Page 73 of Bloody Vows
"Simone—" He still doesn’t look up, but I see his jaw tighten. “This isn’t the time.”
It clearly hasn’t been the time for a few days. I didn’t think he could go that long without picking a fight with me or trying to fuck me, and some part of me doesn’t like that he has. So I’m picking one for him.
"No." I move to stand in front of his desk, forcing him to acknowledge my presence. "We're going to talk, and you're going to listen."
He leans back in his chair, and I can see the wariness in his green eyes. "About what?" His gaze is icy, and I can tell that his anger with me hasn’t abated. “Talking isn’t what I’m interestedin when it comes to your mouth, Simone. Especially since you’ve made it clear that you have no interest in making this marriage work.”
“I don’t need so many guards.” I glare at him. “I can’t move without feeling like I’m being caged in. I feel like a prisoner.”
"I'm protecting you."
"You're suffocating me."
"Better suffocated than dead."
The blunt words hit like a slap, and I have to take a breath before I can respond. "You think I’m going to run again?"
Tristan runs a hand through his already messy hair.
"I think you're a target. I think Sal Envio would like nothing better than to get his hands on you, and I think he's got the resources and the motivation to make that happen. Because ofyou." His voice cuts like a knife. “You gave him the motivation. You egged Enzo on, made him think there was a possibility that you were on board with having me murdered. Now they’re plotting, my father is questioning if he should ever have handed this territory to me, and Konstantin is wondering the same. All because you can’t accept thatI’mthe man who married you instead of that pathetic excuse for a mafia boss who your father planned to hand you over to.”
His smile is cruel as he continues. “Do you know why your father picked Enzo? Because he knew he could be controlled. Molded. Shaped into exactly what he wanted. I’m not malleable, Simone. I’m not controllable. Not by you or by anyone. And you’d never have been happy with a man like him.”
“You have no idea what would make me happy,” I snap. “No fucking clue.”
A muscle ticks in Tristan’s jaw, and I can feel him winding up for the fight.Fine. I’d rather fight with him than deal with the tense, icy silence of the past three days.
"What do you want from me, Simone? You want me to pretend the threats aren't real? You want me to let you wander around Miami like nothing's changed?"
I tilt my chin up, glaring at him. "I want you to ask me what I want. I want you to treat me like a partner instead of a possession. I want to have some say in how we handle this situation."
Tristan pauses, his eyes narrowing at me. “Is this your idea of how I prove that Ideserveyou? By giving you a part in all of this? Involving you in our war room meetings?”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
His jaw tightens. "Absolutely not."
"Why?" I cross my arms. “You’d be surprised by how capable I might be. Besides, I know things about my father and Sal that you and Konstantin don’t, just because I live?—”
“Because I don’t trust you,” Tristan snaps. “You’ve lied to me. Plotted to kill me. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you hate me and want no part of this marriage. So why the fuck would I trust you with our plans? With sensitive information? Why would I think that you can be trusted withanything, Simone?”
He stands up abruptly, moving around the desk toward me, and I can see the frustration radiating from him in waves. "And besides that, you have no idea what you're asking for."
"Don't I?" I don’t budge an inch. This is becoming a familiar pattern, and I’m more than ready to go toe-to-toe with him.
Tristan shakes his head. "No. You don't. This isn't some game, Simone. This isn't playing dress-up and attending charity galas. This is life and death. This is blood and violence and choices that could get people killed."
I swallow hard, hating that he’s partially right. That I’ve never been raised to be a part ofthisfacet of the mafia world, and that I’m probably not prepared to be a part of it. But I’m sofucking tired of being shut out, of being talked around and over, of having choices made for me. And I’m not backing down.
"You think I don't know that?" I step closer to him, close enough that I can smell his cologne, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. A shiver of heat runs down my spine, but I ignore it. "You think I've lived my entire life in this world without understanding what it means?"
Tristan eyes me. "I think you've been sheltered from the worst of it."
“That doesn’t mean I’m not aware of it. That I don’t know that my father killed plenty of men. That you probably have. I know this world is brutal, Tristan, and I know men die all the time trying to get what they want. I’mtiredof being treated like I’m something fragile.”
“You could prove to me that you’re stronger than that, then.” Tristan stares down at me, his jaw working. “Prove to me that you want to be a part of this.”
“How?” I snort. “Let me guess. You want me down on my knees.”
