Page 50 of Little Dove

“You idiot,” Sofia laughs, even as fury builds inside me. “Darling, when you stab him, just remember: he’s already not that pretty, so aiming for his face isn’t going to do any more damage than he already did to himself.” Then she turns and leaves, still laughing as the door shuts behind her.

“What the hell is your problem?” I snap incredulously. “What the fuck do you mean, you forbid it?”

“Exactly what I just said,” he snaps back, leaning forward in his chair. Is he trying to look imposing? All he’s doing is pissing me off further. “The only man that gets to have a seat in your chair is me.”

This guy is seriously insane. Obviously, what he said to me this morning about going at my pace is bullshit. But what did I expect, really? I burst to my feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “What the hell is your problem?” I demand, hands going on my hips as I glare at him. What I really want to do is reach out and strangle him, but I don’t think bothhands will fit around his neck, so unless I want to take Sofia’s suggestion, this is the best I can do. For now. “Where do you get off ordering me around like that? You don’t get to forbid me from anything, Lazaro. Especially not something to do with my business.”

His expression darkens even further. “I think that you’re mine, and I don’t want any of those other fuckers getting anywhere near to you, let alone close enough to have you leaning over them and touching them. Those fuckers will probably try to touch you back, and I’ll have to kill them.”

I stare at him, sure that I’m not hearing him correctly. “That’s what this is about?” I demand incredulously. “This is all about staking some stupid fucking claim over me? What exactly do you think is going to happen — that some man is going to come in and sit down, and I’m going to throw myself at him and beg him to take me then and there?” It’s too idiotic even to comprehend.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Lazaro shoots to his feet, face flushed with fury, and his eyes dark and raging. He looks maniacal, and I’m swiftly reminded that this man isn’t the one who spent the night and early morning hours sitting close to me to make sure I slept peacefully; this is the man who killed multiple people who tried to take me back home. A man who has no problem taking out anyone who stands in his way.

And right now, that’s me. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to hurt me, but I’m too angry to care.

“If that were to ever happen, Amara, I’m warning you right now that I will kill him,” he tells me so softly that it sends a shiver down my spine. “Slowly, painfully. He will beg me for death long before I’m finished with him. No one gets to touch you. So be very careful in threatening me or even hinting at such a possibility, because I don’t make idle threats. Do you understand?”

“I understand that you’re being overly dramatic for no reason,” I snap as I glare furiously up at him. My mind is screaming at me to be careful, but I’m past listening.

“Dramatic?” he repeats silkily.

“Yes, dramatic. What next, are you going to tell me I need to walk around blindfolded so I don’t look at another man? Confine me to the room and only let me out for fresh air at night, when all the guards and any other men that might be around won’t be able to see me? Wouldn’t want them to accidentally catch a glance of me, right? What, you think they’re going to take one look at me and climb all over themselves to get to me? You’re being ridiculous and stupid. I’ve been walking around with the girls all day, in the presence of several men, and not one of them has done any such thing.”

“Being over-dramatic would be gouging out eyeballs for daring to look at you for too long,” he corrects me.

I gape at him. Did he seriously just say that? “You’re insane,” I rasp. “You can’t go around saying things like that, Lazaro.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Amara. Ever. And when it comes to you, all bets are off. I will do anything and everything I need to do to make sure you’re safe.”

“A man looking at me doesn’t endanger me, you overgrown oaf,” I yell at him, completely exasperated. “And none of this has anything to do with me doing hair. It’shair,for fuck’s sake. Most of the men around here have shorter hair, so it’s not like it’s going to take me a long time to do. Ten, fifteen minutes tops. I doubt anyone is going to fall in love with me and cause a problem in such a short amount of time. Or is it me that you don’t trust around your men? You think I’m so desperate for a man that I’ll throw myself at anyone for attention? Is that what you’re trying to imply here?”

Those last questions are bitter, biting, and I hurl them at him like daggers, yelling at the top of my lungs to sharpen their point.

“Don’t you dare compare me to those fuckers,” he hisses, incensed. His fury rolls off him in waves. I should be staggering, cowering under the weight of it, but fuck that.

“Then stop fucking acting like them,” I hiss back. “That entire fucking town thought I was a whore. That I was so desperate for a man’s attention that I was offering myself to them the moment they walked into the shop. That I just wanted to trap another one of them. To fuck up their lives like I did their pastor and his son. And now, here you are, acting like I’m going to entice these men in my chair the same way.” Saying it aloud makes my throat burn. Pain fills me, clawing at my insides, that he’s turning out to be just like them.

No, I’m not going to stand here and take this. Not again. I’ve taken it for most of my life, and I’m done. So fucking done.

I turn on my heel and stalk to the door, my footsteps pounding on the floor.

The next thing I know, Lazaro wraps his arm around me, whips me around, and then lifts me to sit on the end of the table. Before I can shove at him or try to get down, he cages me in with his arms, leaning down to close the distance between us. I glare at him indignantly, not allowing any of the tears I want to cry to fall. He doesn’t deserve any more of me.

His face is hard, but his eyes no longer hold their earlier fury. Instead, they’re shadowed with something that might be guilt, but I can’t be sure. “Let’s get one thing straight, Amara,” he says calmly, at a volume meant for only the two of us. “You are nothing like what those fuckers ever said, and I’ve never thought or said that you were. Do not insult me by lumping me in with them.”

“Then stop acting like them.”

“It isn’t you I’m worried about, Amara,” he huffs out. “I never once said I was worried about something that you would do. I said I worried whattheywould do. Namely, the men that will bein your chair, ogling you and trying to sweet talk you into giving them a shot.”

“You really distrust your men that much?”

“A man in my position never fully trusts anyone that they don’t know as well as they know themselves. The only men I’ll ever trust are my own brothers, both by blood and choice, my father, and Pietro. I don’t know every single soldier we employ, and I certainly don’t know Nico’s men. So no, I don’t trust them.”

“Why the hell would you bring me here if you don’t trust them? You told me I’d be safe here, Lazaro.”

“You are safe here,dolcezza, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to back off and wipe my hands of everything. You’re mine, Amara. You might not be ready to hear that or accept it, but I’m done tip-toeing around it.”

“Tip-toeing?” I repeat, dumbfounded. “You call this tip-toeing?”

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