Page 28 of Bound to the Enforcer

"Why didn't he tell me?" she whispers.

"Because he wanted to protect you," I reply. "He didn't want you to carry that weight. And neither did I."

Her gaze snaps to mine, sharp and filled with fire. "But you knew. You knew, and you let me believe it was just a random attack. All this time, Alessio, you've been lying to me."

"I wasn't lying. I was trying to protect you from the truth. From the ugliness of it. You were already torn apart by her passing. What would telling you the truth have done?"

Her laugh is bitter, cutting. "Protect me? Do you even hear yourself? How has me walking around blindly benefited me?"

"You needed time," I counter, stepping closer. "Time to grieve, to find your footing. If I'd told you everything back then, it would've destroyed you."

She takes a step toward me, her eyes blazing. "I had over a decade to grieve for her. I should have been told the moment my father found out what happened."

Her voice wavers, and the raw emotion in it cuts me to the bone. I don't know what to say, how to make her understand.

"I…" For the first time in my life, I am at a loss for words.

"The next words out of your mouth should be an apology and nothing more." The tears brim her eyes. The truth seems to settle into her mind.

Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, neither of us moves. The weight of everything unsaid presses down on me.

"You think I don't feel it, too?" I ask. "The anger, the guilt? Every time I look at you, I see what I couldn't stop. I see the people I've failed to protect. Your sister. Your father. You."

Her eyes soften, but her anger doesn't fade. "And you think that justifies keeping me in the dark? It doesn't. I deserve to know the truth, Alessio. About everything. We need to agree that from this moment on, there are no more lies between us. We tell each other everything."

"Okay." My answer comes almost immediately.

"I am in this, Alessio." She presses her hands to my chest. "I know what I need to become in order to be the person the organization needs."

There is a steady resolve in her eyes. She has made up her mind, and she is sticking to it. But I can also see the pain in her eyes.

"Alessio." She breathes my name in a way I have never heard come from her. "Please."

She doesn't even need to tell me what she wants. I can see it swimming in her eyes. The hunger, the need, the sheer unbridled desperation.

I shake my head, the frustration bubbling over. "Soph, I can't… this is not right."

She drags her hand up my chest and then winds it around my neck. "Please, Alessio. I want to forget. Please, help me to forget."

Her plea is enough to have me on my knees. I want to, I really, really do. But one of us needs to have the logic to keep these boundary lines in place.

"Sophia."

"Alessio," she mimics my tone. "My entire world has been flipped upside down the past few weeks. I have witnessed death, been shot at, and have a treacherous uncle trying to steal the empire my father built. On top of that, I find out that my sister wasn't just gunned down in some senseless act of violence. She was trafficked by that sick bastard. I know that we have to tackle everything come sunrise, but for right now, I want to forget. I want to dull out the pain in my chest for just a second, please."

The fire in her eyes draws me in, and I can't stop myself. Before I can think, I grab her by the waist and pull her to me, my lips crashing against hers.

It's not gentle. It's a clash of anger and desire, a release of everything we've been holding back. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I lose myself in the heat of it, in the way she feels against me.

When we finally pull apart, we're both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together.

"This doesn't change anything," I say roughly. This is a bad idea. Crossing this line will change everything, but with her body so close to mine, I am lost in the sweet abyss that is her warmth.

She is too pure. Too good. Too Sophia. I will corrupt her. I will mar her with my jagged and calloused edges. But the logic is nothing but a whisper in the back of mind. The only thing that I can focus on is her body and her scent that assaults every one of my five senses.

"It changes everything," she whispers back, simmering rage.

Her anger hasn't faded. If anything, it's sharper now, more focused. And for the first time, I realize she's not just angry at me. She's angry at Domenico. At what he's done. At what he's taken from her.

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