Page 52 of As Angels Sin

“Well, I’m not many people,” I say. “I’m just little old me.”

“And little old you is more than I deserve,” he whispers it against my skin.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, big guy.”

I refuse to let him slip into some post-nut clarity depression. Not on my watch.

“You’re not too bad yourself. Rough around the edges, but—” I jostle my hips against his cock that’s still inside me. It makes him spasm in overwhelming delight. “We’ll smooth you out with enough grinding.”

He chuckles, and hugs me tightly.

Chapter Twenty-Four

FIAMETTA

“Can I ask you something?”

We’ve been sprawled out on the double bed for hours. We've exchanged a few idle comments that I wouldn’t really consider chatting, but it doesn’t bother me. I haven’t felt this whole and content, sitting in silence, for a very long time, and it has been kind of nice.

“Depends on whether you expect me to answer or not.” It’s so hard to tell if he’s serious or if this is an attempted joke.

I ask, anyway. “Why did you want to do it?” It hasn’t eaten away at me lately. My priorities have shifted to something more important than the past. But Crue’s shown an unwavering desire to take on this fight, and I guess I’d like to know why, in case something bad does happen.

“Why did you try to kill me?”

“You were a contract. I am aneliteassassin,” he says, nonchalantly.

“Is that really all there is to it?”

Should I be hurt? I’m not. Somehow hearing that there wasn’t anything personal behind his motives makes it easier to push that night out of my head.

“For you and me, yes. For Matteo Baronne? Not so much.”

“What did he want?”

Crue tells me everything. From their first meeting months ago, to the original list of names he was given by Matteo, and finally, he describes my introduction to their terrible business. I feel so stupid. It’s so obvious that Matteo was behind this. But that’s hindsight for you. You forget how dark the world can be when you live in bliss and ignorance.

“You said that Matteo used you...” I don’t know how long I’ve got of Crue’s being open and honest, and I’m going to get as much information out of him as I can. I’ve learned more about him in the last few minutes, than in the months he’s beenhuntingme.

“Does he have something on you?”

Crue smiles. It’s barely visible. It’s not the kind of smile that comes from happiness, and I get a bad feeling that leaves my tummy in a knot.

“No, he doesn’t have anything on me. Either he or I would’ve been dead a long time ago, if it had been blackmail.”

My follow-up question is primed and ready, but Crue speaks before I get the chance. “You’re not going to like the truth, Fiametta. You need to decide if you want honesty, or if you’d prefer I didn’t speak ill of the dead.”

Another swell of embarrassed heat flushes my cheeks. This is Father’s doing. It’s harder for me to accept how naive I was about him than my ignorance about Matteo. Father made it ahard point to remind me of how cruel life is and yet, I never suspected his involvement until now.

“Please. I’d like to know.” I am humbled by his sudden response, and my voice is shaky and soft.

“My mom was a nice woman, with particular views on the world. She lived by walking a line of black and white, instead of gray.” Crue starts. He stares at the ceiling, speaking in a deadpan tone, as if he was having a passing conversation with a stranger about the weather, rather than a trip down memory lane.

“After my father passed, she found work in the lowest of places. Servicing men to pay the bills and to see me through the hard times. Before you ask, no, her whoring has no bearing on why I am what I am.”

As if he could read my mind.

“After a bad fight and a stint in the military, I returned home, to find mom still doing the same work. But now, she was older, and her clientele were a certain kind of disgusting. But she had to get by. I started running jobs. Made a name for myself. After all. I had been a trained killer with the US government’s seal of approval. After I was employed, it didn’t take long for window smashing and knee-cap shattering to turn intohunting.” He emphasizes the word and pauses, giving me a moment to process what he’s saying.

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