Page 171 of Love Me in the Dark
I don’t know where those words come from but his hand doesn’t waver.
“You’re born into this.”
“I know my place,” I say. “I don’t have to like it.”
He lets out a soft sigh. And it’s so low I almost miss it. “This isn’t my decision.”
I recognize the tone, the implacable edges that tell me what’s done is done and there’s no way out. But the center…it holds a gentle regret.
I’m familiar with the first one, but not the latter.
Cal’s like no mafia man I know. He’s good looking and hard edged with that softness inside that calls to me. But it could all just be in my head because I’m going to a man I’ve never met.
I put my hand in his.
It’s like the world stops breathing as heat and an electric current runs through me.
Our eyes meet, lock and I can see worlds there.
For one bright moment I think the softness in him is just for me.
For one bright moment there’s something deep in that heat and spark and it makes my body throb low and deep.
And he looks at me like he feels it too. Like he wants to devour me whole.
“It’s time.” He drops my hand.
And he leaves me no choice but to follow.
4
QUINN
For the billionth time I rub my hand where we touched. It still tingles. I’ve killed, lied, done things that have permanently stained my soul and I’m not even thirty. Yet all that pales in comparison to the unexpected reaction to touching the untouchable.
Hellena O’Brian.
I look at her and I see something I want to protect. Hold close.
Something I’m not going to ever do.
She stands behind me in a simple black dress, looking like she’s going to a funeral. Maybe that’s what this all feels like to her. A funeral of everything she could have been but laid to rest because of obligation and expectation.
We’re in the kitchen and I go through the pantry, finally pulling out a can of soup. “It’s not much, but…”
“Who owns this?” she asks.
“Third party.”
I can almost hear her nod. There’s a scrape of the kitchen counter’s stool over the stone floor. I turn toward the stove and heat the soup.
“Third party.” She pauses. “You’re not mafia.”
“Yes and no. It’s…complicated.”
“I’ve got time for complicated. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
Turning to her, my fucking chest catches and contracts. All those dark red curls, the soft curve of her cheeks, the full mouth and those long, toned legs.
