“We need this time,” I repeated, knowing I could lose her to her real blood, knowing that for once an influence greater than the pull of our mafia family could take her away. “I need you to trust me.” If she trusted me, I could trust myself enough to know I wouldn’t lose her.
But I felt us slipping through my fingers.
Like trying to close up a wound, the blood kept pouring out.
If she bled, I would bleed. If she died, we all would.
I was sure of it.
29
Katie
Icouldn’t keep trusting them. And yet the only place I felt home was with this man between my legs, and he was keeping me from the world.
We couldn’t go on like this.
My father’s note echoed over and over in my mind. I was made for more than just hiding in the shadows, letting others take control. I’d embedded myself deep inside this family so that I could be a true part of it, not a pawn.
Staring into the eyes of the man I thought I loved felt like war against my own mind. The longer I sat there going over all my days with the family, the more I wanted to demand answers.
Yet Rome didn’t ask me for anything. He didn’t ask anyone in the family for anything, really. He executed his job like I did mine. We’d been the same for a long time.
“I want gourmet food and you to read me Poe until you lose your voice.”
He eyed me curiously.
“I should be able to sneak around your house at least. If Bastian and them already know, what’s the harm? You guys can keep the Russian mob out of here. And I want to get some clothes.”
“I’m agreeing to everything but the last thing. You don’t need clothes.”
“Bring me more clean shirts, then.”
“Done.” He grabbed a book from the shelf and wrapped his arm around my waist before he lifted me and carried me back to the bed.
I snuggled into the crook of his arm. It might have been selfish and totally stupid, but I wanted these last couple of days with him. I wanted him to myself in our little panic room. “I’m probably going to regret agreeing to this.”
“If you do, we’ll have had this at least.” He held up Poe. When he turned to a page and started reading, I got lost in the story.
Darkness and death were obsessions of the author, and maybe that’s why we both gravitated toward him. I looked at Rome and his strong jawline as he read. He glanced at me, and his smirk warmed my body. In a different life, maybe we could have been the perfect couple.
When he finished the story, he grumbled, “I think Poe killed people.”
“Like you?”
“Somehow. He writes like he knows.”
“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you hadn’t ever killed anyone?”
His lip pulled back, and he grunted. “Not really. I was born for it. My soul was never really quiet. I was an anxious kid and always had tendencies.”
“Like killing baby animals?” I lifted my eyebrows in mock horror.
He chuckled at me. “No, crazy woman. What the hell? I just liked finality. I wanted an end to everything. I wanted puzzles complete, shows to come to their end, and people to finish everything they started. It led to me wanting to complete business for the family, and that was ultimately taking lives and tying up loose ends.”
“Hmm. Do you think we’ll be a loose end?”
“One way or the other.” He picked at the fuzz on the blanket I’d wrapped around me while he’d been reading. “I think we’ll figure out how to end us if that’s the case, though. It’ll probably be explosive.”