Page 19 of The Devil's Pawn

“For three months,” she retorts, the glint in her eyes shining bright, reminding me of my darkness.

“However long you want.”

“I won’t be staying past three months.”

“Great.” My lips turn up. “You’re probably annoying, anyway.”

“Only after midnight.” She breathes out an easy laugh.

“Remind me to stay the hell away once the clock strikes twelve.” A genuine chuckle breaks from my chest.

I don’t remember the last time I laughed or smiled this much with a woman. Sure, I’ve done it out of politeness, but it never felt authentic. It’s different with her. It’s like we’ve been friends for a while.

Her shoulders drop with a sigh, her expression growing somber.

“Thank you. For saving me.” She gazes at me with too much emotion, her lips set to a frown. “Because that’s what you did.”

But I didn’t, I want to say.I lied.

My jaw clenches with unexplained feelings.

Is it pity? Shame? I don’t know.

She’s too beautiful to be caught in the middle of our war. Too good to become a mere pawn on our chessboard. But every war has its casualties, and she’s about to be mine.

I might not be able to love the daughter of my enemy, but I’ll treat her with every ounce of respect she deserves, which is a lot more than her father did for my family. And on those cold and lonely nights, we’ll keep each other’s bodies warm, even when our hearts are nothing but ice.

I can’t believe Carlito thought he’d ever have her. I’d move heaven and earth to keep her away from that asshole. Neither of us loves her, but I won’t be cruel. Not like he’ll be. Marrying her is simply a way to advance himself in the family. He’s nothing but a foot soldier now, but marrying the advisor’s daughter is a hell of a step up.

Too bad I just put a kink in his plans. His fiancée is about to become my wife, and I’ll do what I can to keep him as far away from her as possible. If he won’t stay away, there’s always a bullet with his name on it.

Once she learns of my plans and the lies I told to bring her here, she’ll hate me. But it’s better for her to hate me here, where I can keep her away from what would’ve been her life.

Ever since my brothers and I set our revenge for the Bianchis in motion and I saw her photos from our initial surveillance, I told Dom she was mine. There was something there beneath her beauty. Something broken and bruised. It spoke to me. Once I learned of the marriage her parents planned, I realized we were more alike than I thought. Both of us are fighting for a way out of the life we never asked for.

Everything changed when my father and brother died. My world disappeared, its color gone as though the earth had faded into darkness. The pain only grew over the years, holding steady and weighing me down.

I don’t want it. I want a life free from the ugliness in my heart. I don’t want to be known as a brutal killer, but I am what I am now. There’s no future, no happiness, for me when all I’ve ever known is vengeance. My heart is too black, my hands too bloody, to ever give a piece of myself to someone else. Who’d want it, anyway?

Love was not meant to be mine. My heart is soaked in the blood of my enemies, and nothing and no one will make it beat again.

I’ll never tell Dom that I sometimes wonder about being with someone. He, out of all of us, took the deaths the hardest. Who can blame him? Who knows what would have happened to me if I’d had to watch my father and brother die like he did?

If he hadn’t gone out looking for our dad that day, if he hadn’t stepped foot in that warehouse, he’d never have seen them get shot to death before his eyes. He was never the same. He grew cold, distant. That probably also had to do with knowing he lost Chiara, his best friend.

He has her now. Well, not exactly. She has no damn clue that the man who kidnapped her last night is her long-lost friend.

Somewhere in that messed-up heart of his, I know he still cares about her. Maybe he can be the one to move on from the past. Maybe they can have something together, something stronger than our need for revenge. And maybe if they can, I can have it too.

Or maybe I’m being an idiot.

Raquel plays with her pancakes, absently slicing off small pieces with the fork, barely eating now.

“I have some good news and bad news,” I say, hoping to bring the radiating smile back to her face.

I hate seeing women upset. That shit wrecks me. But with her, it does something worse. I don’t fucking know why, and I don’t want to know.

Her focus stills on me. “Let’s start with the bad news.”

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