Page 36 of As Angels Sin

“Did I say man of honor? I meant maid of honor, and I meant for you. You’ll have to let Simone down gently.”

I laugh for real this time. An actual joke! He’s really pulling out all of the stops to turn my frown upside down.

“I bet you’d look hot in a dress,” I say, deciding not to correct him on it beingbridesmaid.

“I bet you’ll look stunning in a wedding dress.” Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I’m glad my face is buried against his chest.

“You wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me in a wedding dress.” I decide to shift the conversation to a topic we’re both better versed in. Marriage, in any form, is a scary thought. Maybe that’s because the only men who have presented me with that opportunity, are scary men.

“I wouldn’t. But is that really saying much when I can’t keep my hands off of you anyway?” I steal a glance at him and our eyes meet. Has he been staring at the crown of my head this whole time?

“You’ve got me there.” I tuck my face back into position against his chest.

“How are you holding up?” Concern sounds alien coming from his mouth, almost forced, especially after the fun we’ve had.

“I’m scared.” I see no point in lying to him. Out of everyone who attended Father’s funeral, Crue’s the only one who can truly protect me. The rest are distant relatives, who travelled all the way from Italy to attend, or the scumbags who helped to overthrow my father in the first place.

“I know.” He loosens his grip on me, letting his hand gently caress my back.

I look up at him. Just his presence is enough to stop the swirl of fear and doubt that threaten to engulf me.

“Then why’d you ask?” I return to my place against his chest, digging myself deeper into his presence.

“It’s what I’m supposed to ask, isn’t it?” He shrugs.

“And what would you do, if you forgot what the world expected of you?”

“I would...” In spite of starting the sentence, Crue takes a very long time to speak again. His eyes tell that his mind is racing. He is thinking about what to say, and stares off into the distance. Maybe he is looking into the future, somewhere far away, yet right in front of him.

“Fuck “would”.” His eyes return to my face. They are no longer distant, not searching mine, or my soul to see what I want from him. He has his answer, and he’s letting me know.

“I’m going to kill them, Fiametta.”

Another troop of cousins, aunts and uncles approach, but pull away when they notice Crue isn’t letting go of me.

“All of them. I will not stop until I know that you and our child are safe and far away from this life, this place. Until I know you are living a new life in a beautiful home, in a beautiful neighborhood, with some beautiful neighbors to call friends and your surrogate family.”

“What about you?” I sniffle as a few stray tears manage to get past my internal struggle to bury them deep inside.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, to me.” I can’t keep eye contact with him. Not when he’s saying, what I think he’s saying.

“This is my doing, Little Flame. If I hadn’t happened, you’d have lived a comfortable life, sold clothes and helped the homeless. I’ll get you back there.” He squeezes me tighter against his body.

I believe you, but at what cost?

“Crue, I need to tell you something,” my breathing returns to the unsteady mess it’s been since that ghastly morning. Tears flood to my eyes making my vision blurry and the frog in my throat mutilates my words.

I have to tell him. We had our good moment, but it’s time to get back to the hard kick in the nuts that is reality.

“Yes?” He inches back far enough to get a clear view of my face.

“Tomas pulled the trigger.” A muscle in my neck starts twitching as I make one last effort to hold the floodgates shut. My lips curl down, my brows raise, and my chin sinks. I must look a mess. But Crue doesn’t care. His steely eyed intensity sharpens as I say the words. He doesn’t care how bad I look, rather he is focused on the state Tomas has left me in.

“He killed my father. He did it in front of me. I think something’s going on between him and Matteo Baronne, and I don’t want you getting involved and getting killed.”

There is no more holding back, my tears won’t allow it. They pour down my face freely, spilling and splashing all over theplace. Crue slides a hand behind my neck and buries my face into his chest again. He holds me there, stroking my skin with his thumb, trying so damned hard to make things better. To make them right.

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