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A thin line of blood trickled from a cut on his forehead.
"Trust me, dolcezza. He won't get far."
The deadly promise hung in the air between us.
He helped me to my feet with surprising gentleness, then swept me into his arms as though I weighed nothing.
He carried me toward his waiting car.
I swallowed down my fear and asked, "So what happens now?"
CHAPTER 36
SABRINA
He didn't answer.
In fact, he didn't say a word.
Not. One. Fucking. Word.
Not for the entire drive back to the palazzo.
Not when the staff greeted us, their eyes downcast, sensing the storm brewing between us.
Not when he grabbed me by the hand, his grip like steel, and pulled me past all those colorful frescoes and paintings.
Not when he dragged me over the threshold to his bedroom and slammed the door with such force the crystal decanter on his side table rattled.
And definitely not when he shoved me against the door, held my face in his hands, and claimed my mouth in a searing, soul-stealing kiss.
The taste of whiskey and fear on his tongue was intoxicating. His kiss demanded submission, punishing and rewarding in equal measure.
His body pressed against mine with barely contained violence. Every hard inch of him crushed against my softness, the outline of his belt buckle digging into my stomach, the buttons of his shirt imprinting themselves into my flesh.
The scent of gunpowder and blood still clung to his skin, a reminder of what he was capable of, of what he'd done to protect what he considered his.
For the barest of moments, I allowed myself to believe.
To believe that his fear was for me.
That the tremor in his hands as they fisted in my hair was from the thought of losing me.
That this was about us.
Then that moment was gone.
This wasn't about us.
It was about him.
Always him.
The gravitational force that pulled everything into his dark star, consuming, destroying, leaving nothing but ashes and want in his wake.
When he pulled back, his hands still cradled my face, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones with a gentleness that belied the fury in his eyes. "Don't you ever fucking put yourself in danger like that again. Do you understand me?"
There was no denying he had been worried, afraid even.