Page 13 of A Beautiful Crime

The crowd erupts in applause and bright lights flash.

He raises us back up with ease and keeps his large hand on the span of my back. Except this time his fingers are splayed on my skin.

An electric current zaps throughout my body not because of the rough texture to his fingers, but because of what his fingers are touching.

My heart gallops from my chest and takes hold in my throat.

He tilts his head to the side, those whisky eyes narrowing down at me. “You’re scarred.”

I’m fully aware that I am wearing a gown that exposes my scarred skin. It’s papa’s and Luca’s own twisted way of saying that they even torture their own flesh and blood. If they can do that then what makes anyone else think they can be spared?

But no one has ever come close to my scars, let alone touch them.

Breathing through my nose I reply, “And you can state the obvious.”

He hums again. His eyes are still assessing me like I’m his very own test object and he’s awaiting the results.

His fingers run languidly along the jagged irregular lines of my scars. They create a burn worse than when I was receiving my lashings.

“Don’t worry, Carina, I do not take pleasure in hurting women unless they are traitors.” This piece of information surprises me but I do not let it show.

I arch a cool brow. “Doesn’t the Devil take pleasure in the torture of anyone?”

“You speak as if you know me.” There’s a sharpness to his tone, like the tip of a blade pressed to one’s throat.

“Doesn’t everyone have an inkling of knowledge about you?” I counter.

“They only know what I want to be known,” he corrects me.

The piece will soon be coming to an end and so will our dance.

And as much as I am ready to be freed of him I can’t help but want to discover more about him. To be able to know what no one else does.

It’s for strategic advantages, is what I tell myself.

It’s because one must be close to their enemy to be able to cause their downfall, is what I tell myself next.

But is it really?

This banter between us, the fire and ice, my indifference to his interest has been the most alive I have felt in months.

It’s only fitting really, how the cause of my death which led to my rebirth would also be the cause of my awakening.

And as much as I long to feel alive once again I hate with a burning passion that it is him who makes me feel it.

Damn him back to Hell where he belongs.

“And you want me to know you take pleasure in hurting women who are traitors. Why?”

His fingers stop their exploration of my scars as he flattens his hand on the middle of my back and pulls me flush against him.

I ignore the damn flutters that make their presence known once again.

“Because if I am to take Savio Fiore’s offer for your hand you must understand,” he begins and then unclasping our hands he pinches my chin between his finger and thumb and tips my head back to keep my gaze on his, “if you are to betray me I will take pleasure in making you bleed.”

A shiver slithers its way down my spine without me being able to stop it.

And I see it now.

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