I raised an eyebrow, matching his. “God, you’re so bossy. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“My best trait, baby. Thanks for the compliment. Now spill. I want to take you for another round.”
I laughed, tension slipping off my shoulders like water. Then, after a long breath, I finally said it. “I want to go to university.”
The change in him was immediate. His face went cold. He pulled away from me and lay back, arms stiff at his sides. “No.”
I sat up, trailing my fingers lightly across his body, hoping for softness. “But I’m bored out of my mind. There’s nothing to do here.”
He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “You’ve got a gym, a library, a game room, a bar, a theater. Find something. But you’re not stepping outside this house.”
“Why not?” I asked, frustration bubbling in my throat.
He didn’t hesitate. “Because I don’t trust you.”
“I’ve never done anything to make you doubt me.”
“You haven’t because you haven’t had the chance.”
“That’s not fair. You’re punishing me for what Lucia did.”
In a flash, he was up and before I could move, his hands were on my shoulders, slamming me back into the mattress. His face was inches from mine, eyes blazing. “Don’t talk about Lucia. Don’t even say her fucking name.” His voice came out like a snarl, dark and guttural.
God, he still loved her. That’s all I could think. My breath caught, and my eyes stung. He must’ve felt it, heard the crack in my heart somehow because suddenly, he let go. Sat back. Pounded both fists into the mattress and shouted, “Fuck!”
I turned away, curling into myself, arms wrapped around my knees. I shut my eyes, fighting the tears that begged to fall. Only his ragged breathing filled the silence now. A heavy, broken sound. Minutes passed before he lay down beside me again without saying another word.
When I woke the next morning, I was wrapped in Carlo’s arms. For a split second, I was surprised he hadn’t woken me the way he usually did, by thrusting into me like it was his favorite alarm clock. Then the night before came flooding back and I understood why.
I gently tried to slip out of his grasp, but he pulled me back in. His voice came low, rough with sleep but soft in tone. “I’ll think about your request, Emily. I’m not promising anything... but I’ll try.”
That felt huge. The great Don Carloactually considering something I wanted. I didn’t want to ruin it. Didn’t want this fragile peace to crack.
My fingers traced the defined muscles of his arm as I whispered, “In the meantime, maybe I’ll get to work on building a body like yours. But only if you promise to train with me every day.”
He frowned dramatically. “Over my dead body.”
He buried his face in my neck with mock despair, and squeezed me. “You’re my teddy bear. I love your soft, delicious curves. Why the hell would I ever give that up?”
I bit his arm hard. He didn’t seem to feel it, not even a bit. Just looked at me with a smug smirk, eyebrow raised, like I was nothing more than a mosquito.
“Why does everything always have to go your way?” I grumbled, narrowing my eyes.
“Because I’m a selfish bastard.”
I reached up, brushing my fingertips along the lines of his brows. His expression shifted, then he leaned in and kissed my hand with surprising tenderness.
“Why do they call you the wife killer?” The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
The teasing, playful mood vanished, but to my surprise, he didn’t get angry. Instead, he gently moved me out of his arms, his face unreadable.
“I’ve been married three times,” he said flatly. “Two are in the ground. The third ran off to America. You tell me, doesn’t the nickname fit?”
“But you’re good to me.”
“Maybe because you’re not my wife.”
I was speechless for a second. “So… are you saying you had something to do with their deaths?”
