“You’re not?”
“When we were teenagers, I dreamt about a scenario whereyouwere the jealous one. This was as close as we’ve ever gotten to one.” He took a long drag of his cigarette.
I snorted, shaking my head. My heart rate slowed enough for me to take a breath and notice our surroundings. We were on a busy street. I grabbed his hand in mine and squeezed, heading toward an ice cream shop. “Is this…normal?”
“What? People whispering and snickering when they see my face?” He puffed a cloud of smoke, looking unaffected. “Pretty much. I’m used to it.”
My throat was thick with tears. “How do I make it up to you?”
“You already did.” He lifted a devious eyebrow, his stride nonchalant.
“How?”
“By loving me despite my face.”
The ache inside my chest grew.
“Besides, who says I’d have changed anything about what happened the night of the fire?”
“Of course you would have,” I spluttered. “I would, too.”
“Well, I wouldn’t. The scars you left were a reminder you were once mine. And during the bad times, they were what I clung to. The evidence that I had you once and that maybe I could have you again.”
“I don’t deserve you,” I said, and meant it.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But you have me anyway. Forever.”
Chapter Sixty-One
Tierney
I loved Achilles,but I sometimes questioned his professional decisions, which seemed to directly cause bloodshed and underground wars.
“This is not necessary at all,” I said for the millionth time as I jerked a dress from a hanger in my walk-in closet. A black bustier minidress that flaunted my assets…and my new tan from the mini-vacation he and I had taken in the Hamptons earlier in the week. “Meeting with Tristan Hale, with Lyosha of all people.”
If I were being honest, I was more nervous about seeing Alex again than I was about seeing the man who’d tried to kill me. For Tristan Hale, I was nothing but a botched assignment. It wasn’t personal, and he’d moved on to his next hit job. With Alex, it was different.
I’d managed not to meet him ever since he and Tiernan became friends again. Lyosha never treaded deep into the East Coast territory so as not to piss off the Ferrantes, and I never went to Vegas because…well, my taste ran more along the lines of French Riviera and less Sin City.
But Alex and I shared a childhood. A story. He knew things about me no one but Tiernan, Achilles, and Dr. Andrews were privy to.
“This is a recipe for disaster,” I added when I realized I wasn’t getting any response from Achilles. I slid into the dress, shimmying it up my waist and turning around for Achilles to zip. He did, dutifully.
“Someone’s gonna die,” I warned.
“No one’s dying tonight, Piccola Fiamma,” he reassured me. “And we’ll be having a family dinner, as well. Our first official outing with our families as a couple.”
“Too many big egos in one room.” I ignored his words. “And why does it have to be in Forbidden Fruit? Why can’t we have a business meeting at the mansion or in one of your hotels?”
“Because I’m ambushing Tristan Hale.”
Groaning, I stomped to my shoe rack and plucked out my red heels. “I still don’t understand your need to see him.”
“I want to make sure he never comes near you again.” Achilles slid his watch-collection drawer open, clasping a Cartier on his thick wrist. “And I need to know why he missed that fucking shot.”
My blood froze in my veins. I spun to him slowly, my mouth agape. “So you think it’s weird that he missed too?”
“He never planned on killing you.” Achilles’s low growl rumbled between my hips, spreading heat along my spine. “And I want to know why. What was his plan, and what was he hoping to achieve?”
