He goes still and I do too, my gaze never straying from his. I want him to know I’m not scared. He can tell me anything and I won’t run.
“Whatever it is, I’m not leaving. You won’t lose me. I’m not afraid. Not of you,” I say when he still hasn’t spoken. “Please, Spence.”
“Syl—”
“Don’t give me an excuse. Tell me, Spencer. I need to know. I deserve to know.”
Leaning in, he presses his forehead to mine, blowing out a harsh breath. “It’s a lot.”
“I have witnessed so many things over the years, had so much happen to me, I can handle it. I’m not afraid.” I swallow hard. “Tell me.”
“Right now? Don’t we have better things to do?” He thrusts upward, gripping my hips and keeping me in place as he slowly fucks me. “We can talk about this later.”
“You always say that, and it’s never later. I hate that you won’t talk to me about this. It’s like you’re keeping this from me on purpose.”
“I am,” he says without hesitation. “There are some things better left unsaid.”
Irritation fills me. “If you won’t tell me, I don’t know if I want to marry you—”
He clamps his hand over my mouth, silencing me. His cheeks are red, his eyes blazing with barely-contained anger. “No. You don’t get to play that game. You love me, I love you. We’re getting married.”
I stare at him, shocked by his ferocity. I don’t bother speaking since his hand is still covering my face.
“Besides, it’s too late. You can’t back out now.” He slowly lowers his hand from my face, his mouth brushing against mine. “You’re mine. Forever.”
He kisses me, his body moving in mine, trying to make me forget, but his words are on repeat in my head.
You’re mine. Forever.
They make me feel safe, but they also leave me a little…
Scared.
THIRTY-TWO
SPENCER
I entermy father’s office and settle into the chair across from his desk, quiet while he’s on the phone. I pull mine out of my pocket to check if I have any messages, but there are none.
Impatient, I shove my phone away, stewing as I listen to my father smooth talk some sucker into giving him money. Extorting another small business owner to smuggle drugs—the life of a mobster.
We’re on the fringe, linked to one of the most powerful mafia families in the country, if not the world. We’re protected by them, unless we cross them in any way.
If that ever happens, we’re dead. My father first, me next.
I used to be the heavy. The one who would meet with those who owed us money, who stole drugs from the shipment and sold them on their own. The squirrely ones, the sneaky ones. The men who would piss their pants when we showed up, threatening their lives, their family’s lives.
I hated it. Only did that for little over a year before I went to my father and demanded to do something else. I couldn’t take it anymore. I’m smart, I’m good with numbers, so I started cooking the books next. We have an accountant team and even a CFO, but I’ve got an entire set of books and countless spreadsheets that sing a different tune. Siphoning money here and there, so we don’t have to pay taxes, so we can put that money into our pockets, and our employees’ pockets too.
What we do is illegal. I’m putting myself on the line every day I go into the office, but what can I do? This is my world, and it always has been.
There are some advantages to this lifestyle though, and I take advantage of them whenever I can.
Like now.
The moment my father ends his call, I’m talking.
“Did you find out any of the information I asked for?” I lift my brows, waiting for his answer.