I focus on the blackness outlining those feelings, emphasizing it in my mind. I want to break her—own her. Erase the darkness inked on her soul. Use her innocence for myself; harvest it so she lives on in my bones.
And I won’t stop until she’s given me everything.
MY COUSIN SHOWS UP on my doorstep as I’m taking a peach cobbler from the oven, hands on his narrow hips, blue eyes pinched as if he smells something rotten.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to enter someone’s kitchen looking like you’ve just smelled week-old milk?” I shuck the red oven mitts off my hands, tossing them to the counter, and turn to face him.
Across the room, Benito gives me a quick nod and heads back to his post outside the front door. I swear, I’ve never met a more stoic, work-oriented man. It makes me want to crack him open, see what’s shriveled up inside.
Perching on the end of a bar stool at the island, Luca leans his elbows against the marble counter, schooling his features. His honey-brown hair sits slicked back with some kind of product, making him look older than his twenty-four years. “What the hell are you doing, Care?”
I glance at the dessert on my stovetop, then back at him, brows furrowed. “Baking. Is that not obvious?”
“I mean, what are you doinghere?”
“I live here.”
“Yeah, I fucking know.Why?You married my boss, a fuckingcapo. All for what? A nice new kitchen to bake pies in?”
Frowning, I rest my weight on the cabinet behind me. “This is a cobbler, not a pie. Please respect the difference.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fuck off with that, Caroline. You’re deflecting, and you know it. Why haven’t you followed through with your plan yet? What the hell are you waiting for?”
My insides somersault. Iknewgetting Luca involved would come back to bite me, but I figured I’d have an excuse for him when he finally showed. As one of my oldest friends and technically family, I thought maybe his insight would be beneficial to my plan. And it was, but he keeps harping on the situation (or, lack thereof), as though he has some personal stake in it.
Only one person besides me has a personal stake in this, and he doesn’t evenknowit.
Elia’s confession from the other night flashes in my mind, making me dizzy. ‘I like you,’ he’d whispered. A foreign feeling shot through me, trying to reconcile how he can feel that way when he barely knows me.
And why I want him to mean it.
“I’m waiting for anopportunity. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Oh, so suddenly, your safety isn’t my business?” Standing up, he walks over to me and mimics my stance, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s wearing all-black, a Montalto staple, though the contrast of the dark fabric against his skin is entirely different from Elia’s.
Luca looks unnaturally pale, flushed like he ran all the way here.
The heat from his side collides with my own, burrowing deep. Mystifying. I reach behind me and grip the underside of the countertop, trying to steady myself. “I’mmarried, Luca. It’s not your place anymore.”
“You’re only married because you wouldn’t accept my offer.”
“Because you didn’t have the money or power to throw around with my father. And you’re my cousin.”
“By marriage only.” His hand drops, sweeping over and prying mine from the counter. He links our fingers together, a gentle reminder. “Besides, that didn’t seem to bother you a year ago.”
“Things change.” But I don’t move my hand away, if only because it feels like ages since I’ve had a semblance of human contact. Benito is not exactly a cuddler.
“Does he know what you’re planning?”
I shake my head. “He can’t find out, either. I don’t need any extra complications.”
Elia Montaltowantsto be someone’s white knight. He doesn’t know how I’m already making him mine.
“I could still help you.” Luca side-eyes me, inching closer. His body against mine is warm, comfortable, but that’s it.
Instead of sending goosebumps along my spine like he did all those months ago, when I asked him to help erase the memories of the hands before him, all I feel is regret.
Regret for changing our relationship, for giving that part of me to him just because I couldn’t stand the thought of a grown man touching me before I even knew what I was doing—before I knew just how wrong it was.