I let go of his jacket and take a couple steps back, feeling anger boiling in my body, but I tamp it down. Keep it as cold as the snow on the ground.
“You’re a stalker now, is that it?” I ask him.
Tommaso is the one to step closer now and looks down at me with a heated expression. “I’ll be whatever I have to be to get you to talk.”
“Now you want me to talk about my wife? Is that it? You think following me here and getting me to spill my guts will get me to tell you about the Bianchis? Well, you’re wrong.”
He suddenly grabs me by the back of my hair and I grunt in response.
“I’m getting’ sick of this already, Aleksandr. I’m not a patient man. I don’t care what I have to do, you’re going to talk to me.”
I shove him away, but he maintains his grip on my hair and I have to grab him in return to get enough force to pull away from him.
Our hot breath causes the air in between us to fog up.
“You’re a child,” I say coldly. “You can’t get what you want so you force it. You’re no better than the Bianchis.”
He shoves me backwards until I nearly trip over the headstone next to hers.
My boots cause the grass and dirt to tear up from the ground in several small patches.
“You keep me out of your mouth,” he growls, and the sound brings goosebumps up my spine.
Guilt immediately follows.
“This is ridiculous,” I tell him. “Give me one good reason I should work with you, Tommaso. One reason why I should not just kill you right here and now.”
“Other than the fact that my family would have your head by tomorrow morning?” he asks me, panting softly. His own hands in fists and his gun still at his side. “Besides, if you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it already.”
“I’d be long gone before they could catch me,” I tell him coldly. “Believe me.”
He eyes me from head to toe and then tilts his head to the side. “Because I know you want Stephan Bianchi dead, and I can help you with that.”
I grit my teeth and try not to let him see any expression on my face. I simply look at him, trying to decide if I can really trust him. Trust his family.
“How do I know that I can trust you?” I ask him.
Tommaso steps closer to me, looking up at me and not breaking eye contact.
“I need you. You have what I need. Plus, I don’t want the Rose to come after my family. I’d be stupid as fuck to double-cross you, and while I’m not known for holding myself back from a fight… I’m not an idiot.” His voice is low and I can practically feel his hot breath against my face in the fog that it causes. He smells of pine and sweat.
I need you.
He says those words so easily. They mean an entirely different thing, but they still make my stomach warm. How can I stand here near my wife’s grave and feel my body tingle in the presence of this man?
How fucked up can I be?
I sigh and look toward the ground, at the tufts of dirt that my boots brought up.
“I admit, working together would be a benefit to both of us,” I tell him.
“See, you’re already in the spirit,” Tommaso says with a smirk.
I glare at him low under my lashes before I look up completely. “There’s nothing spiritual about this,” I spit at him. “If we work together, it’s only to achieve the same goal. Nothing more.”
“That’s…not what I meant,” he mumbles and shakes his head. “Never mind. If you’re willing to work with me, that’s all I need.”
I take a step to the side and onto the pathway out of the cemetery. I’m tempted to take one last look at her headstone with the poppies laid down on it, but I can’t bear it. So, I simply start walking out of the cemetery without another word.
