Page 67 of The Fox

“I am. I am fucking terrified.”

“I have lived my life with the knowledge that I would not be able to havethis.” I feel her hands move to grip my shirt, the cotton wrinkling in her grasp. “I will not allow a weak man like Medina to dictate my happiness.”

I rest my forehead on hers and I want to kiss her badly. Her eyes flutter closed and her hands flex.

“I have to, Rhodes. I can’t keep hiding and playing this gods fucking game of fox and hare. I have to bury Medina. Ineedyou to trust me”

I know that this is an argument I will not win. Amelia has played this role for far too long to relinquish her control of the chessboard now. I sigh heavily, licking my lips before squeezing her tight, tucking her head under my chin. “Okay.”

I feel her shake her head. I know that my agreement is shocking, but I also am formulating a plan to keep the woman in my arms safe—whether she likes it or not. Amelia Conte will handle her business, and I will ensure no one stands in her way.

Pulling away from her, I place my hands under her ass, lifting her onto the counter. She’s weightless in my hold, and Amelia’s arms wrap around my shoulders. I feel her fingers weave along my scalp and she begins massaging my skull. Amelia’s nails are heaven and I could let her do this all day, but zurek is best eaten warm.

I reach around Amelia, grabbing her bowl of soup and ladle a spoonful. Her eyes sparkle with amusement as I bring the spoon to her lips, watching as she takes it into her mouth. The siren in my arms takes care to make sure the utensil is clean as it leaves her lips, that pink tongue darts to the corner of her mouth, chasing a rogue speck of the borscht. The movement is erotic.

Spooning more, I smirk at the way her body does a little happy dance. It’s the same one she has when she eats tiramisu at midnight. “Good,kochanie?” I ask.

“It’s alright,” she playfully whispers, leaning in and taking another bite. “I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll allow it?” I set the bowl down, my palms skimming her sides. “I’ll be sure to let your legions know that you approve.” Her body reminds me of those paintings of old. The ones the masters brought to life with full hips and large breasts, the women generously curved and voluptuous. Amelia Conte puts them all to shame.

She hums, a smug look settling on her face. “You do that.”

We stare at each other before bursting into laughter, the noise echoing in the otherwise quiet kitchen.

“For real though, this is really good, Rhodes. Your mama would be proud.” The sincerity in her voice nearly brings tears to my eyes. I know that Amelia would have been loved by my mama, and the same could be said the other way around as well. There is a box hidden in my gun safe that my mama told me would be given to the woman I loved one day.

Without a hint of hesitation, Amelia Conte is that woman.

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“Do you believe in fate?” Her voice is soft as the words fall onto my chest. I comb her hair from her face and look down at her. Amelia is soft right now, as she comes down from the crest of four orgasms I forced upon her body. Sleep weighs heavily in her eyes, and when she glances up at me, I see the seriousness of her question.

I lean my head back, trying to find the words to fully encompass my answer. “The universe is balanced, I think.” Her nails scrape at my skin, the pattern soothing.

“Balanced,” she murmurs, disagreement coating the word.

I continue, struggling to answer what should be a simple question. “I lost my faith in something—someone—bigger than me when I lost Chris. My world crumbled, and when no one could give me a reason why the darkness only deepened? I cannot fathom our existence being reduced to a collection of marionettes, blindly stumbling, while an all-knowing entity maneuvers our strings.”

She shifts, sitting up on her elbow and brings her palm to my face. Her eyes roam, mapping my emotions. “The idea of a singular claiming dominion over this vastness—over this woven tapestry of life, is something I’ve never understood.”

“But,” I say, tracing her skin, “I will never understand how I was gifted you. I must have pleased the gods or the universe somehow.” I bring my nose to hers, my lips ghosting hers. “What about you,kochanie?” I watch her inhale deeply, the movement shifting the sheet along her body. “Do you hold on to a god?”

She’s quiet, pensive for a moment. “If there were a god, then why would they allow the breaking of my soul? The violation of my supposed temple?” Her head tilts, fire in her eyes. “If there is some benevolent being, then there shouldn’t be so much hurt in my heart.” The fire dies, squelched by the tears now lining her eyes.

I wipe the single tear running down her cheek, wishing I could have loved her sooner. “Fate and gods are two different ideas, baby.”

Her brow furrows. “I don’t think they are.” Amelia shakes her head, moistening her lips. “Not really. People just want the ability to blame their transgressions on another person. They don’t want to own their actions, to face the consequence of choice. I want to tell you that it was fate which brought me to you, I do.”

I lick my lips, wishing for the words to come that I could use to make her feel better. What do I say to a woman who has suffered at the hands of men? Amelia sighs, continuing to fill the silence.

“But, I know that every decision I made up to this point is one that led me to you. Each bloodstained smile I’ve crafted, every scream echoed into the void. I own it all, and despite the darkness claiming my soul, I wouldn’t change any of it.

CHAPTER 45

Amelia---Ask and You Shall Recieve

I feel him before I see him.

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