He agrees silently by getting out of bed and getting dressed. It’s almost like he’s excited. I watch as he puts on his shirt, his trousers, and his blazer. Then the gloves. He slides the black leather over his fingers—the same fingers that were buried in me hours ago. A sick possessiveness curls in my gut.Mine. I took his virginity.
He’s mine. The thought is intrusive. Unfit. But I want to brand him so no one else ever tries to look.
I get dressed too, and we leave in his car. He’s going on his first date…and it’s with me.Mine. Mine. Mine.
I link my phone to the speakers of his expensive car, filling the black beast with Lana Del Rey.
Valerio’s eyes are fixed on the road. “The woman singing sounds like she wants to die.”
“She sounds like she’s in love,” I counter.
“Same thing.” He reaches over, resting a gloved hand on my knee. The tingling between my legs starts again, but this time it tingles in my heart too.Fuck.I’m in too deep. I’m invested in Valerio Morelli—not just my body…my heart too.
Ten minutes later, he brings his hand to his mouth and takes the glove off with his teeth, placing his bare hand on my thigh. I absolutely melt.
We do the things “normal” people do. We get ice cream. We talk about anything and everything under the sun.
“It’s melting,” he grumbles at the vanilla ice cream. He looks at a group of teenagers laughing too loudly near the trash cans. “If that boy hits the glass one more time, I’m going to break his wrist.”
He isn’t “better.” Is it bad that I prefer him just the way he is? With me being the only person who can tame him? It’s selfish.
Later, we’re at a small outdoor table, and I’m nursing a coffee, watching the way the sun hits the sharp line of his jaw. I’m almost happy.
Then she appears.
A woman in her late forties. She has his eyes—the same gold-flecked irises—but hers are wide, flooded with terror. She stops at the edge of our table, her face turning the color of ash.
Valerio goes perfectly still. The espresso cup in his hand cracks.
The woman’s hand shakes as she points a finger at me. “Leave,” she whispers. “Save yourself. Get out now.”
I frown, setting my cup down. “I’m sorry?”
“You don’t know!” she screams suddenly. The sound is shrill. People stare, but she doesn’t care. “They’re monsters! All of them. He’ll drain the life out of you until you’re just a shell! Run while you still can!”
She turns and bolts, her coat flapping behind her like a shroud.What a weird woman.
Valerio stares at the empty space she left, his face unreadable. The cup finally gives way in his grip, dark liquid seeping into the leather of his glove.
“Valerio?” I reach for him.
“The check is paid,” he says. His voice is dead. The man from the bed is gone. “We’re leaving.”
The car ride is a tomb.
The Lana Del Rey track is still playing, but the music feels like a mockery now. The speedometer climbs—eighty, ninety—as he weaves through city traffic. It seems like he can’t wait to get rid of me.
“Valerio, talk to me.”
He doesn’t acknowledge me.
“That woman,” I say. “She had your eyes. The exact same gold. Was that her? Was that your mother?”
The car swerves violently as he jerks the wheel, tires screaming against the pavement before he corrects it.
“Don’t,” he rasps.
“Lucian said she was gone, but he never said she was—”
