People often accentuated my name in that way, as if the other person didn’t know who I was.
“Marci,” he said in a low voice and a look passed between them that I wasn’t privy on.
“This is going to end badly. Very badly.”
“Tell Maddox hi from me when you return to your apartment tonight.”
Marci shook her head and turned to me with a searching look. “I assume you don’t mind if I leave?”
“I don’t,” I whispered.
She shook her head again and walked out, her high heels clicking too loud on the stone.
I didn’t move, suddenly overwhelmed.
Amo crossed the distance between us and cupped my cheeks, his lips coming down on mine without warning again. I tensed, surprised by his vehemence, heat and touch. Amo pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. His thumb brushed over my cheekbone. “I would never hurt you.”
“I know.”
He chuckled and released a deep breath.
“You can kiss me now,” I said.
Amo’s eyes locked on my lips and then he lowered his head again, letting his mouth slide very gently over mine. Electricity seemed to zag through my lips, down my chest into my belly and straight to my sex. My eyes fluttered shut against the too bright light in the kitchen. I wanted my sole focus on Amo, his mouth, his taste and smell. On how perfect his strong big hands felt against my cheeks.
Slowly Amo pulled away again but he stayed close, our breaths mingling. I searched his face for a sign that what we were doing here wasn’t wrong.
“What we’re doing here is wrong, isn’t it?” All my life I’d tried to be kind to others, but I knew my moral compass wasn’t as tuned in as it should be.
Amo smiled darkly. “Do not ask a man like me about right or wrong, Greta. The only thing I can tell you is that nothing has ever felt as right as kissing you.”
I nodded, my breath hitching, because I felt the same way. How could something that felt so right be wrong?
“I swear, Amo, if you deflower another mafia girl, I’m going to throw you off the next bridge.”
We both jumped at Marcella’s angry voice. She had spoken through the door.
Amo grimaced.
“Is that why you have to marry Cressida?”
I tried to imagine Amo being this close with someone else. I wasn’t the jealous type but felt a little nauseous thinking of having to share him.
“Do not go there,” Amo murmured.
I tilted my head curiously. “I know you’re not mine. You’re Cressida’s.”
“I’m not hers, won’t ever be. In the few moments we’ve shared I’ve already been more yours than I’ve ever been anyone else’s.”
“But you’ve been with girls on a physical level that we haven’t shared.”
Amo laughed. It was raw and bitter. “And none of it mattered.”
“What did Fabiano mean with his newspaper comment?”
I could tell that Amo didn’t want to talk about it, which piqued my curiosity even more. “I publicly touched a woman in one of our clubs, and the newspaper published it.” He continued when he looked at my face. “I did it because I thought it would make Cressida mad enough to cancel the wedding.”
It must have been a very sexual touch considering it made front page. My belly tightened uncomfortably.