Page 63 of Rotten Men

“We must talk,bella rosa,” he coos. “You’re still upset with me. You should be happy and celebrating right now, but instead, you keep holding up your walls against me. Why?” he asks hopefully, and it astounds me how volatile and delusional he is.

“Shouldn’t I be upset? You killed my husband and kidnapped my son, Ciro. I see no cause for celebration,” I answer truthfully, but my honesty only makes him chuckle.

“I was referring to getting rid of your father,cara mia. I know that I will need to continue to make amends for the other two aggressions. And I will. Eventually,” he adds the last word with a sadistic simper, filled with his sick, twisted satisfaction.

“You think killing my father was a suitable way of making amends for everything you put me through?” I cock my brow.

“It is a start, is it not? We need to recommence our lives somehow. I think killing off the man who ruined us is a fine foundation to build from,” he replies, taking my hands in his, yet again placing another soft kiss.

He can’t stop kissing me for too long, and I wonder when my fingers will no longer satisfy his hungry lips. I release my hands from his hold and place them on each of his cheeks, determined to look my nightmare in the eye.

“We won’t be starting anything, Ciro. Not while you insist on threatening the people I love,” I explain, using the same melodic tone he is so fond of.

“If this is about Vincent, my beautiful rose, then this will be a very short discussion. I can offer you the world, but his life is not one of the things I’m able to give. As it stands, Vincent is still the boss of the Outfit. I can no longer condone him having something that always belonged to me—myrightful chair,rosa.”

“Then you are right. There is nothing else we can discuss and nothing else I’m interested in,” I announce sternly, leaning back on the desk, creating distance from the man who insists in being glued to my side. Ciro has shown all his cards and weaknesses tonight. Apparently, I’m his biggest one.

“Isn’t there?” he asks, placing his hands on my thighs, stroking them eagerly.

“No, there is not,” I tell him firmly, slapping his hands off me.

“I have to be honest; once I put James’ freedom in question, I was disappointed that you didn’t come to me for help. I shouldn’t have been, of course. If you had, then all of this wouldn’t have happened, and I would have to come up with another way to undermine Vincent’s rule. Still, the truth is sometimes a harsh reality to face. Especially because, not only did you go to Vincent for aid, but you also sought out two others I wasn’t expecting,” he relents ominously.

My throat instantly goes dry, as I watch the knowing glimmer in his eyes sparkle with his declaration.

“I don’t have to kill them, Selene. Dominic and Giovanni are not a threat to me. They never were. You can save them. Just say the word.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, placing his curious hands back on my thighs. This time I make no move to turn his affection away.

“Save them?” I hush out, the lump in my throat preventing me from saying more.

“Yes, of course. Dominic is too good of an enforcer to get rid of, and Giovanni has become quite the mastermind in the Outfit. I can use their abilities, but only if you so wish it. I’d save them. For you,” he insists, with a genuine look in his eyes. But I know it’s all a fabricated sham. I want to punch him and call him out on his lies, but I know right now I’m balancing on a thin line conversing with the mad man.

“You’d save them but not Vincent?” I ask instead, knowing full well that he would gun down Dom and Gio, too, if they were a threat to him in any way.

“Yes. For you,rosa, I would. Of course, your relationship with them needs to cease to exist—no contact of any kind, whatsoever. Otherwise, you would force my hand in having to put them six feet under,” he advises, wiping the imaginary lint off my jean-clad legs, instead of making eye contact.

But his statement feels closer to the real truth at hand. He might actually be persuaded to leave Gio and Dom alone, as long as they continue to serve his needs and never lays eyes on me again.

“So I’m to be yours and only yours?” I ask point-blank, wanting him to say the words aloud.

“As it was destined to be from the start.”

“You talk of destiny, but you always said that we should make our own. The stars written in the sky have no weight against our own wills and desires,” I paraphrase his own words, rehashing a conversation we once had when I still considered him a friend, and a possible ally.

“And I still believe that to be true. But I also believe that your place has always been with me, Selene. We are two of a kind, you and I. It’s not our fault we lived our whole lives in darkness. They made us this way. But somehow, against all odds, my rose, I found you—a woman who has the same depraved desires as I do. Not only do you enjoy watching your enemies burn asunder, but you also want to be the one responsible for lighting the match. Neither Vincent, Giovanni, or even Dominic could handle such a precious force of nature. But my thorns will elevate you to your true glory,rosa. Can you deny we are made from the same cloth? Deny how our pieces fit so well? Can you deny having the same hunger as I do?” he questions, eyes wide in delight.

“No, I can’t deny it,” I answer him and I find the sincerity in my statement tragically disappointing.

The thorn and the rosearein fact two of a kind, as he is so adamant in proving. We have both been molded by the same cruel hands, given a youth so ugly and deplorable, that only the vile and hateful can flourish.

“Can I ask you a question? Could you ever love me, Selene? The same way I love you?” There is genuine vulnerability underlining his every word, and my heart breaks for the monster that yearns to be loved but is resolved in killing the pieces of my own soul.

To appease the moment of weakness he has opened for me, I give him my honest answer, “I could have loved you the same way I could have loved Pietro and the same way I loved James—with half a heart.”

A small, fragile smile tugs at his lips, and it’s the closest to a heartfelt grin I have ever seen the intimidating man display.

“As I said, we have to start somewhere,” he hushes and places a tender, chaste kiss on my lips.

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