Page 53 of The Marriage Contract

“Is that fair, though?” she asks.

“Fair?”

Maybe it’s the darkness in my tone, or the mafioso in me is too close to the surface. She looks down at the table, making me feel like an ass. I touch her chin and guide her gaze back to mine. “You never have to be afraid to talk to me.”

“You went so far,” she whispers. “You were … feral, savage, primal. Maybe it’s like you said. This isn’t a movie. This is real life, and in real life, it was just … I don’t know—more than shocking. I don’t know if a word exists for it.”

“I lost it,” I admit, “but when I saw him about to drag you down into that cellar, I knew nothing good was going to come from it. I knew he was going to do vicious, unforgivable things to you. It happened fast, but in the space of less than a second, my mind filled with all those sick acts he would have committed. I rarely let myself go like that, buthe deserved it.”

“He said he had family to take care of.”

“I’m sure he said lots of things.”

“He said he was disappointed he wouldn’t get to do … things to me.” She shudders. “I bet you think I’m a sucker for even caring. I bet you think it’s sad that I would even think about this longer than a day.”

“No,” I snap. “I think about every bad thing I’ve ever done all the damn time. I try not to let it weigh me down. It’s like I said. If the Morettis didn’t run this city, it’d be people like Vincenzo and his soldiers—men who would happily drag women into cellars and do unspeakable things to them. I can be sorry that you saw it, sorry that I went full berserker on him, but I’ll never be sorry for saving you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be,” she whispers, touching my hand and clutching me tightly. “Dario, can I kiss you?”

I smirk. “As if you’d ever need to ask.”

Walking around the table again, I pull her into my arms. She grabs onto my shoulders and pulls herself to me, her body grinding against mine in a way that awakens all my instincts. I groan as I find her lips, but I’m careful not to push too far, careful not to press her beyond her comfort zone.

Even as my manhood rages and my mind burns with all the lust we could share, I keep it sweet. My woman deserves that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ELENA

Back “home,” I stand at the edge of my bed and look at the suitcase I packed before we left for the date. That was thebad thingI did. I went around the townhouse collecting every valuable I could get my hands on: ornaments, silverware, and even some of Dario’s jewelry. I stare at it, wondering what to do. During the car ride home, I felt closer to him than I could’ve imagined earlier today. His kiss still lingers on my lips.

I spin quickly when there’s a knock on my door. “One second.”

“It’s me.” Dario’s voice is urgent. “Can I come in?”

“I …” I’m hiding the suitcase, but I don’t want to lie to him. He’s shown me every aspect of his existence, even the ugliness. I drop onto the bed next to the suitcase. “Sure.”

He hurries into the room, clearly about to say something. Then he stops when he sees the open suitcase glimmering with valuables. “What’s this?”

“My contingency plan,” I say. “I packed it earlier, before the date.”

“You …” He narrows his eyes. “You were going to leave me?”

Something in his tone sends me surging to my feet. I grab his arms, feeling his strength, his throbbing muscles like he’s burning up at the idea of me running away from him. “This is all an act, remember?”

“No,” he snaps, wrapping his arms around me. At the restaurant, he was respectful about kissing, but now he pulls me right up against him and crashes his mouth fiercely against mine. I gasp at the suddenness of it, and then something deep inside wills me to sink against him.

He growls through the tight press of our lips. We collapse onto the bed together, the suitcase slipping off and the clatter of jewelry sounding on the hardwood floor.

“You taste perfect,” he growls, his eyes flooded with the same intensity I saw in the farmhouse. It makes me wonder what he came in here to say. “You taste likemine.”

He kisses me again. I can’t ask him to stop. I don’t want to. Even if I did, the lust pulsing through my body wouldn’t let me. His firm chest grazes against my nipples as his hand slides up my leg. I open my legs, the physical sensation burning away the nerves, doubts, and memories for now.

When he reaches my sex, I grip onto his neck, digging my nails in. “Not yet,” I say breathlessly in a stolen moment between the kiss.

He stares down at me. “Were you going to leave me?”

“I was just being smart,” I tell him. “I didn’t know I was going to?—”

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