Page 27 of The Forbidden Husband

I clung to each word as she detailed Anton’s grief after losing his friend, and at the end, she said that he was not interested in initiating a conflict. As far as they were concerned, they got the necessary revenge with Uncle Mauro’s death. She said that the only person he wanted to see dead was our father, and then she explained why in a brief summary of what had happened during their last encounter.

I reread the words twice.

I hadn’t known any of that. I had feared that Anton had learned her identity and taken her. I didn’t know that he had been protecting her.

“She’s safe,” I finally said. “And my father has been lying to everyone about the Russians to fuel our distrust in them.”

“What do you think about that?”

I think Dad has always been a hateful, lying, deceiving, backstabbing piece of shit. I think he will get what’s coming to him, and I won’t feel the slightest bit of remorse. He lies to cause chaos and distrust among our people, and he always manages to come out as the savior and the good guy when he’s the opposite.

I think he’s been sewing distrust between our people and everyone else who could one day take his power.

“I’m happy she’s safe,” I responded tersely.

He blinked, likely expecting me to say more.

“That’s all?” he pushed.

“I would rather talk to my husband about things that matter. You will never trust my sister because she decided to stay with Anton Petrov, and you’ll always hate my father because… well, probably because he’s an asshole and a heartless leader who deserves hatred. Regardless, I’m with you now, and I’d rather not dwell on our past when it will do nothing but separate us.”

Enzo leaned back and crossed his arms, and I wanted to scream when he showed nothing but cool indifference in his eyes. I clearly wasn’t getting through to him, and I doubted I would this evening. Not after the way we started.

I was beginning to think that no amount of pretending and scheming would get me what I wanted. What was the point in trying when he wouldn’t let me in?

“You know what,” I said, standing and shaking my head. “Thank you for the view and for paying Jaimie for me. But I would rather not stay in brooding company for my evening. If you’ll excuse me.”

I made it four steps before his hand wrapped around the crook of my arm. I stopped, but I didn’t bother looking at him.

“Stay,” he declared.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

I didn’t know what to expect, but his deep chuckle rumbled down my spine. “You want to talk about things that matter? Stay and tell me about yourself.”

I finally turned into him, and my chest brushed against him as I threw my shoulders back with a false bravado that I didn’t feel. “You want to know more about me?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

The breeze blew his scent toward me. One of leather and something earthy. Something masculine and deep. Rich. Even though his house swam with diluted versions of that smell, I couldn't put my finger on the exact cologne. I wasn’t even sure if it was a cologne, but it should be. It was too intoxicating to belong only to him.

I forced myself not to breathe in the scent again as I placed both hands on my hips.

“What do you want to know?”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m just a measly mafia princess, don’t you remember?” I shot back.

His smirk turned into a frown. “I don’t think you’d survive being cooped up in a house without a purpose.”

He was right. The prospect of being locked away for my entire life had always terrified me more than anything else. I wondered if he could read that or if he was guessing. “I studied law at Colombia.”

His eyes widened just enough to show his surprise. “You passed?”

I huffed a laugh. “I graduated top of my class. Photographic memory, remember?”

I tapped the crown of my head for emphasis.

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