggered him. It was that in conjunction to the roses that had set him off. Then again, that implied that he thought I was apologizing for doing something wrong, hence the roses from someone else.
“Ass!” I screamed at the door. The sponge hit it with a splat.
A hard knock came in return and startled me. Water splashed over the sides of the tub.
“I was probably apologizing for something I haven’t even done yet! Just to get a head start onyou!” Then I called him mercurial—as if it were the worst insult known to man.
He growled. I returned the noise.
I was so furious over even the implication that I had somehow deceived him, my face felt fire-hot. Deciding that I was going to take the high road, since I had done nothing wrong, I shifted my thoughts to the pleasantness of the dream. The bath almost gave me the same sensation of being plumped by something warm and natural.
Grapes came to mind, and I spent the rest of my bath in battle with myself over green or purple. Which should I buy?
Why not both?
“True,” I muttered to the foggy reflection in the mirror.
As I dressed and readied for the day, I contemplated the fact that he was making me truly insane.
Two burn marks confirmed this suspicion. As I was attempting tonotthink of him and his asinine accusations, I had been in a daze and forgot that I was curling my hair. Something a woman should never do when she values the hair she has.
All in all, though, the reflection staring back at me looked bright and alive—the leopard scarf gave me a touch of wild.Damn, I thought, touching my cheek, running a finger over my lips. Making love with him always suffused me with afterglow. Now it came along with narrowed eyes, pursed lips, and an uplifted chin. “Hmph!”
He threw his phone to the dresser as I walked out. Ignoring his gaze, I snatched my purse and my (his) leather jacket, meeting Guido and Nino in the kitchen.
“I need to go to the store,” I said, rummaging around the pantry, finding that I needed flour. “How does lasagna sound for tonight?”
Both men nodded in agreement. “I have been wanting that again,” Nino said, smacking his lips.
Guido handed me a cup of coffee and I thanked him. Brando came in, already showered and looking as good as he smelled.
He had a meeting with Rocco today, and on those days, I preferred not to be around when business was conducted—that included not only the places they owned, butfamigliabusiness as well.
I had to take a stronger hold on my cup when Brando told Guido to pack his things. He was going back to Italy or New York. Wherever the family decided he needed to go.
Romeo and Guido being as close as they were, he had taken Juliette’s miscarriage hard. We all did. But Guido was on the fence about how the situation should’ve been handled. He wanted revenge for the loss, at whatever the cost.
Though sometimes I got the feeling he struggled with his loyalty to Romeo and the reality of being in a small town. The rules were different, and he knew it.
Therefore, there had been some strain between him and Brando. Not enough to warrant this, though, and I almost spoke up, but I shut my mouth when that eerie calm of Brando’s rage seemed to slip over me.
Guido stood taller, taking the few steps to meet Brando. He was an inch or two shorter. Somehow, it didn’t matter, not when one man met the others’ eye with the same intent—to hash this out.
Guido was suspicious as to the reasons why this was suddenly happening. If a man were going to be sent someplace else, he would’ve known about it ahead of time.
“I refuse to leave, cousin,” he addressed Brando in Italian. “Not when it is just Nino. You have a meeting today. Scarlett is to go to the store. I will stay until a replacement can be found.”
