Page 143 of He Should Be Mine
For the first time in my life, I feel like maybe I can stop hiding who I am. Maybe I can stop being someone else’s weapon. Maybe this warmth, this hush, this boy curled into my side, is what it means to be free.
Molly shifts again, burrows in closer.
“Stay,” he whispers. Just one word. Quiet, soft, but it cracks my chest wide open.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say.
Not tonight.
Not ever.
Chapter thirty-nine
Dario
Carlo’s house is really nice. Mayfair is a good neighborhood. Expensive, exclusive. Central London, right behind Buckingham Palace.
Maybe this is where I should buy a home for Molly and me? It certainly has a lot of potential.
I’m standing in the entrance hall, marble beneath my feet, grand staircase to the left of me, large crystal chandelier far above my head.
And most importantly of all, Molly standing right in front of me. Staring up at me with worried blue eyes.
“You will be safe here,” I say.
Carlo nods solemnly. “You have my word.”
Molly flashes him a quick, gracious smile. “Thank you, Carlo.” Then his full attention turns back to me.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he pleads.
Carlo gives me a discreet nod before turning and quietly slipping away. Granting us privacy.
Molly steps up close and grabs my sleeve. “Don’t go.”
“I have to.”
“You killed his son,” Molly frowns.
I sigh. “That’s precisely why I have to go. I have to make this honorable.”
Molly’s pretty face scrunches up. “You are all crazy.”
“Probably.”
He stares at me, and a weighted silence wraps around us.
“We should run,” he whispers.
“No, that’s suicide.”
Blue eyes glare at me, full of frustration. His lips turn down all the way.
I cup his chin. “I’m going to keep you safe, Molly. That is the plan. The whole point of this.”
“You really think the Don is going to forgive you for killing his son, and then give you his empire?” Molly’s eyes are angry. Disbelieving.
“I’m his son, too.”
