Page 113 of Seeking Vengeance

We’ve traveled an identical path. Climbed equivalent mountains. Battled the same enemies.

His indoctrination into the mafia seems understandable now. Acceptable. And the fact he got out… I shake my head, overwhelmed with admiration. Burning from it. Blistering with the need to whisper my support.

I reach for the liquor bottle. His strong fingers let go of the prize to allow me to take a gulp. The burn of vodka hits my tongue, my throat, then sears its way into my empty stomach.

I want to tell him I understand. That Iknowhow he must have felt. But instead, a question seeks supremacy, bubbling from my lips. “Do you know who killed her?”

“I do.” He nods. Succinct. “I’ll give you one guess.”

27

Layla

“Emmanuel killed her?”The question tears up my throat.

Matthew nods.

His revelation only makes our paths more entwined. It’s him and me. There’s not a soul in the world who could understand what we’ve both been through. Only us.

“Does Lorenzo know?” I ask.

“Yes. My hatred wasn’t something I could hide.”

“But you’ve never…” I let the sentence fall short.

He’s been in the same room with his girlfriend’s murderer. He watches him. Stalks him. How can he not react?

“There isn’t a day when I don’t think about ending his life,” he confesses. “But as you know, there are rules. Lorenzo might despise his brother-in-law, but the man is still his sister’s husband. He’s not to be touched.”

“So you keep an eye on him instead.”

“I snoop to find things I can sabotage.” He reclaims the vodka and finishes the bottle. “Being unable to physically hurt him doesn’t mean I don’t do it financially.”

I lower my gaze to his chest, attempting to relive every moment we’ve had together in the hopes of understanding. Not only the implication, but what this all means for me and my plans.

“What are you thinking?” The alcohol on his breath brushes my lips, filling my lungs, intoxicating me. “What did I say this time?”

Is it wrong to still be here? To still want to make this work despite the strangling complications?

God.

My head screams with indecision. My heart yearns to salvage the unsalvageable.

“Layla?” He drops the second bottle to the tiles, his fingers finding the sensitive skin below my chin to gently lift my face to his. “Talk.”

“Explain how this all started,” I whisper. “How we met. What was going through your head. Were you trying to manage the threat I posed toward the Costas? Have you kept me close because I can achieve the things you can’t? Or because you’ve needed to distract me from my plans?”

Because I’ve been distracted.

Entirely.

Completely.

I inch back, needing space, only to be fastened in place against his lap by strong hands clutching my waist. “Are you with me for a purpose?”

“Would you consider greed a purpose? Indulgence? I’m with you for no other reason than my own selfish desire.” He stares at me, unblinking. “You intrigued me from the first night we met. You becamemydistraction. Then an obsession. And even after I found out you were a complication, and a potential threat, I still wanted more.”

He leans closer, the heat of his mouth breaching my own as he reclaims my cheeks with his palms. “I haven’t fallen for anyone since Grace, Layla. I’ve fucked, but never fallen. Not even close, until you.”

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