A sound of satisfaction rumbles in his throat. “Although we took care of that on our first night together.”
The asshole.
The jerk.
The bastard.
I hate him.
“How are you spending your last night of peace?” I ask, infusing a fake cheer.
“Right, you’ve threatened me with war. Looking forward to that.”
I swallow the lump of emotion. “It’s your fault… I…”
I dreamed about our marriage, opposite of the norm in the Mafia, but reality had other plans. If I don’t get to live my dream, neither will his life with me be a happy one.
Misery awaits us.
“You asked what I’m doing. I am looking at my life,” he says hoarsely, softness threading through his voice, awakening those pesky butterflies in my belly.
I instinctively look at the hotel across the street. I see him on the balcony, gazing at me.
For a few moments, nothing else exists but his gravitational pull drawing me to him like the damn black hole he is, sucking me in with no regard that he’s snubbing my light.
I scowl. “Me, your life? No, I am just a pawn on your chessboard.”
“You’re the queen.”
“Even worse, because you sacrifice it to save yourself, the king.”
“The king is nothing without his queen,” he says resolutely, no trace of dishonesty.
I am about to hang up, but as if he senses it, he rushes to add, “I’ll win you back,mo run. I know I messed up. I know I’ve hurt you, but I will do any-fucking-thing to make you see that in my black and white life, you’re my splash of color. The only thing that matters to me.”
I wave him away. “Don’t waste your poetics on me. I trusted you once. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
“Tell me your price.”
If I request the key to his empire, he would hand it over. But I can’t be bought.
He’s already gifted me a black Centurion, and I’ve spent ten million dollars. Six for this damn wedding and four for preschool projects across the less privileged parts of the city. The card still works. Apparently, there’s no limit to how much I can spend.
An idea hits me, making me both giddy and weary. I jerk my chin at him, smirking. “A baby.”
He drags a hand down his face. “Smart woman. See why there could have been no one else for me but you?”
All I hear is that even if he says he’d do anything to win me back, he won’t give me a child—the only thing I truly desire.
“Sure, I am so damn smart I’ve let you fool me. Rest assured, I don’t want your spawn,” I declare, conveying irritation and feigning annoyance.
I can’t allow a second of weakness, or he’ll bulldoze right through my defense.
“My spawn?” he chuckles.
“Yeah,” I say, flicking my hair back in a pose of indifference. “You were right. You stem from a long line of evil. We should break the cycle of wickedness.”
My heart pounds a wild rhythm, the guilt knocking me off balance. My pain doesn’t give me the right to cross a boundary or be cruel.
