Lev’s eyes turned to mine. “Your grandfather can love. Your father can love. You can love.”
“Lies,” I said, my hands curling into fists at my sides. The only reason he was defending Iggy was because Lev felt he loved my mamma. Any fool could see it. He was willing to stitch my head because he thought she would be disappointed in him if he didn’t. “What we feel has no name. It goes beyond love.”
“Touché.” He sighed, then waved a hand. “However, the point still stands. Men who are not programmed to love can still find a way to feel it. It is your people who claim they are not above love; therefore, the rules do not exist when it comes down to it.”
“The fucker wants my wife,” I said, changing the direction of this conversation. I wasn’t about to get into a philosophical debate about villains and love with a Russian assassin.
“He does. However, he wants her to want him first.”
“He wants her to fall in love with him, that’s what you’re telling me.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Tell me.” I rolled my shoulders. “If she doesn’t.”
“He walks away.” He turned back to the mare, speaking to her in Russian, before he turned to me some. She nudged his hand. “This is all I know at the moment.”
I didn’t fucking believe him. Lev was not as honest as my people. I had a feeling he had spoken to Iggy, and this conversation was what came of it, except he was leaving a few details out. Such as, how he was going to get my wife to—I couldn’t even fucking think it, or I was going to lose fucking control.
My mind was out to prosecute me, because it wouldn’t stop with the poking fucking questions.
Did he consider taking her on dates and bringing her fucking chocolate? She couldn’t have chocolate. It gave her headaches. That was why she stuck with fresh fruit most of the time.
A strike of silver lit up the barn with a shock of lightning, followed by thunder rolling in the distance. My eyes had turned in that direction for a moment, and when I looked back to the spot where Lev had been, he was gone.
Marciano appeared in the doorway. I could smell the scent of rain on him, though it hadn’t started yet. He stepped inside and narrowed his eyes at my head. “What the fuck happened?”
I waved him off, about to head for the villa.
“You got company, brother,” he said when I reached him.
“More fucking company,” I grumbled, about to walk off.
“It’s a lady. Said she’s afriendof yours. She has a horse for sale.” When Marciano said friend, he’d put emphasis on the word, meaning, she was more than a friend at one time. A lover.
This “friend” was a horse breeder. She knew where I lived because we had dealings with horses before. No other women came to this property. I usually went to theirs. And when I had relations with her, it was always at her place.
I was being haunted. Truly and thoroughly haunted—by my past and my present. I would have ordered Marciano to send thelady away, but it wasn’t his responsibility to deal with my past. I was known to go after women who enjoyed stealing and ripping clothes, burning them after to prove a point. These women, even though I made no promises, still clung to the idea that I could be changed.
I couldn’t be changed.
Not until the one who held the fucking key came along.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you but never found the time. What’s with Flavio calling Sistineone of the Cappello women?” Marciano started, but someone made a noise from the left side of the stable.
The mare at the end stall was shaking her head, almost like if she was trying to get my attention. That mare didn’t like strong perfumes, and this scent was wafting in the air like it had been doused on the fodder, and the mare was about to have to consume it.
Marciano took his position next to me, setting his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes as a naked woman emerged from the shadows. Another one was right behind her, tiptoeing around, pulling a face and going, “ewww.”
“Are you keeping women in barrels?” Marciano’s eyes widened before they went back to their natural state.
“Apples. All I have are fucking apples.”
“They are the forbidden fruit.” My brother was being fucking serious.
My heart almost beat out of my fucking chest when I realized who the first woman was.
My wife’s conniving sister.
