Page 87 of Resisting Royal

I turned, my eyes meeting his for the briefest of seconds as I let the tears stream down my face. “I wasn’t finished.” He licked his lips and nodded, gesturing for me to proceed. “You both thought you could trade me around and I would be okay with it all. But neither of you asked me how I felt about it.”

“I didn’t think that—”

“That’s the thing, neither of you thought. You saw what you wanted, and you took it. Just like you do everything else. I hated you for forcing it on me. Then I hated myself because as much as I despised you and everything you stood for, I was falling for you, too.” I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Do you want to know why I didn’t believe you when you said you were innocent? I wanted to, a part of me deep down really wanted to, Royal, but how could I believe you wouldn’t do something so deceitful when the entire relationship was built on such a rocky, underhanded foundation?”

“I’ll admit, it stung that you would even entertain the thought of me harming your family. But, that sting was nothing compared to the agony of the nights and days without you, Bianca. It’s true and much regrettable that our relationship started with you being passed around like an object, but you have to know that you are so much more to me than that. You are my life, my world, and you deserve more than what I had given you. But, I promise, I want to change that. I will change.”

God, I wanted to believe him, I wanted to believe every word that fell from his lips because at this moment, I just wanted him back. I just wanted to forget all the little and big reasons we let wedge between us and concentrate on all the tiny details that bound us to begin with, all the details that weren’t built on lies and bargains but built because of us. Our banters. Our laughs. Our moments.

A sigh of resignation left me. “I don’t really hate you, Royal. I did, I really did. But now, I couldn’t hate you, even when I want to so damn bad.”

He pulled my hand from my lap, entwining our fingers together. “I hoped you didn’t.”

“But, I’m still mad,” I clarified.

He snorted, a sound so out of character for the well-tailored man I knew. “I wouldn’t expect any less from you.” He raised my fingers to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “Come home?”

Home. The allure of the word sounded so appealing, and I longed to be under the thick comforter of our bed, my legs tangled with his. “It’s not as simple as you make it seem.”

He cleared his throat as he squeezed my fingers. “I found out who did this.”

“I know,” I croaked. The article in the paper hit two days ago, along with the guilt for falsely accusing my husband of an act that I knew deep down, he didn’t do. Mario Alfonsi shot in the head after losing two fingers, then burned beyond recognition; it was a story you didn’t easily forget. The papers raised so many questions on what this murder meant for the city. Who did it? Why? Was this the beginning of another wave of criminal activity? But I knew only one man capable of such brutality.

“It’s going to be the last time, I told you, I vow to change,” he stated, and with the words, I swore his shoulders stood up straighter and his posture changed.

“What will be the last time?” I finally braved a glance at him, missing those beautiful dark eyes I’d avoided all evening, holding his stare.

“Death. Dealing with illegal loans and collections. Violence, well mostly. I still want to run the ring. At one time, all of it was the most important thing in my life. Getting whatever I wanted, just because I could, was my obsession. I gained people, possessions, objects, places—but the most important thing I gained was you. None of them made me even remotely happy, until I had you. You are my obsession, Bianca. I’m obsessed with watching you. Smelling you. Holding you. Loving you. But I can’t continue living a life I no longer love when that life only hinders the only thing I truly do love. You. I don’t want to lose you.”

I took a deep breath. Then another. After my third gasp of air, I finally responded, “You’re giving up what you love, for me?”

“No, I’m tossing aside the worst of me, because of the better.” He brought our interlocked hands up to his mouth and kissed the back of my hand.

I wanted to swoon at the sweet words that fell from the rough man sitting next to me, but swooning would be inappropriate at a time and place like this. I bit my lip, thinking of all the things I could say to him, all the troubles we still had between us that remained unspoken. The promises we had yet to make and nothing seemed important at this moment. No words sufficient to heal my wounds or make me feel whole again, only the three simple words he spoke to the universe, seemed to be all that mattered.

I placed my head back against his bicep. “Say it again.”

He brushed a stray hair out of my face. “Say what?” I looked up at him without words, giving him a look that I hoped relayed what I wanted to hear. He laughed a rich sound that filled the air. “Bianca Russo, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. The only girl I’ve ever known to outwit me with words and push my buttons. I. Love. You.”

“I love you, too.”As I spoke the words, I felt just how true they were. I looked at him shyly from under my lashes and watched as his chest puffed up with pleasure and satisfaction.

He let go of my fingers and reached into his pocket, the subtle smile my only indication that he found what he was looking for, then he took my hand in his again. His fingers gently stroked along mine before I felt the metal slide on my skin, past my knuckle, and into place. He met my gaze, his eyes unsure. I reached my ringed hand up, rubbing my palm against his cheek before leaning in for a quick kiss.

“I’ve never wanted something more in my entire life than I did when I wanted you to wear my ring,” he confessed as I leaned against him again.

He kissed my forehead, and my mind could hardly relate the man sitting next to me to the man who murdered and burned down buildings. But I didn’t care. I was tired of fighting myself for what I really wanted. I nuzzled my face into his sleeve. “Take me home, Royal.”

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