“Is that a threat?”
“Speak to her like that again and I’ll make it a fucking promise.” Kal squeezes my arm, and I whimper, shuffling closer to try and get him to let up. The scent of whiskey and cinnamon assaults me, and I feel a little light-headed as I inhale deeply, my nose brushing against the fabric of his suit.
Mateo’s eyes narrow, then he smirks and pulls me from Kal’s grasp, wrapping his arms around me in a tight, suffocating embrace.
“Be good, my darling,” he says, glaring over my head as he presses a chaste, pointed kiss to my hair, although I’m not really sure why.
He’s not affectionate, unless it’s trying to cop a feel, and he’s definitely misdirecting annoyance to the one person in this room that could make it seem like he never existed in the first place.
Not that my reluctant savior’s interference means anything. Kal’s just protective because he’s my father’s friend and employee. Not because he cares about me.
He’s made that abundantly clear.
Frankly, I’m not convinced the man has a caring bone in his entire body.
And yet, the book of poems he left me as a child, the words that inspired me and got me through the stilted, lackluster life of a Ricci daughter, suggests otherwise.
CHAPTER3
Kal
My golden goddessdoesn’t say a word as I peel out of the St. Leonard’s parking lot, fingers flexing over the leather steering wheel as I attempt to control my rage.
The visceral reaction I had to Mateo grabbing her, claiming her, was wholly inappropriate, but like all storm surges, I was powerless against it.
What I really wanted to do was put a bullet through de Luca’s brain, bend his fiancée over the church pew, and shatter her innocence as he bled out beneath us.
But I didn’t.
Couldn’t.
Even if not for the audience, taking that step with Elena isn’t something I can afford.
No matter how badly I want to.
There’s just too much at stake.
“You had no right to drag me out of there,” she says after we drive about a mile in silence, staring out the window as downtown whips past, Christmas wreaths and trees and the Santas on every corner blurring as I weave through traffic. “That was mynonnino’swake, and you just plucked me from it like his death didn’t matter.”
Gritting my teeth, I steal a glance at her. She wraps a strand of chocolate-colored hair around her index finger, holding it there until the tip turns purple, before finally releasing it.
It’s how she distracts herself from me, the onslaught of pain from loss of circulation pulling her mind from thoughts she shouldn’t have.
My sweet little masochist.
“Would you have rather I left you to fight off yourbelovedin the confines of his car?”
Imagining his hands on her soft skin, smoothing along her curves, or wrapped in her dark tresses makes me see red. My skin prickles, blood boiling just beneath the surface, and I shift in my seat to try to tamp down the fire spreading through me.
“He’s not my beloved,” she mutters, crossing her arms. The gaudy ring on her left hand catches in the overcast sunlight, sending a hot spark of fury uncurling in my chest. “He’s nothing but a thorn in my side.”
Pulling up in front of the Ricci’s luxurious Louisburg Square home, I park at the curb and switch off the engine. “And yet, you’re marrying him?”
Lifting her chin, she meets my eyes, and I feel lost in the golden swirl of her gaze; it’s warm and inviting, soft like wintertime and the edges she hides from the rest of the world.
“Is that a question,Kallum?” She breathes my name, her ruby red lips curving around each syllable the way I wish they’d curve around my dick, and I swallow over the knot that forms in my throat. “I’m afraid you already know the answer.”
Irritation bubbles up inside me, at her compliance to this world she has no business being a part of, and at how much I want her and cannot have her.