“Because we aren’t exactly great at practicing self-restraint.”
“I don’t see a reason why we have to.” He followed so close, I felt the heat of his body behind me.
“The bratva need to trust me. They can’t do that with you between my legs.”
“They need to respect you. And bow to you. Nothing else. Those men will never trust you because they don’t trust each other, probably don’t even trust themselves.”
“Well, we have to restructure, rebuild, and start anew.”
“And what’s the first step in that?”
I turned to him just before we reached Bastian, Cade, and Dante, who were drinking at the bar. “Probably the little stunt you just pulled. An empty chamber in your gun? Why?”
“I didn’t reload after the car ride.” The man took that moment to wink at me.
I bit my lip at his mentioning it, my core heating at his words, at his playful way of messing with me.
“Don’t think about it in a sex club, huh? I’ll have to take you over my knee.”
I ground my teeth at him catching me. “I’m guessing no one bought that. Not after us arriving together, anyway.”
I tried to play it off, tried not to think about him in all the ways I wanted to. Holding a gun to him had jarred the thought of losing him right to the top of my mind. Really losing him. It made me want to grab him and announce we were official and exclusive. And I wanted to cower at the same time.
Loving somebody, breathing in their air and realizing they are breathing with you: that’s a gift, it makes you want to hold on to them so tight that even God can’t take them away.
When death creeps into your life, it scares you into the arms of everyone who loves you and makes you wrap up those you love back. And you like to think your love is sacred, that you’d get a pass from turmoil.
But death is fickle. Death is mean and predatory. I swear it seeks those people out that you love and pulls them down into the darkness, rips them from your arms, and makes you choke on their loss.
Losing him, even the thought of it, I couldn’t handle.
Was it right to back away, to cut the tie in the hopes that it wouldn’t hurt as much when that end came? Or was that selfish?
For me, it didn’t matter. For me, the answer was much simpler.
“Either way, it bought you their attention,” he said. “If you won’t give me your location, give me your number.”
“No.” I gripped Cleopatra around my neck, trying to remain strong. I needed to stand on my own, show the bratva that I could, and maybe show myself too because Rome could be gone in an instant. We all could. Our lives were fragile objects surrounded by wrecking balls of destruction. “We need to break the link, Rome. We need to move on, at least for now.”
“You don’t break the link, woman. What for? Because you don’t trust me? Or because you’ve got something to prove?” He let out a deep sigh before he continued. “Mario was bound to be picked off anyway if that’s what this is about.”
The need to give in to him was so crippling my shoulders curled in from it. “It’s about us putting our families first, our self-preservation and our survival, instead of this thing between us.”
“Don’t you know, Cleo? I survive offyou.”
He headed past me to the bar, leaving me standing there speechless. Over my shoulder, I watched the muscles in his back flex under his suit jacket. I found myself wanting to spin him around and own his mouth for saying what he did, for piercing my heart again and again. How could a man so ruthless, who took so many lives, say things like that to me?
How could I resist him?
I righted my footing and met him at the bar where Dante, Cade, and Bastian sat. A woman dressed in a sort of diamond, angel-wing suit breezed over and asked what we wanted.
Rome ordered a drink for me and a water for himself.
“I’m not drinking tonight,” I mumbled as she walked away. I hadn’t drunk at all since I’d been with the bratva. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t trust them for one second. I couldn’t risk being buzzed when more than one man wanted to kill me.
Rome ignored my comment and put his hand at the back of my bar stool. Instantly, I felt the heat of it and glared at him.
“How long do you think a partnership like this can last?” Bastian threw the question out there for any of us to answer as he stared off toward the bartender.