“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know what’s real anymore.”
He pulls me down onto his lap before I can stop him, one arm braced around my back, the other anchoring me in place. I go still for half a second as my body registers where I am.
Where I want to be.
“This is real.” His breath brushes against my jaw when he speaks, close enough that it sends a slow, dangerous awareness down my spine. “You and I are married. That’s not changing. Give me your hand so I can put your ring back where it belongs.”
I swallow hard.
“But that’s the problem… I’ll never believe you. The damage is already done.” My voice stays steady, even as my body betrays me by leaning into him, seeking comfort.
His chest rises as he inhales a deep breath.
“You’ll believe me,” he says, full of confidence. “I’ll make sure of it.”
My breath catches as his thumb brushes just below my ear, and my body reacts before I can shut it down, heat burning in a way I haven’t felt since everything fell apart.
I should move and protect myself.
His gaze drops to my mouth, and he runs his tonguebetween his lips, the same sweep that used to undo me, with the same teasing tension that always snapped before I could think too hard about it.
My lips part without permission, and my hand presses against his chest, not to push him away, but to hold myself there, to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm.
“If I do this…” I say, my voice quieter now, stripped of the sharpness, “promise you won’t lie to me again… or I’ll kill you.”
His gaze doesn’t waver.
“I promise, princess.”
I search his face, wondering if he’s lying, but rather than sense dishonesty, I believe him.
So I close the distance myself and press my mouth to his because deep down I know there’s no pulling back from us now.
His fingers weave into my hair, and he kisses me, controlled at first, then deeper, messier, like he’s been holding it in longer than I have.
It’s heat and frustration and everything we’ve yet to fight over, and everything we’ve tried to bury.
“You’re my wife,” he says into my mouth. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
34
BRONX
Niall Murphy, second in command of the Murphy family, looks exactly like I expected…a hardened man in his late fifties with sharp blue eyes that have definitely seen a hell of a lot of death and destruction.
He’s got two lieutenants flanking him as he walks into the restaurant where we agreed to settle up, but his focus is entirely on me.
“Payment has been confirmed,” he says, shoving the paperwork across the table at me and Kingston. “Two million euros, as agreed. The Blake debt is settled.”
“Good,” Kingston says, barely glancing at the documents. “We understand each other then.”
“We do.” Murphy leans back in his chair, studying me even though Kingston is my father’s representative at this meeting. “Your family’s reputation for honor precedes you. This was business, nothing personal, Bronx. So you might want to lose that chip on your shoulder right about now.”
I lean forward, letting him see exactly how personal this became the moment his men put hands on my wife.
“Let me make something very fucking clear to you, Murphy,” I say, my voice deadly quiet. “You came for my wife. You kidnapped what belongs to me. The only reason you’re walking out of here breathing is professional courtesy.”
