Page 147 of The Devil's Deal

“You’re making it so difficult to keep my promise of going slow.” I fist her hair, gripping it tight, peppering kisses down her neck.

“I can’t wait to be with you, Dom.” Her words stumble with a whimper. “My Dom.”

“Fuck, baby. Say that again.” I continue to devour her skin, her hips running circles over me.

“Say what?” she teases.

I pull her face close to mine, caught in her sultry gaze, and as she looks at me that way, I’m left wondering if she sees me as a monster for all the lives I’ve taken and all the lives I still have left to take. And though I don’t want to hear the truth, terrified of it, I ask anyway.

“You know I’ll have to kill them all, right?”

The question hangs in the air between us as she peers down at me.

“I do.”

“Do you hate what I’ve become? A killer? Can you really handle who I am now, Chiara? It’s okay if you can’t.”

That’s a fucking lie. I won’t be okay.

Her brows draw tight, her knuckles caressing my cheek. “I could never hate you, especially for that.”

Relief hits me, and I clench my jaw to steady my emotions.

“I loved your family with all my heart,” she confesses. “And knowing what my family did to Matteo...” Her eyes go dark, even as the tears drown them. “You dowhateverneeds to be done. And you make sure it hurts.”

My eyes slam shut, grateful she gets it. We’ll be hitting them again very soon. My men are working out the details.

“I love you, Chiara. More than anything in this world.”

“I love you too, Dom,” she breathes out. “I always have.”

A sense of peace overcomes me.

Finally, I have her, not only as the love of my life, but a true partner in my plan for revenge. My plan that’s only just beginning.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chiara

Three Days Later

“How the helldo you not know how to cook?” he asks as he takes out a pan, placing it on the stove.

“I don’t know.” I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes. “I just don’t. Deal with it.”

“How have you managed to survive on your own?” he teases, unscrewing a bottle of olive oil, adding a little to the now sizzling pan.

He throws in some minced garlic and ginger, the wooden spoon in his hand as he mixes.

“Takeout. Duh.” I roll my eyes. “Sorry we don’t all have a Sonia in our back pocket.”

He chuckles. “Idocook. As you can see, she’s off today.” He winks.

“Oh, my. Your personal chef is off? Poor little you.”

“Well, she’s your chef now too, considering you live here.”

I did basically move in. He purchased me a whole new wardrobe, a new car, and everything else I might ever need.

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