“What will it be, Ava. Just say the words. Killing you is fucking killing me.”
I reached out a hand like I was falling. “Wait,” I breathed. Then I cleared my throat and dropped it. “Let me go, Nazzareno. Let me go so this will all go away.”
He leaned down and snatched a shard of sparkling glass from the floor. His blood ran down it. He took my hand and carefully placed the cold piece in it, then he held it to his chest. “Let you go?” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “It would be easier to carve my heart out for you to take with you.”
A sharp bite came against my skin, but I didn’t drop the glass. I bled on it, our lives combining on the edge of a sword.
In that moment, the truth I’d been trying to avoid hit me like the chair had hit the glass.
We had few choices in this love, and all of them led to losing him.
Losing us.
They say the best things in life are free. They must have meant an on-the-house gelato on a hot day or a cup of coffee in the winter.
Because love was not free.
There was always a price to pay.
I wasn’t sure if I had enough emotional stock in myself. I wasn’t fucking equipped for this. I didn’t know what to do.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
He didn’t turn his eyes toward the door.
Neither did I.
After a few erratic breaths, he said, “You cannot make the decision. I will do it for you.”
He walked away from me, and I dropped the glass, rushing behind him.
Beni was on the other side, along with Aristide, and a man I didn’t recognize. He was a clergy of some kind because he held a Bible to his breast. He blinked at us from behind thick eyeglasses, his eyes still sleepy. Probably wondering if he was dreaming as he took us in.
We were both stained with blood.
A chill stole over me. I looked at Beni. “What’s going on?” I whispered.
His eyes were twitchy as he looked between Nazzareno and me. He wasn’t fucking with that lion tonight. Blood was in the air, and he was salivating for the hunt.
Aristide touched the man on the back, and it seemed like we all moved further into the suite. Aristide spoke to the man in a hushed tone, in Italian, and he only nodded at whatever was being said.
I looked at Nazzareno. “What’s going on? I deserve to know!”
He smiled at me as he took my bloodied hand and set it against his own. “We are getting married.”
THIRTY-SIX
AVA
I liftedmy free hand in surrender and tried to take a step back. “Let’s talk about this, Nazzareno,” I said, realizing how truly twisted in the head and heart he was in that moment.
I’d pushed him to a limit, and instead of just stepping over it, he was going to kill it first.
Seemed to be a theme tonight.
I’d been in the same headspace before, but his solution to all our issues sobered me. If he married me, not only would it cause more issues with Renato—I thought—but with the arrangement with the Burattis.
“I have decided,” he said, his tone final. “This is it.”
