Page 19 of The Marriage Contract

“Yes,” Dario says. “No apology needed. I need to go. See you this evening, Elena.”

“See you later,” I murmur.

Clara steps aside as he leaves, then moves toward the table without looking at me. I spot her eyeing up some dish I couldn’t even guess its name.

“Are you hungry, Clara?” I ask.

“Uh … no, miss.”

“Hey, look at me.” She does, seeming nervous. “You can tell the truth.”

“It’s not my place …”

“It’s better than wasting this food. Let’s eat breakfast together. I’ve worked up an appetite.”

I’m smiling like an idiot, like a girl who doesn’t understand her situation, but Idounderstand. That’s the thing. I know he’s a criminal. I know, logically, I shouldn’t let myself want him, butthatkissing was way more than acting.

As Clara and I eat, I try to remember how dark he looked when he said he was going to do bad things today. I try to imagine what they are, but picturing Dario doing anything morally wrong feels difficult after what we just shared.

Just business …

However, that didn’t feel like a transaction.

CHAPTER EIGHT

DARIO

Isit in the shadows in the storage room of the bar. Beneath a naked lightbulb, a Romano soldier is tied to a chair, blood running from his nose and leaking from his scalp, dripping down his cheeks like tears. In my mind, I wonder what Elena would say if she could see me now. I know she’d hate it. I know she’d be disgusted. No civilian is ever prepared for what mafiosi life is really like.

“Are you trying to tell us that the vandalism of the charity is completely unrelated to my meeting with your boss?” I ask.

The man shudders, his lips trembling. “I don’t know nothing.”

I sigh, gesturing at Allessio. He slaps the man across the face so hard that the chair falls to the floor. Paolo quickly rights it, and then Allessio hits him again.

“Nobody is getting any enjoyment out of this. You’re well known to us as a lead soldier in this area. You’re wasting our time by keeping your mouth shut. It’s just going to cause you more pain.”

Again, I feel Elena watching me in the back of my head. It makes me feel too damn vulnerable. When I said we should kiss forpractice, part of me meant it. Though part of me just wanted to taste her sassy lips, wanted to feel the curves of her body. I got carried away big time. My dick still aches every time I think about it.

Is this what genuinely wanting somebody is like? It’s distracting. I need to focus on the Mafia business.

“You think I can tell you anything?” the man grumbles.

“I think you’re making a mistake if you’re more afraid of Vincenzo than me.”

I stand up, walk over to the man, and kneel down, staring into his eyes. Usually, during exchanges like this, I can separate any soft feelings. I don’t have many, but I can quickly bash the ones that arise. However, with Elena’s phantom watching me, her taste still on my lips, dammit, it’s not easy.

I lean forward, glaring at the man. “You’ve got two options. Tell us what we want to know, and we’ll keep you as a prisoner until this shit is over. After that, we’ll exile you from the city. If you keep your mouth shut, we’ll beat you unconscious. When you wake up, you’ll be inside a coffin. Do you know how long a man can survive in a coffin?”

He’s trembling all over now. I’m finding it difficult to be as cold as I should be. I don’t let it show, and I won’t let it affect my behavior, but it’s annoying. I refuse to believe that Elena is changing me or bringing out parts of me I’ve buried all my life. That can’t be the case.

“It depends on how much the man panics,” I go on, “but I’ve heard accounts claiming the person survived as long as five hours. I’m not sure if that’s true, but for the sake of argument,let’s assume it is. Are you ready to endure five hours of hell before you die, all for a man who doesn’t give a shit about you?”

“Would your men endure it?” the man replies.

I grit my teeth. It’s a fair point. “That’s not the goddamn question.”

There’s a long pause. The man sniffles, mixing tears with rivulets of blood. I feel pity for the bastard when I shouldn’t. I have to remind myself what they did. If they’d hit the charity just an hour later, several people would’ve died.

---