Page 76 of The Mob Boss' Pet

“No.” I put my hands out. “Don’t.” I lean away. “You can’t just pop in here a month later and say things like that.”

He drops his hands. “I have no right to be here. But I’m here. And I should have been here weeks ago.” He shoves a hand through his perfectly placed hair, messing it up. “I never should have put you in that fucking car.”

They’re all the right words.

“But you did,” I say softly, lowering my gaze. Nothing he says now changes that. The pain as my heart shattered with his easy dismissal doesn’t vanish, and his harsh words don’t erase from my memory because he realizes it was wrong.

“Yeah. I did.” His shoulders slump. “Stephania,” his voice lowers, “I’m not a good man, but you make me want to be better. You bring a light into my darkness.” His gaze, full of indecision and uncertainty, meets mine. “And I want more. I want it all.”

“What does that mean? I’ll be your little pet when you feel the need, and you’ll crate me when you’re too busy?” My throat closes. What if that’s really what he wants? Just a plaything?

“No.” He shakes his head. “You’ll be my wife. My pet. My everything.” He reaches for me again; this time I don’t stop him.

He frames my face with his hands. “I want everything with you, every day, forever.”

“You said—”

“Forget what I said. It was the one lie I’ve ever told you. And it will be the last,” he vows.

Tears build in my eyes. I’m not strong enough against him. Not when he’s being so open, when he’s let his walls crumble. He’s not a good man.

But he’s my man.

“You want to marry me?” I ask softly. A tear rolls down my chin. All the ache from the past month rises in my chest. It’s not pain for what I lost, but anticipation for what I can have.

“Yes,” he says. “I want everything with you, Stephania.” His raw voice unleashes any restraint I still held.

“I want that, too,” I whisper. And in the next beat, he kisses me. A harsh, dominating, possessive kiss that draws me up to my toes. I wrap my arms around his waist and melt into him.

He breaks the kiss, pulling back with that same arrogant smile.

“You’ll be my wife?” he asks, but it doesn’t sound anything like a question. It never does with Vincenzo.

“Yes, Vincenzo,” I say with a watery smile. Dragging my hands across my cheeks, I wipe away the runaway tears.

From his pocket he pulls out the pink collar I’d worn. His collar.

“And you’ll be my pet,” he states. There’s no room for discussion on this topic. And I love it.

I love him.

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