Her belly grumbles, and she places a hand on her stomach, eyeing me with an apologetic glance.
Needing to take care of my woman, I offer her my hand. “Let’s have dinner.”
She looks from my eyes to my hand for long seconds, causing my nerves to riot before she takes it, soothing my anguish. Her soft, smaller one fits perfectly in mine. Another sin won’t matter at this point because that’s what the foreplay is—corrupting the innocent.
“I should have known you’d be coming after I saw the fridge stocked,” she sighs, fidgeting with her fingers.
I grip her chin, making her look up at me. “What’s the matter?”
I already know, but I want her to trust me enough to confide in me while I am deceiving her in the worst way possible. But I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to either. Until the truth pops the bubble, I want to give her a Tristan no one has ever witnessed or experienced—open, raw, vulnerable. It’s the least I can do.
“I don’t know how Evie will react to the news.”
I shrug. I love my sister, but not even she can make me change my mind.
“Why are you so calm about this? This is crazy, and you appear so cool, so unaffected by it.” Annoyance coupled with hurt underlies her voice.
She will get used to my character. It’s not in my nature to lose my cool.
“I know just one thing. You’re mine, Viviana. I don’t care about how others might react to that, including my sister.”
She tilts her head, her eyes widening in defiance. “Yours? Quite a bold statement.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise a brow. “Contradicting it only strengthens my resolve to demonstrate it, and I am trying here, Viviana.”
Her eyes narrow on me as if wanting to reach my soul. “Trying what?”
She’s not only beautiful but also smart. I guess being emotionally intelligent is a prerequisite for her future job as a preschool teacher.
Fulfilling her dream of teaching kids has to satisfy her desire not to have her own. I won’t have children. Ever.
Lifting my hand, I brush my knuckles along her soft cheek. “To woo you. Get to know each other. Date.”
She goes completely still. “You’re not serious.”
“I never joke.”
“I’m getting that.” She gulps. “But?—”
I place a finger on her mouth. “Don’t. Just don’t. I know what I’m doing.”
I have no fucking idea what I am doing.
It’s just puzzle pieces running rampant through my head while I try to reveal the image with no instructions. I need a plan. A clear mind. But with her presence resembling a damn bulldozer wrecking my focus, it won’t happen anytime soon.
“I can’t date you. We can’t be together. I?—”
“You’re what?”
She lets out a long sigh coated in dejection. I am perfectly aware that she’s limited in what she can do. Goddamn it, she will hate me, but by my side, she will be free. Freer, at least.
“Please, you don’t understand. I can’t tell you specifics, but my family is dangerous. What we did was…” Her voice breaks, not even able to finish the sentence.
Her shoulders droop, chest caving, her slumped posture revealing she doesn’t regret giving in to desire, but she knows she should because in the Mafia, virginity is a trade.
Gripping her chin, I say above her lips, matter-of-factly, “I’m not afraid. Of anyone.”
Her palm touches the top of mine, eyes pleading. “You should be.”
