Page 63 of Filthy Little Games

Which is ridiculous and doesn’t make any sense. I barely know her. We haven’t even been married a week.

Every night I go to bed still horny as hell for Zara after eating her out over and over again with no relief for myself, and I find her sound asleep.

That’s how I know it’s official – I’m a fucking idiot.

I should’ve taken her up on her offer to come to bed with her. I could’ve had her amazing ass against my lap all night without thrusting inside her. Probably. But I haven’t tried to do so yet. I let her sleep and I stay on my side of the bed.

Something is holding me back from taking her.

I have to let Zara go soon, and I already fucking miss her.

There’s no reason to make it even worse by giving in and doing everything that I want to do to her and have to live with only the memories for the rest of my life.

I need to focus on making sure Emilio doesn’t find out I killed Izaiah, determine if he was involved in having Carmine killed, and get Zara her daughter back all without it blowing back on me or my family.

I don’t trust private investigators who aren’t part of the family enough to pull them into tracking Rovina or finding where he’s keeping Oriana, so I’m just going to have to do it myself.

And as for my men who all want to be doing something for Carmine, well, I guess it’s time to ask for backup. I’ll have them keep an eye on the other families. Otherwise, they’ll start getting suspicious about why I’m not doing more to find out who is responsible for killing my brother and Jasper.

I want to find and punish every single person responsible for my brother’s death. I owe that to him.

But I also hate the reminder that Zara is one of those individuals.

Even though we’re married and she’s now my wife, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to forgive her or fully trust her.

“How is your leg?” Zara asks during breakfast after I watched her barely pick at the fruit on her plate and fidget with the hem of my white tee for half an hour.

“Healing.”

She nods. “That’s good,” she replies while pushing a loose curl behind her ear.

“What’s up, Zara?” I say, since she obviously wants to say more.

She lifts her eyes to mine. “I know I’m a pain in your ass, but could I ask you for a favor?”

“Of course.” I sip my glass of orange juice. “And you’re not a pain in my ass.” I assume she’s going to ask me if I could help her get custody of her daughter.

Instead, she says, “Tonight…it’s Thursday.”

“Okay?”

“Thursday is when Eugene, the armed robber, comes to the store.”

“Oh. Right,” I reply in understanding. “You don’t want him to show up and fake rob your replacement?”

“No. I don’t want him to get arrested, and I don’t want him and his sisters to go without food for a week either.”

The woman’s heart is bigger than the entire state, and despite all the reasons why I shouldn’t, I still wish I could own a little piece of it someday.

“I’ll handle it,” I promise her.

“You’ll go meet him? Between nine and ten tonight?”

“Yes. I’ll meet him in the alley before he pulls out his gun and give him enough money to get by for the week.”

“Thank you.” She smiles. “Despite how it looks, he really is a good kid doing the best he can for those he loves.”

“I get it,” I tell her. She’d do anything for her daughter and respects the kid for helping his younger siblings. I don’t blame her. In fact, he’s the type of man I wouldn’t mind having in our family.

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