Page 136 of Rosetti Family New York
“I know—”
“Do you?” I move toward her, slow and deliberate. “Do you know what it means to bleed for something? To build it with your hands, only to watch someone cut it open and smile while it dies?”
Her chin lifts. “Yes. I do.”
That stops me. Just for a second.
“He killed my mother,” she says. “And I still served him. So don’t talk to me about betrayal like it’s something new.”
I stare at her, heart pounding hard enough to taste it.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” I ask again. The words come out like a plea. Not cold. Just broken.
Her eyes meet mine, sharp and unyielding, and I wait for her to cut me again. But she doesn’t. She holds the silence like she holds my heart—in her hands, tight and trembling.
“Because I was afraid,” she says. “Afraid you’d stop looking at me like you do right now.”
I try to understand, but my mind is a snarl of anger and confusion. Did she want this then? The rage and destruction? Is that why she let me think that she was mine?
“Now you’ve got what you wanted,” I say, defeated. “Are you happy?”
A whisper: “No.”
I step back. The silence roars.
She takes a shaky breath. “I never meant to fall in love with you.”
“But you did.”
Her eyes fill, but she blinks the tears away before they fall.
“I’m sorry, Dom. For all of it.”
I shake my head once. Tight. Controlled.
“You don’t get to be sorry,” I say. “Not here. Not now.”
I move toward her, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate strides. Each step makes my decision more dangerous, more desperate, more final. Her eyes stay locked on mine, holding as much fear as determination. I see the way she wills herself to be strong, but my presence is a force of its own. I have always been strong. Now I am something entirely different. Unhinged.
“You’re not my enemy, Besiana,” I say. “But you’re not my wife either. Not until I decide what the fuck you are.”
She backs up in rigid, wary movements, keeping herself together even as she hits the wall. Her shoulders are squared. I cage her in, put my hands on either side of her head, so close I can feel the rapid beat of her pulse. I see her brace for it, the terrible punishment she expects. My chest aches. The world spins and spins. I could crush her. I could destroy her.
Instead, I kiss her like she’s the last thing keeping me alive. I crush my mouth to hers and taste the sweat on her skin. Shedoesn’t pull away. She kisses me back. I pour myself into it, reckless and consuming.
I have never felt so lost.
“Go,” I say, breaking off. The word tears from me like it has claws. “Leave. Before I change my mind.”
“What?”
“Go.” It’s louder, like my anger, my love, my impossible need.
“Domenico, I—”
I don’t let her finish. “Get out. If you know what’s good for you, don’t ever come back. Sal will skin you alive, and I’m not fucking exaggerating.”
She stares at me, wide-eyed and breathing hard. Her lips are swollen. I want to kiss them again and again and again. Instead, I let her go. I help her leave. The sound of the wind chases us through the mansion, the sleek dark tail of Besiana’s hair bouncing.
