Page 73 of Not Mine to Keep

When she’d yet to give me her eyes, I reached for her elbow. “At our birthday party that we invite him and Marcello to. We’ll frame Rocco and his father—revenge for choosing me over him to wed.”

Refusing to meet my eyes while taking shallow breaths weren’t the best signs. “How will you kill him, though?” The break in her tone had me letting go of her elbow, and I stepped back.

“Look at me,” I demanded roughly, but if this plan was about to go to hell in a handbasket, as my mother liked to say, I needed to do damage control, and fast.

Marriage. Murder. Revenge. Divorce. That’d been the plan. Was she changing it on me?

“The man had a doctor check your fertility. He’s trying to force you to fuck me so you can give him a kid, a child he wants to raise to become a killer.” She had to remember the details, to commit the gritty, dark truth about the bastard to memory before she changed her mind. “Where’s this coming from? Why do you care how he dies as long as he ends up six feet under?”

She sidestepped me and sat on the pull-out bed. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I just ...” Those light-green eyes finally landed on me, and I nearly regretted demanding her attention, because that sad expression was a painful sight. “Talking about it happening at the end of the summer felt like forever away, and this feels real now.” She tugged her lip between her teeth, appearing contemplative when there shouldn’t havebeen anything to think about. “What if having a hand in his murder makes me as bad as him? What if he wins anyway because I let the darkness out he wants unleashed?” Tears pricked her eyes, and they poked a hole in my chest.

Unable to stop myself, I sat by her and held her hand. The diamond had spun around and dug into my palm. “Don’t do this. You’re not him, and you never will be.” Feeling a bit panicked myself, because if she changed her mind I had no damn idea what to do, I brought our linked palms between us and turned toward her. “We’re in this together. Okay?”

She stared at our united hands, blinking a few times. Uncertainty still clung to her soft gaze when it returned to my face. “Non c’è luce senza oscurità.”

Squeezing her hand a bit harder at the sight of tears now slipping down her cheeks, I leaned closer and set my forehead to hers. “You’re the light in this scenario, okay?” I murmured. “And you need to let me be the dark. I can handle it, I promise.”I already am it.“You’re just tired. I should’ve waited to tell you this until after you slept,” I added when she’d yet to speak, and her silence was brutal.

“Maybe you’re right.” Her determined voice was what I needed to hear, and I pulled away to check her face, see if some color had returned.

Realizing I was still holding her hand to the point her ring was now leaving an imprint inside my palm, I let her go, and she swiped at her cheeks with the backs of her hands.

“Tell me the truth about Rocco.”

Since I’d already opened my mouth tonight, it was time to go ahead and rip the Band-Aid off, I supposed. Maybe this would help ease her concerns about the plan, too? But I’d need to stand for this and keep my back to her. “After my brothers and I were arrested for killing our sister’s killer—which we got wrong back then but didn’t know it ... and don’t worry, the person responsible is now dead—well, my dad negotiated a get-out-of-jail-free card for us.”

Her hand was at my back, which meant she’d joined me on her feet. She was careful with how she touched me. Gentle. Comforting. As if letting me know she had my back. That wasn’t something I’d allowed a woman outside my family to have before.

“Go on,” she prompted when I’d become tripped up.

“The deal was charges would be dropped and no prison time if my brothers and I worked for the government. Three veterans killing a killer—the Feds didn’t really want us in jail, either. So they arranged to have us do off-the-books, clandestine stuff. Not exactly reporting to the CIA, but kind of ... But four years ago, we were sent after a high-value target, Claudio Barone. The intel must’ve been bad because the plan went sideways, and Rocco captured Constantine. He had him for ten days. Slowly tortured him. The kind of torture you need trigger warnings for before watching a movie. Only this was ... real.” Fuck, now I was going to be sick. I still had no clue how I’d faced off with that animal in Rome and hadn’t killed him.

Who was I kidding? When she urged me to face her, I knew why: taking out Rocco would’ve jeopardized the woman before me.

Her palms landed on my cheeks, and I quickly held her wrists but didn’t shove her hands away. “I was working on a rescue, but a sniper had me in his sights on overwatch, and apparently, Gabriel also had me in his sights, because he took out Rocco’s man on the long gun, saving my life.”

“Gabriel saved you,” she whispered, surprise in her eyes. “Why? How’d he know? Armani wasn’t working with Rocco then, was he?”

I slowly lowered her hands from my face, finding myself a little short of breath, walking down memory lane. Holding her wrists still, but down at our sides, I shared, “Gabriel heard my brother had been taken by the Barones. He didn’t have Armani’s blessing, nor did Armani know his plan, but according to Gabriel, he went there to help save Constantine.”

“This is why you owe him a favor. The reason you’re helping me is all because of what happened four years ago.” She studied me for a longmoment, and I wasn’t sure where her head was at right now, but she didn’t make me wait long to find out. “Does everything really happen for a reason? If Armani hadn’t chosen Rocco to marry me, would you not have helped? Maybe Gabriel would never have gone to you in the first place.”

I let go of her wrists and slid my hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head. “I don’t know if Gabriel would’ve come to me if Rocco wasn’t involved, but regardless of the man your father chose, I would’ve said yes to helping you.”

Her eyes locked with mine. “Why?”

“Because I met you,” I admitted hoarsely. “And Gabriel knew I’d never be able to walk away from you after that.”

“But you will be walking away,” she reminded me, a single tear breaking free as she pulled away her hand. “Right after our birthday party, you’ll walk away.” She removed the diamond, which had me oddly feeling as if I’d been punched, then she gave me her back. “Do you still work for the government?”

“No. We were given our freedom. Everything we do now is because we want to. No red tape, either.” Doing my best to shake off the fact I felt like I’d been through the emotional wringer my therapist had tried to put me through in the past without much luck—and this woman in the space of a heartbeat had managed to do it—I finished the job of unbuttoning my shirt and tossed it on the pull-out bed.

“You help people because you can, not because you have to.” She faced me again, eyes landing on my naked chest. “You’re not the dark in this scenario, Alessandro.” Slowly, she worked her attention to my face. “You’re the light.”

I closed the space between us. Hands tight at my sides so I didn’t touch her, I rasped, “No, I am. You need to remember that, too. And remember I will walk away from you when this is over, because I amthatguy. I can’t be anyone else.” It took all my strength, all my energy, to spew those words—words that didn’t want to come out, but I had to hammer in the point. “I’m not the hero in the story.” My palm wentflat over my heart. “I’m the man who’d go scorched-earth on the world to save his family. A hero would put their country first.”

What in the hell was on her mind? Why wasn’t she backing away? Running?

“At the end of the day, I’m a killer,” I said, reiterating my point, worried she’d yet to receive it with her peering at me as if she’d be okay if I sacrificed the world for her. “You’re a schoolteacher. A musician. A woman with a good heart.” I stabbed the air. “You’re not a DiMaggio. You’re not like us. Like me.” Breathing hard, worried I was on the verge of snapping and gathering her in my arms to feel her light wash over me, to experience what it felt like just to have a taste of her sweetness, I sidestepped her to get to the bathroom, needing the conversation over with.

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