“It’s in your eyes,” he whispers, his tone rough and knowing. “You look at me as if you would die if I vanished from your life.”
Jesus, the fact that he can see it in my eyes makes panic flare through me again.
Does he know I’m losing my mind? Has he watched me and found out about my psychiatrist? Maybe Rosie hacked into my medical records and learned about the medication I’m taking?
No. She wouldn’t invade my privacy like that. Not even for him.
A reckless urge to admit everything strikes hard. If he realizes how weak and broken I am, he’ll walk away.
Pride shatters the thought before it can take root. I won’t survive the look in his eyes if he sees me as the fragile, pathetic mess that I am, someone who’s not worth the fight.
My thoughts spiral and collide, crushing my chest as my anxiety spikes. I battle myself once again, caught between the love I feel for this man and the terror of losing him forever.
Christiano’s lips brush against mine as he inhales my scent, and it brings all my attention back to him as he continues saying, “And you don’t kiss a man you despise the way you kissed me.”
The moment is way too intense for me to handle, and before I can stop myself, I grab hold of his sides, gripping him like he’s the only thing keeping me upright.
Christiano has always had power over me. He is the only man capable of making my body come alive while flooding me with so much desire that it strips me of all control. No matter how hard I’ve pushed him away, the pull has never faded. Ifanything, today has made one thing brutally clear, and it’s that the attraction between us has increased dramatically.
The knowledge settles in my chest like a death sentence, and feeling defeated, I close my eyes.
His arms wrap around me, gently holding me to his chest. Slowly, the tension drains from the air, and when Christiano presses a gentle kiss to my lips, a lump forms in my throat.
It takes strength I didn’t know I possessed to keep the tears from breaking free.
He presses another tender kiss to my mouth, then pulling away completely, he says, “I know you need time to process things, so I’ll give you a few weeks to think about everything I said while I deal with the Irish.”
It’s not a win, but it’s something I can work with.
Christiano’s eyes finally soften, but it makes the meager grip I have on my emotions slip. When my chin begins to tremble, his expression tightens with the heartache I’m putting him through.
Shaking his head, he groans, “Why are you doing this to us?”
Too weak, I lower my head and wrap my arms around my middle.
After a few seconds, he comes to press a kiss to the top of my head and gives my bicep a squeeze. “I love you, baby.”
Oh God.
Pain slices through my soul, and I wish more than anything that I was stronger and worthy of Christiano.
When he moves away from me and walks to the front door, he adds, “I’ll send two guards to assist Alfio with protecting you.”
Keeping my head bowed, I nod because I know it will be stupid to argue.
When the door shuts behind him, I stand frozen for what feels like ten minutes, and once I’m sure he’s gone, my lips part and the air leaves me in a whoosh.
My lungs lock up with such a severe panic attack that I struggle to make it to the bathroom. When I grab hold of my medication, my vision blurs. It feels like my mind dissociates from my body, and I sway on my feet as I shove the tablet into my mouth.
The entire room spins, and struggling to remain standing, I slap my hand against the wall, but unable to keep myself up, I fall. I barely feel the pain as I hit the ground and pass out.
Chapter 12
Christiano
The past few months have been grueling. The only positive is that Augusto married the head of the Yakuza’s daughter, and peace has been established between them.
Thank God for small mercies.
