“Stop.” She tried to sound firm and commanding, but I kept walking. She refused to understand the danger she’d put herself in.
“I said stop, Max.”
I jerked to a halt and rounded on her, my frustration sparking into anger. She was just as stubborn and reckless as I was, and it was absolutely infuriating.
“What?” I snapped. “What was so important that you risked your safety to show it to me?”
She lifted her chin, and those gemstone green eyes clashed with mine. I glowered down at her. She swallowed hard, but she didn’t drop her defiant posture beneath the weight of my menace.
“Evidence,” she replied evenly.
My brows rose. She couldn’t possibly mean what I thought she meant. That would be utterly idiotic as well as reckless.
“Evidence,” I repeated, the word a cold, flat warning. “You decided to look into your father’s ties to the Bratva? You really do have a death wish.”
I regretted my actions more than ever. She’d never known anything about her father’s corruption. She’d been entirely innocent and removed from the situation. Now, she’d plunged into the conspiracy, and if she kept digging, she wouldn’t like what she found.
I didn’t want that for her. The truth would hurt her, but not nearly as much as my enemies would hurt her if they felt threatened by her actions. Or my own family.
The thought of her screaming for mercy echoed through my mind, taking on the familiar, grating note of my mother’s screams. My fists clenched at my sides, and I tasted blood in my mouth as my gnashing teeth tore my cheek.
She bristled, offended. “No, because my father’s ties to the Bratva don’t exist. I have the evidence from the casefiles of your family’s crimes. There’s absolutely nothing in there about Bratva involvement. If I can just show you the truth, then—”
“Are you fucking serious?” I cut her off, furious at her for recklessly endangering herself.
She straightened her spine and met my rage head-on, her peridot eyes sparking with her own anger. She was fierce but so small in my shadow. Did she really not have any idea how fucking breakable she was?
“Yes, I’m serious.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a flash drive. “This is the evidence my father brought against your family at trial ten years ago. They might’ve told you a different version of history, but this is proof. They aren’t at all innocent, Max. The Bratva had nothing to do with them being sent to jail.”
I snatched the drive from her hand and flung it down on the pavement. A soft sound of protest left her throat when I crushed it beneath my boot.
“I know my family is guilty,” I seethed. “You’ve wasted your time, and you put yourself at risk for nothing. I don’t give a shit about their crimes; don’t you get that? I care about the scumbag crap that your father pulled. I care that he’s the fucking beloved mayor of New York, when his hands are every bit as bloody as my father’s. I’m not naïve like you, Bambi.” I spat the insult in a harsh rebuke. Maybe if I was an asshole, she’d let go of this pitying crap and see reason. “I know how the world really works. People aren’t good. They aren’t kind. You live in a gilded fantasy, and if that’s where you want to stay in perfect ignorance, that’s fine with me. But stop coming to me with your bullshit. I’ve warned you about this already.”
Her freckled cheeks colored to a deep red flush by the time I finished. To my shock, she stepped toward me and lifted her face to mine, getting right in my personal space.
A low growl left my chest as the heat inside me flared into an inferno. Her lush lips were so close to mine, and her scent infused my senses—sweet and delicate, just like her. All I had to do was lower my face mere inches, and I could capture her mouth. I could tame that sharp tongue. I could hold her close and make her melt, until she didn’t have a thought in her pretty head, much less thoughts about defying me.
She let out a little warning growl of her own. “I’m not going to allow you to continue this insane vendetta against my father. If you think for one second that I’ll leave him vulnerable to your threats, then you’re the naïve one. And stop calling me Bambi.”
Her chest rose and fell on rapid breaths, and tantalizing images of her panting beneath me filled my mind. I could make her gasp. I could make her beg.
I could make her forget all about everything but me, and she wouldn’t think to put herself in danger as long as I had her in my arms.
I came to my senses and snapped my scowl back into place. That fantasy had become far too familiar and far too tempting. There was no way beautiful, innocent Alexandra would ever welcome me into her bed. I was deluding and distracting myself from what was really important: keeping her safe.