Page 108 of Brutal Legacy

Now, it felt like that wound had been opened right back up. And blood was running freely.

Before I knew it, the bottle of wine was empty, and my head was swimming. I had to hold onto the floor.

I had to be drunk. Because I never even heard him approach.

One minute, it was just me, gazing out the window, whispering to myself like a madwoman.

The next, a dark figure was crouched beside me, prying the empty wine bottle from my hand.

“What’s going on?” Elio asked, his deep voice sending a rush of sparks across my skin.

“I’ve just been taking a walk down memory lane,” I slurred, sloppy drunk. “I don’t recommend it. It’s a fucking tragedy.”

He studied me in silence, then stood. “You need to lie down.”

I nodded, my head feeling like a puppet on a broken string. “Yes, boss,” I sniped, putting my hands to the floor and trying to push up — only to immediately tip over.

“Whoa.” The world spun violently.

An Italian swear word left Elio’s mouth, then he muttered something and reached for me. His arms were strong as he scooped me up and held me against his chest.

I inhaled the smell of him.

No perfume. No cigarettes. No gross club smell or evidence of another woman. He hadn’t been with someone else. Why did that make me relieved? It shouldn’t. I should be happy if hewas making himself and his taciturn moods and cruel disinterest someone else’s problem.

“You smell like you,” I murmured into his shirt.

He turned and took me from the kitchen.

“Who else would I smell like?” he mused as he carried me down the hallway.

“Your girlfriend,” I mumbled. “You’ve got one, right? Why wouldn’t you have one?”

“I’m not really the dating type,” he said cryptically. “And I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m a married man.”

A smile spread across my lips at his matter-of-fact tone. He glanced down, and one side of his lips lifted in a smirk.

“You like that?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Yeah. I like that.”

We reached my bedroom. He pushed the door open with his foot and carried me in, heading toward the bed.

“Can I ask why you decided to get drunk as a fish tonight?” he asked and lay me down.

“I couldn’t work out how to turn the TV on.” I sighed and relaxed into the mattress.

“I’ll show you tomorrow,” Elio said. “Get some rest.”

He turned to go, and — faster than I thought I was capable of — I snagged his hand and held him there.

“No, wait.”

He stilled.

“I met Captain Toni,” I added and tugged on his hand.

He let me pull him to the edge of the bed. He sat.

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