Page 77 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
I shake my head, exasperated. “It’s not your job anymore. You don’t need to keep checking on me.”
“No? I should just let you run out to parties at the wrong end of town with no protection?”
“No one is going to hurt me,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t be so sure about that. Besides, pain isn’t the only thing you need protecting from, Castellano.”
I grind my teeth together. “Then what?”
“Capture.” He strokes a hand across his chin. “You’d make excellent ransom collateral.”
Oh.
His words twist like a knife in my abdomen. He doesn’t care that someone might want to hurt me to avenge my new family; he only cares about preventing his family from having to spend money on protecting me.
My lip curls. “So don’t pay the demands. Just keep your money and let them have me.”
His voice is like flint. “That might be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”
Savage.
I don’t understand why, but I like that I got a rise out of him. I want to do it again.
“Better yet ...”—I narrow my eyes—“do it after the wedding. That way, Savero gets his share of the port but doesn’t have to contend with a wife he doesn’t actually want.”
A low growl erupts from his chest, setting my skin alight.
“I swear to God, Castellano, if you say one more word tonight, I might have to shove you out that door myself.”
I’d hide my smile behind my fingers, but my hands are tied, so instead I turn to look out the window, content that he can probably see my triumphant expression in the reflection.
We drive in silence for a long ten minutes. All the blood drains from my hands.
I turn to him accusingly. “I can’t feel my fingers.”
“Good thing you don’t need them for anything right now.”
I pout. “I’ll need to pee when we get there. How do you propose I’ll remove my underwear?”
His jaw grinds, the sound audible over the smooth engine. “What did I say about talking?”
I tip my head. “You said I couldn’t say one word. You didn’t specify several.”
“I said ‘onemoreword.’ Are you baiting me, Castellano? Because if you are, let me say this. When it comes to dishing out punishments, I don’t discriminate.”
“You mean you don’t play favorites?”
“I don’thavefavorites.”
I chew my lip, weighing up the sense or senselessness of my next retort. “Not even your new sister?”
He stops working his jaw and swallows hard. His voice thins when he replies. “You’re not my sister yet.”
“No, but I bet you’re counting the days,” I taunt.
“Not exactly.”
“Whyever not? I’ve got lots of experience being a sister. In fact, if you were to ask Serafina, she’d say I’m thebest.”
