Page 69 of Desire and Revenge

She huffs in disbelief. “You thick headed idiot!I’m not asking you to!”

“Then what exactly are you asking me now? And why now of all times? Four days ago, I asked you to come with me, to choose me?—”

“I did choose you!” Sofia throws up her hands in the air. “I chose you from the first moment I scrubbed my skin of my husband’s touch and ran down to that greenhouse to wait for you. I chose you when I continued to wait for you there for days even after I lost hope. I’ve chosen you every day since then. But you expected me to just decide on a whim to put my family at risk, and I couldn’t do that.”

Her chest is heaving, and her eyes are narrowed in anger, and the only thing I can think of is kissing her. I want to plunder that mouth and make it soft and pliable under mine. I want to show her with words I can’t say that I’m tumbling into uncharted waters right along with her.

“And if I don’t win today?” I ask slowly, carefully. “Are you saying that you will watch your entire life go down the drain and still love me? We will be fugitives. Is that what you want?”

“I just want you, Nero.” Her voice breaks. “I don’t even care about my lifelong dreams, or anything I have here. No, that’s wrong. I have nothing here. Yeah, I know, it’s pathetic, but it’s the truth. I want you, anyway I can get you. That’s what it means to love someone.”

I scoff. “And how would you know that? You’re not exactly a glowing study on love.”

She flinches and I immediately wish I could take the words back. The hope in her eyes fizzles away until there’s nothing left but sorrow, that familiar, weighty sorrow I saw her in her eyes the first night at the greenhouse. And suddenly I realize I’ve taken it too far and become like every other man I’ve been trying to protect her from.

“You’re right, I’m not.” She tries to smile but it’s brittle at best. “And you’re also right that I should leave.”

“Sofia.” Her name is dragged out of my throat, a plea, a prayer, and a demand all at once.

Ignoring me, she turns sharply on her knees, shoulders hunched up to almost her ears. I did that. I’m no better than her asshole husband.

I realize at that moment that I never want to put that look on her face ever again. I never want to watch the light leave her eyes, and I never want to look at her and read heartbreak in her body language.

I reach for her before her hand can close around the doorknob, roughly spinning her around. She lets out a surprised squeal as I push her up against the door, and I swallow the sound, as greedy for it as I am for the rest of her.

“I’m going to fix it,” I whisper into her mouth. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to fix everything.”

And she kisses me back like she’s drowning and I’m her lifeline.

CHAPTER 22

Sofia

Icome awake with a groan, my head feeling like someone took a hammer to it. When I try to raise my head off my pillow, white lights burst behind my eyes and I fall back onto the pillow, cupping my head.

What the hell?

Surely, I’m not drunk, am I?

I’ve never in my life had more than a glass or two of alcohol at a go, but I’ve heard some of the men growing up describe hangovers as a sore, heavy head and disorientation. But I don’t remember drinking.

My eyes flicker open, and confusion sets in at once. Why is my room so dark? Or is it still the middle of the night? I decide to get up and go downstairs for some of that chamomile or peppermint tea Alba keeps on swearing by.

I raise up my head and get the confusion of my life when my head bangs against a hard surface.

What the?—

It’s only then that I realize that the hand cupping my head feels wet and sticky. I bring down the hand and stare at it. In the pitch dark, I can’t tell what it is, but something inside of me already knows.

Blood. I have blood on my hands. I’m bleeding from my head.

“Hello?” I call out, stretching out my hand and patting the sides of the box I seem to be in.

Panic immediately swells inside of me when I feel the dimensions. Is this a coffin? Am I being buried alive? The only thing I can think of is that Sebastian finally discovered my infidelity, and this is the price of my betrayal.

“Help!Help me!Anyone?” I beat against the sides of the box, my breath becoming rattled.

I’m not claustrophobic, thank God, but neither do I want to die alone in a box in God knows where. Just as I have the thought, the wooden box sways and I freeze.

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