Her eyes remain steadfast on mine. “He makes you nervous,” she says. It’s not a question, but it feels like one.
“I want you to have a security detail.”
Her pert little nose wrinkles, and she sits back against her seat, though I notice her hand doesn’t pull away from mine. “Bodyguards?” She grimaces. “Is that really necessary? If he wanted to hurt me, wouldn’t he have done so before he found you? Plus, I think we’ve established that I can take care of myself.”
“Meeting him wasn’t a coincidence,” I inform her. “He was following you, he engineered walking you back to our home, and killing one man does not make you a badass.”
Her gasp of outrage should not be as cute as it is, nor should it ease the rage and concern inside of me the way it does. “Yes it does!” she argues. “I didn’t even cry.”
No, she hadn’t, but that doesn’t negate the fact that she got fucking lucky and has absolutely no training. “I’ve killed more people than you,” I tell her. “Therefore, I’m the badass, and what I say goes.”
Her groan echoes throughout the car, and Alonzo’s responding quiet chuckle earns him a glare in the rearview mirror.
“He only approached me because I’m your wife. When he realizes that I’m not that important to you, I’m sure he and Constantin will leave me alone.”
Not that important to me? Not thatfuckingimportant?
Turning fully, I push her back against the seat. Her eyes go big and round as I clamp one hand on her throat and the other against the door at her side.
Daisy’s big, hazel eyes stare up at me. Green, brown, andblue swirl in an assortment of colors. “I don’t know where you got that insipid idea that you aren’t important to me,” I begin. When her mouth opens, no doubt to spear me with some sort of ridiculous offsetting bullshit, I release the door to clamp a hand over her lips as well before continuing. “But let me be the one to correct you. You are my wife, Daisy. Regardless of how we got married—whether you felt forced or not—”
From beneath my hand, I hear her mumbling something that sounds close to a “duh!” I ignore it.
“The fact is,” I hiss through my teeth, narrowing my eyes on hers. “You and I are bound together.This?” I drop my hand from her mouth and reach for her fingers, lifting them up to showcase the glittering gem on her ring finger. “This is proof of howimportantyou are to me.” I lean forward and press my forehead to hers. “You’re my wife,cara.” The thought of anything happening to her makes my blood run cold and my skin turn clammy in a way that it hasn’t since I was a child.
“But—”
“No,” I bite out, lifting my head again “No ifs, no ands, and fucking no buts. You aremy wife.” Christ. I want to shake her. I clamp my hand down on her hand, lowering it to our sides to stop myself from doing so. “I am your husband. Those are facts, and if either Constantin or Emilio Cesari lays a hand on even a single strand of hair that belongs to me—I will gut them like the insignificant fish they are and dump them in the ocean.”
She blinks. At first, it’s only one, two, three long blinks, but then they come faster. Up and down, her lashes flutter as if she’s fucking seizing. What the fuck?
“Daisy?”
She tries to pull her face from my grip, but I constrict my hold and refuse to let her move. “Don’t run from me,” I warn her. “If you run from me, I will follow. There is not a place on this Earth that you can run to that I would not find you. Now, what’s wrong?”
The blinking stops. “Giulio,” she whispers my name. “Your family is your life.”
I tilt my head, waiting for her to continue. When she doesn’t, I frown. “And?” I urge.
Even though she can’t yank herself away, she still lets her eyes slide to the left, looking toward the front of the car and Alonzo. Without missing a beat, I reach back to the door and press a button that has the partition I never use rising to separate us. That seems to give her a modicum of relief, and her shoulders slump, her eyes returning to mine.
“We didn’t get married because we were in love or anything,” she says. “Even if we’re husband and wife, that doesn’t mean you consider me your family. We hardly know each other.”
“We know each other well enough, I would think,” I reply. After all, I’ve been deep inside her without a single thing between us. I’ve watched her laugh and cry and even seen the aftermath of what she’ll do to protect her own. Whether this woman realizes it or not, she’s perfect for me. Volatile. Curious. Bloodthirsty in a way I hadn’t expected considering how innocent she seems on the outside.
“Do you trust me?” I ask.
White teeth flash as she sinks them into her lower lip briefly before releasing the abused flesh. “Depends on what I’mtrusting you with,” she replies. Of course, there’s always stipulations with her. I fight back a grin despite my frustration.
“Your safety,” I tell her. “Do you trust me to keep you safe?”
The vehicle bumps and sways, and then I feel my body lean toward her as we turn onto a new street. “I guess.” She shrugs.
She guesses? A low growl rumbles up my throat, but before I can demand what the hell else I have to do to ensure she knows how well I’ll protect her, she starts talking.
“Listen,” she says, “I appreciate you taking care of Dead and Stupid, really, I do.” Those hazel eyes look up at me beseechingly. “But even if you don’t believe in divorce or separation after you’re married, it’s still so new to me. It’ll take a while for us to really understand each other. I don’t know why Emil or Constantin think that I mean more to you than I do. At this point, I’m an obligation because, at the end of the day, I have no clue what the fuck I’m doing here. I don’t know your lifestyle. I don’t know all the twists and turns. What to say. What not to say.”
Dead and Stupid? What the—ah yes, the man she killed. I shake my head. The more she talks, the angrier I get. “You’re more suited for this life than you think,” I inform her. “As for Constantin and Emilio, rest assured, they will both understand soon that you are not to be fucked with. You are mine, and as such, you are off-limits. You will do as I tell you, and you will be safe.”
