Page 35 of The Temptation
I purposely leave my gaze fixed on the ceiling because those fucking tears of hers are like my kryptonite.
“Believe me when I say I wish I didn’t care about you like I do. I wish I’d never met you.”
Those cold words have my attention snapping back to her. “That’s a little harsh.”
She releases a small, breathy sigh as her shoulders deflate. “It’s true. One minute you’re shooting a guy because he hurt me, the next you’re treating me like I’m some kind of pariah. Then you’re all domestic, God-like, washing dishes and wiping down counters.”
“Domestic God-like?”
“Yes! Do you have any idea what that does to my ovaries?”
“How does my cleaning up after myself affect your ovaries?”
She tugs on her long strands of hair and cackles like she’s losing her goddamn mind. The sound is wild, unfiltered, and a little unhinged.
“Madonna, ma sei impossibile davvero(Oh my god, you’re seriously impossible)!” she shrieks, throwing her hands in the air.
When Lucia starts marching in my direction, for a split second, I feel the need to retreat, but I remain fixed to the spot. I faced men far more ruthless, so I’m definitely not scared of a pint-sized woman, no matter how angry she seems in this moment.
As soon as she stops in front of me, she pushes on my chest. “Not only do you almost make my ovaries explode, but then the next second, you’re trying to take down my clitoris as well.”
I rear back like I’ve been slapped. “Your clitoris?” My question earns me another shove.
“Yes! When you went all thug-like on Big-O and blasted her into smithereens.” She pushes me for a third time, and her feisty side is so hot. “You also shot my book! I never got to see Damien and Rosie get their happy ending.”
“Who?”
“The hero and the heroine.”
“That right there is your problem, Rossi,” I say, throwing her last name back at her as I point my finger in her face. “Those books are fiction. Damien and whatever the fucking heroine’s name is don’t even exist. They’re made-up people who live in a make-believe world. Anything can happen in a book, but there’s no such thing as happy endings in real life.”
My words have her clutching her chest with an audible gasp. “Her name is Rosie! And you’re wrong.”
I ball my hands into fists. “No, I’m not,” I bellow.
“Arabella and Dante got their happily ever after,” she screeches, poking me in the chest this time.
“They’re an enigma. That’s not how it normally works.”
She folds her arms across her chest and lifts her chin in defiance. “Maybe not for you. But some of us still believe in good things.”
I laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “Belief doesn’t change reality.”
“And cynicism doesn’t protect you from it. I’m starting to believe that you push people away before they can hurt you or leave,” she says, softer now, but it lands like a slap.
I blink, caught off guard.
“I shimmy to shake away the sadness,” she adds as her voice breaks a little. “You snap at people to keep them from getting close. We’re both messed up, but at least I’m trying to find a little joy in this shitty situation.”
With that, she turns away and storms out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. I flinch when herbedroom door slams shut with a loud thud that rattles the walls.
The silence that follows is thick and punishing, and I hate how cold the room suddenly feels without her fire in it.
Hours have passed, and Lucia still hasn’t come out of her bedroom. It’s gotten to the point where I’m concerned. She missed lunch, and quite frankly, I miss her.
Sure, I do my best to avoid her most of the time, but the reality is I like having her around and the way she looks after me. It’s not something I’ve had before now.
I pause when I reach the door to her room and use my free hand to knock lightly. “Luc, you awake?”
