Page 122 of Tide of Treason
She shot up so fast the chair nearly toppled.
“I have a business meeting.”
“I know.”
I didn’t.
“I don’t have time for a shoulder reduction and . . . and whatever that is on your face. Fix it.” Purse over her arm, her tone rang brittle, covering something up with that dismissive edge. “Just don’t make it a problem for me.”
Hours later, Kayla found me sprawled shirtless on the sofa,Forensic Filesflickering across my eyes while a bag of frozen peas iced my shoulder. Without lifting my gaze, I drawled, “The asshole bought bleach and a tarp in the same cart, even tossed in a coupon. Survival of the thickest.”
She tossed her purse onto the table. Kicked off her heels with more force than necessary. A stack of paperwork landedon my chest, all refined parchment and pretty gold crests. Sforza contracts always came wrapped in false civility, but this one . . . it hissed. Sizzled. Burned through the cheap cotton of my shirt, and when I looked up at her, the paper only got heavier.
“Viviana’s annulment went through. I signed the documents with her last week. Elio arranged it through the ecclesiastical court. He owed me a favor.”
I glanced back down.
A tendon in my jaw twitched.
Viviana’s name had been scratched out. In its place, Kayla’s in bold, unforgiving ink. I ran my thumb over the raised seal, watching the gold catch in the lamp light. I felt the words burn through my skull, hotter than the torn muscle in my shoulder, sharper than the edge I’d been living on since the night my old man ate a bullet in front of half the Cosa Nostra.
“Didn’t know an annulment included a second shot at wedding bells with the older sister.”
She looked away. “You’re not funny.”
I wasn’t. Not tonight. Not ever, when it came to her.
“If this is your way of calling shotgun—”
“It’s me calling dibs until my last breath. And I don’t do returns.” The peas vanished from my shoulder, replaced by the bite of her nail skimming my throat. Something dark and urgent cracked behind her voice, like she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if I denied her. “I just need to know you’ll stay.”
“You know I’m not the fairytale you wanted,” I saidroughly.
Kayla made a quiet sound and pushed me deeper into the cushions, one hand beside my head, careful with the bad shoulder. That consideration alone burned hotter than any bullet ever had. She kissed me slow and deep, two months’ deprivation vanishing into the taste of her mouth. Seconds without her had festered beneath my ribs, a slow necrosis I’d felt with every breath.
I didn’t even register my hand moving until I felt the soft curve of her ass fill my palm. The contact singed up my arm, licked heat across my chest like napalm and nicotine.
“I missed your body,” I growled into her mouth, the words ragged with want. “Missed your bite. Your voice. Your cunt.” Grabbing a fistful of long hair, I pulled her back, wondering how a woman could look like home and hell in the same breath. “But none of that even touches how bad I missed this. You, just breathing near me. Knowing you’re alive. Safe. Mine.”
“Are you asking for my heart, Lucius?” She smiled faintly, eyes shadowed with the ghost of melancholy. “Or do you already have it?”
I shook my head slowly, knowing there was no chance in hell I deserved that much. My body would give me everything, because it was mine to use, but her heart was a precious thing I’d never earned. Still, I felt it beating fiercely, right there against my chest.
“I don’t do returns,” she repeated.
Good.
Because fuck knows I wouldn’t survive the return policy.
Kayla left the annulment papers on the table beside me and disappeared into the bathroom with her blouse half unbuttoned, humming some Italian aria as if she hadn’t just offered me the one thing I swore I’d never take: forever.
My shoulder throbbed. Hands shook. But my decision was already etched in blood.
I picked up the pen.
And signed with the same hand I usedto kill.
35 | Lucius
