“You. Are. Not. Weak,” he growls, cradling my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “You suffered great losses, and you’re hurt. But that does not make you weak.”
I place my hand on his chest, using the beat of his racing heart to ground me. “You may not think that, because you’re also going through the same thing. You’ve felt it. A loss so great it rips you into pieces. But you know the other bosses see it differently. They view even the slightest indication of sorrow as evidence that we’re wounded prey that they can slaughter at the right time. Which is why no one can see how much we’re hurting. No one can know the truth.”
Declan’s thumb draws idle circles on my cheek as he looks at me, confused. “I’m not disagreeing with you there, but what I don’t understand is why you would deny yourself happiness, the chance to feel something beyond pain and grief.”
“Because love is dangerous. It’s lethal. Not only do the people we care about become an even bigger target to our enemies, but once they’re taken from us…We also feel it all. I deny myself because the next loss I experience might kill me. The grief of losing my father has suffocated me, and I am terrified of what may happen if another person I love is ripped away from me. There’s a lot I can handle in this world. Experiencing physical pain and torture has never bothered me. But the mental anguish of being alone? I can’t handle it.” I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to look him in the eyes as I whisper, “Everyone I love dies. Loving me may as well be a curse.”
“Zahra…” Declan’s eyes soften as the emotions on his face shift between confusion to…pity.
Fuck, I hate that. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me?—”
He reels back. “What are you talking about?”
“I see pity on your face. You’re probably thinking,‘Poor little Zahra. A mafia boss who can’t even handle a few deaths.’” My voice cracks, eyes starting to sting as my stomach turns. Dammit, what the hell is wrong with me? I will not cry.I will not cry.
His grip on my face tightens slightly, not enough to cause me any pain, but it does force me to look at him. Or at least it would if I didn’t squeeze my eyes shut. “Look at me, love.”
I shake my head.
“Please. Zahra. Don’t make me beg.” His voice is rough. Desperate. His thumb moves from tracing my cheek to my jawline.
After a few centering deep breaths, I give in, losing myself in the blueish-green of his irises.
“There you are.” The warmth in his smile settles my racing heartbeat ever so slightly. “You’re wrong, Zahra. I don’t pity you. Iunderstandyou. I know exactly what you mean about carrying the weight of losing someone. The lingering fear that another person you love can be taken from you at any moment. The harsh reality that no matter how hard you try, you can’t shield anyone from death. I always thought my father was some untouchable, unbeatable force. And for the most part, he was…until the end. Losing my father turned my whole world upside down. Made me question everything. My power, my safety, the future of my mafia. My ability to take care of those I love.”
Leaning my forehead against his, I whisper, “How did you get past it?”
“I haven’t yet. It still haunts me every day.”
“Do you think it will go away? The pain? The fear?” I search his eyes for any answer.
“I think it’ll get quieter. And over time, we’ll barely realize it’s there. But I don’t know if it can ever fully leave us.” His gaze falls to my lips. “Which is why we shouldn’t deny ourselves what we want. Just because loss and pain are inevitable doesn’t mean we have to stop ourselves from feeling joy. Stop ourselves from experiencing love.”
He sounds so sure. And though I can admit his reasoning was sound, the voice in the back of my head telling me to keep my guard up is screaming at me in full force. “I hear you. But it feels too risky…”
“Everything we do in this life is a risk. Some just pay off more than others,” Declan counters, as if he can sense I’m on the verge of breaking. On the verge of giving in to all the tension that has been building up since the moment we first met. “Why if we try?”
“Try?” I ask breathlessly.
“Try having a real relationship. A real marriage. One where we stop denying our feelings for each other, and just live.”
“Just live,” I repeat, the words sounding practically foreign to me. Even when my identity had been hidden from the world, and I had pretended to be a normal kid, in the back of my mind I always knew who I was. What my future would entail.
“So, what do you say?” Declan’s tongue peeks out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip as his thumb traces mine.
“I say y?—”
I’m cut off by the loud BANG of our front door being thrown open and slammed against the wall, followed by shouting coming from our security. I move onto my feet, ignoring the searing pain from my injured ankle. Declan whips his Glock out immediately and stands up in front of me, blocking me from anyone who may come in. I reach for the one I tucked away behind one of the couch pillows in case of emergencies. Both of us aim our guns at the entryway as frantic footsteps approach.
Connor’s voice is the first I can make out. “SIR, STOP. You cannot go any closer?—”
“I’LL DO WHAT I DAMN WELL PLEASE. I’M THE SECOND IN COMMAND OF THE GODDAMN MAFIA. NO MATTER WHAT SOME STUFFY LAWYER TELLS ME!” Declan’s uncle shouts back in return, the walls shaking with his anger.
He stalks into the room a moment later, revolver dangling from his hand, and rage filling his eyes as he glances between Declan and me.
“What thefuckhave you two done?”
32
