My father looks at me then at Vin, who is staring up at the ceiling and shaking his head.
Finally my father says, “I trust you. You’re a grown woman. I would offer you advice, but you know better than I what is right for you. Your mother may not be as silent on the matter,” he says with a chuckle.
I nod, fighting back tears. She won’t. I mean, she wouldn’t if this were a thing. But it’s not.
“The viewing is almost over,” Vin says, scanning the room. Something moves behind his eyes when his gaze lands on Ronan’s group near the far windows and then resolves as he turns back to my father. “Before the service begins, there are some things I need to handle. Sir, would you permit me to speak with Sophie privately for a moment?”
I open my mouth. “Oh, no that’s not—”
“Of course,” my father says, bowing his head and stepping back.
“Papá, you don’t have to—”
My father stops me with a look. “I will see you after the funeral, Sophia.” He touches my arm briefly.
Vin wraps his large hand around my small one, enveloping me, and when I look back, my father is gone.
Vin pulls me into him and tips my chin up. “I need you.” His voice is low and gravelly, his brown eyes almost black—
Frig. I know that look. Hewantsme.
“Vin. No. No!” I hiss.
The corner of his mouth lifts in a half grin, and I can’t help it. Instantly wet. What is wrong with me? We’re at a freaking funeral.
“That’s not your safe word, princess,” he says, walking backward and pulling me down a back hall.
It’s dark and empty and he’s pulling me into him, warm and strong and so freaking hard and suddenly my heart is pounding but for an entirely different reason.
“I’m not staying with you, Vin.”
“Make up your mind, Sophia. You said you didn’t want me staying with you, which means you’re staying with me.”
“That’s not what I—”
Vin grips my shoulders tight enough to bruise and slams his mouth into mine. My whole body responds by going almost completely limp in his grasp.
Jesus Christ, seriously, what is wrong with me?
“Vin, you’re grieving.”
“I’m not.” He devours my neck, pulling my dress down over my shoulder with a crack of ripped stitches. Oh Jesus.
“This really feels like some sort of psychotic break, Vin. This is not you. Not any of it.”
He pulls back from my neck. “Stop talking.”
“People do strange things when they go through a big life change, and becoming boss is a huge change.”
“Sophia. Stop. Talking.”
I glance back over my shoulder down the hallway toward the pavilion full of mourners and a corpse waiting to be buried.
“This could not be more inappropriate, Vin.”
He groans and bends down, grabbing me under my ass and throwing me over his shoulder before I have time to figure out what’s going on.
“Vincenzo!”
