“Yeah. But I’ll go deal with it.”
“Is it Rome?”
I shake my head. “No. This is something different entirely.” I scoff. “It’s not like I don’t have enough shit to deal with.”
Nicoli shrugs. “That’s the thing about shit. It rarely comes in bits and pieces.”
“Oh, my fucking God.” I blink, unamused.
“Yeah.” He winces. “Not my best joke.”
“Listen,” I turn to face him, “keep an eye out around here while I’m gone.”
“You sure I can’t help?”
“I got this.” I slip on my coat as I stomp out the door, righting my tie and squaring my shoulders. I’m just hoping that whatever new development there is to this potential problem is something Maximo and I can get sorted out as quickly and as discreetly as possible. For this thing to blow wide open is the last thing we need.
It’s the last thing Leandra needs.
ChapterNine
LEANDRA
Ican still feel him everywhere as I rush to my room. When he had me locked up, all I wanted to do was get out. Now, all I want to do is go back in, stay there and hide. How ironic. Maybe that’s his plan. Get me to lock myself up, so he’s not the bad guy.
God, he’s so infuriating, and everything he does is calculated and planned, manipulating everyone around him to move in a sequence he determines without anyone even realizing it.
Dictator. Asshole.
Or maybe I’m just full of shit and paranoid as fuck because my husband bred me like I’m some goddamn animal, got me pregnant and locked me in my room. It’s so insane. I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around it. Only the occasional nausea and tender breasts manage to nail down the reality of it.
Now, the ache between my legs reminds me just how fucked up everything is. My husband deceived and lied to me, yet I can’t resist being branded by his touch, my twisted desire outwitting my broken heart. The lines have become so blurred that I no longer know where the lines are. I don’t even know if there have ever been any lines when it comes to Alexius and me. I don’t think so. Maybe that’s why all this happened. We were doomed from the start because people can’t just pretend that there are no limits, no lines that need to be drawn. You can’t just unravel and expect there to be no consequences.
This is our consequence. It’s both obsession and misery.
I wipe my tears with my sleeve while trying to keep the torn fabric of my shirt in place above my shoulder. Alexius didn’t think twice before tearing at my clothes, and I didn’t think twice about not stopping him.
I should have stopped him.
Should have. Could have. Didn’t.
I’m such a fool. One touch, and he broke through my armor. One kiss, and I was done for. All the anger and pain in the world can course through my veins, and it would still not be strong enough to fight the pull between us. He was right when he said what we share can burn cities. But I’m afraid it’ll destroy us first. Alexius is a powerful, enigmatic, confident man, which makes him a dangerous one, too—especially to me, a woman with his name engraved into her broken heart. A woman who, after all he’s done, still feels connected to him in a way that seems almost supernatural. Surreal. I don’t just love him. I breathe him as if I exist solely for him.
It’s killing me.
I storm into my bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I know Maximo is out there in the hall. He’s been following me, guarding me, and he’s not being discreet about it, either. He doesn’t care what I think or what others think. All he cares about is doing what Alexius tells him to do, just like everyone else around here.
I’m a sobbing mess when I reach the shower and turn on the faucet. I don’t wait for the water to warm up before slipping underneath it, soaking my clothes. The cold water is like a thousand needles piercing my skin, but I need it, hoping it will drown out everything I’m feeling.
Heartache.
Regret.
Shame.
I should have fought harder. I should have resisted and not given in to the longing that’s been tearing me open from the inside out. I should have been stronger, proving that he can’t control me like he does everyone else around here. He doesn’t have the right to. The last thing I want is to give him more power than he already has. But I gave him the confidence he needs to continue his display of control over me by giving in to my need for him. It doesn’t matter what he’s done. He’s still the man my body yearns for, even if he is the husband who broke my heart.
Water soaks me, running from my scalp to the ends of my hair, and I imagine him sitting in his dad’s leather chair with a smug grin on his face, smoking a cigar and drinking his expensive whiskey, gloating over his captive wife who couldn’t resist him and his cock. It’s a sickening thought. He admitted not regretting what he’s done, bluntly saying he’d do it again. There’s no remorse when I stare into his iridescent eyes, no apology in the way he looks at me. And letting him fuck me just proved to him that he could do to me whatever the hell he wants, and I’ll still spread my legs for him. No matter how broken I am, I’d still be his filthy little slut.