“I’m not attached,” I said plainly. “Doesn’t change the fact she’s going to be my wife soon.”
“You looked ready to kill me for upsetting her,” Sergio scoffed.
“You were doing your best to piss me off,” I said.
“You usually enjoy that.” Sergio smirked. I ignored him and reached for my phone instead.
“Get Paolo and Enzo ready for a meeting with Santino,” I muttered.
Sergio straightened slightly. “You’re seriously doing what she suggested?”
“Yes.”
“The waterfront deal?” he checked again.
“They’ll take it.” I glanced toward Chiara again. “Especially if we make it look reluctant.”
Sergio shook his head slowly. “That tiny little psycho handed you a loaded weapon before breakfast.”
A quiet smile almost pulled at my mouth before I crushed it. “She’s useful.”
“She’s trouble,” Sergio said.
“Same thing.” I took another sip of my coffee. “She makes it work.”
Across the room, Chiara laughed softly at something one of her siblings said. The sound hit me strangely. Warm. Sweet. Nothing soft survived long in my world. Men like me ruined softthings. We dirtied them. Claimed them. Broke them apart until they belonged to us completely.
And Christ, I wanted to claim her already. Not just the ring. Not just her name. All of her.
I wanted her sleeping in my bed every night. Wearing my clothes. Carrying my child. Looking at me before anyone else when she laughed like that. The possessiveness hit so hard it almost pissed me off.
Sergio rubbed a hand over his jaw. “You know she’ll never bend completely, right?”
I stayed silent.
“She’s too stubborn,” he continued carefully. “Too angry. You could still walk away before this gets messy.”
Finally, I looked at him. “And why the fuck would I do that?”
“Because eventually she’ll hate you for real,” Sergio muttered. “And you’ll be locked into a marriage with a woman trying her best to escape you, any chance she gets.”
Maybe. But I’d seen the way her body reacted to me. The way her breathing changed when I got too close. The way those blue eyes darkened every time I talked about putting her beneath me.
Chiara hated me. But she wanted me too. That was the problem.
I leaned back slowly in my chair. “I like a challenge.”
Sergio stared at me for a long moment before muttering something in Italian and standing. “You always did enjoy suffering.”
“That’s why I tolerate you,” I winked at him.
“Fuck you too, boss.”
I barely heard him leave. My attention stayed fixed on Chiara.
She stood near the windows clutching my phone tightly while sunlight turned her blonde hair almost white around the edges. Then she lifted one hand to wipe quickly beneath her eye beforeshe realized I could see her reflection in the glass. Crying. Over her family.
The sight settled somewhere ugly beneath my ribs. Not pity. Possession.
