Kill Marco.
“No, he wouldn’t.”
I move towards the door. I don’t want to extend this current conversation any longer than necessary. I’ve got all the information I need, and I politely want to let Elio have some alone time in this hospital room.
I clap my hand on his shoulder before leaving.
I make my way back home, mentally cataloging people as I pass. The vast majority of them—the various soldiers, guards, and even basic staff wouldn’t be loyal to Marco after death. He never fostered that from them, and I’m sure they’d fall in line with me or anyone else that could take charge.
Never in a million years would I have assumed that I’d be conspiring with Elio. And while I obviously don’t trust him yet, his loyalty may be the last sign I need to hurry and act on this impulse.
I nod at my four soldiers stationed outside of my apartment, grateful that they’re here to keep Sofia safe and inside. I swear she thinks attempting an escape is a cutesy thing, but if Marco got her hands on her before me… she would never be the same again.
My shoulders slump in disappointment when I see she isn’t on the couch, then I walk into my bedroom and confirm that she’s fast asleep already. I shouldn’t have wasted time going to the hospital, but she probably went to bed while Marco was still droning on.
“Sofia?” I ask softly, curious if that will rouse her. But she only shifts in her sleep.
Maybe this is for the best, anyway. This will give me some time to sort out what is going on in my head.
Chapter 19
Sofia
I’msurprisedtoseehim still asleep next to me when my eyes open to the sunlight streaming in. He never sleeps in.
Yesterday’s conversation immediately comes to my mind; I see him in a different light now that he has opened up to me. I knew Marco was horrible from personal experience, but what he described was worse than I imagined. And his mother? I assumed he had a normal early childhood before living with Marco, which was clearly not the case.
He lies next to me, no shirt and his arm resting over his head, practically inviting me in.
But I have conflicting reasons why I want to crawl towards him and cuddle next to his chest. Part of me genuinely wants to chase the high I feel whenever he touches me. But I’m not safe behind the walls of this castle. And I know I need to toughen up and try to seduce him without falling myself if I want to get out of this place.
I sit up in bed, hesitating and expecting this bit of shifting to stir him awake. But he continues his slow, sleeping breaths. My heart pounds in my chest in anticipation, wondering if this is too forward. If he’ll throw me off of him if I rest on him.
But I’ve seen the way he looks at me—I know he’s interested.
I crawl towards him, then move my head towards his chest slowly until it rests on his warm skin, wrapping my arm across him. His arm above his head moves, scaring me, but it’s only to move me closer to him so that we’re lying together flush. His hand rests on my ass and doesn’t move.
I freeze, feeling confined and wondering if he’s woken up already.
But being trapped like this feels… nice.
And his breathing hasn’t changed.
His arm holding me in place feels comforting rather than dangerous. The fact that he can over-power me so easily terrified me when we got married. Now? It stirs up feelings in me I’m desperately trying to suppress.
I haven’t been this close to him before, at least not in a cozy, intimate sort of way. I trace the outline of one of his tattoos, some abstract symbol on his arm that I’ve never bothered to ask about. I’ve never liked tattoos too much, but his I don’t mind. They aren’t loud or even very noticeable. Black. Professional-looking.
His breathing stops for a beat, and my heart races. Is he awake?
Then the rhythm repeats and I relax, wondering how long we’re going to be like this and what’s going to happen when he wakes up.
I shift around a bit, moving my leg over his. Pulling it back quickly when my knee nudges his hard length fighting against his boxer briefs.
Oh, my God.
Was he like that before I moved closer?
His hand squeezes my backside and then guides my leg back to where I retreated from. Then he strokes my thigh up and down. I wonder if he can feel my wetness through my underwear resting on him. I’m not wearing shorts, just an oversized t-shirt and a thong.
