It wasn’t just a simple band. Three round diamonds were set in a wide band of white gold with more diamond scroll work to separate them. So unique. The same as the man who’d slipped it on my finger.
An unbreakable eternity band to seal unbreakable promises.
I’d wondered where his was, or if I’d given him one, before our second wedding. When he’d pulled it out during our second ceremony, I’d grinned. The letters “MR” was imbedded in black in the signet-style ring. He’d worn one just like it on his little finger at Club D.
“Midnight Rose,” I whispered, a little late catching up.
“Mr.,” he said. “As subtle as you were when you wanted my attention in the beginning, you were just as subtle when you claimed me with this ring.”
We looked at each other. He grinned, and so did I.
I lifted my left hand and wiggled my fingers. “As subtle as a tattoo,” I joked. There was nothing vague about the ring he’d slipped onto my finger. It was apparent that I was taken if anyone questioned my relationship status.
His grin widened and then disappeared, and he touched my chin. “My Rosalia,” he said, his accent heavier. “Even at the risk of you calling me out on this.” He fixed a strand of my hair that had fallen into my face, and I shivered from the brief contact.
“I chased you like an animal chases its one true mate in the beginning. You put me through hell, like you did with that fucking dress the Little Monster encouraged you to wear. Even after I caught you, you somehow still slipped out of my iron grip.
“I’ve put my fists through the wall, bloodied my knuckles and my palms for you. I’ve sworn that I’d go insane if you didn’t walk away, then if you didn’t take your place by my side.
“I’ve sworn that I’d kill the man who made it impossible for me to show the world who you are to me. I’ve been so thankful for a secret that went deeper than blood, because we owned the nights like there was no tomorrow.
“I’ve loved more than I ever thought I could. I’ve hated more than I ever thought I could. I’ve pushed and you’ve pulled. I’ve pulled and you’ve pushed. My patience. My resistance. My temper. It’s all been tested beyond measure.”
He stopped there for a second, and a weighty breath left my mouth that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I was hanging onto his every word like each one was a healing medicine, and together, they’d give me the cure to this curse of a life.
“My Rosalia,” he said. “Even with all the tests, I’ve never thought about leaving your side or fading into the background of your life. I’ve loved every fucking second of this life with you. Life with you islife.” He emphasized the “is,” and then he leaned in and kissed my lips.
It took me a few seconds before I could open my eyes after the kiss was over. I sucked in a breath when he opened the truck door and fresh air swept in. It was laden with moisture, close to the breaking point. Lightning streaked hot white across the darkened sky a second later, and right after, thunder rolled.
We made it into the house right before the downpour. Aniello lit the candles like he usually did, and we were quiet as we both readied for bed. Instead of wearing my pajamas, I wore one of his shirts.
The first one he’d made me change. It was white, and he gave me a dark one instead. It fit me like a dress and smelled like him. I inhaled the collar, breathing in, almost getting high off the citrusy scent.
“I’m right here, Rosalia.” He opened his arms to me. “I smell even better.”
The source was better, much,much, better, and by the time he was through with me, his scent lingered on my skin. He had used my body beyond recovery, and when I fell asleep, it came as hard as he’d loved me.
Sometime during the storm, I had a dream that rain was sliding down my face. Cool droplets that made me feel ice cold.
When I opened my eyes, I realized it wasn’t a dream at all.
Someone stood over me. The flames from the fireplace lit him from behind, like he’d just stepped out of hell. I went to scream, to call out for Aniello, but it was no use.
A hand came over my mouth and silenced me.
32
Aniello
Boy was always too fucking sloppy for his own good. He left a messy trail behind him wherever he went, and then expected other people to clean up after him.
This time, he’d made it personal.
Not only was he standing over my wife, dripping water on her while she slept, but he’d put his hand over her mouth when she went to scream.
He’d made plenty of mistakes, some that brought him close to death, but he’d never stood this close to it.
I stood right behind him.
