Page 24 of The Villain's Beloved (The Villain's Duet 2)

He licked his lips, and all I wanted to do was kiss him. I wanted to have his arms around me while I poured everything I felt for him into one damn kiss. But I couldn’t. A simple kiss wouldn’t be able to mean more than my rejection of his proposal.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Make sure you’re ready for dinner in ten minutes.” He stormed out, and I wanted to go after him, my heart pleading with me to run and tell him yes. Shout it from the goddamn rooftops, yet something stopped me from doing that. The rational side of my mind thought through the haze of this intense connection Elijah and I shared.

I sucked in a breath as a tear slipped down my cheek, and I wiped it away, squaring my shoulders and steeling myself against the ache that had my heart bleeding inside my chest.

“I did the right thing,” I whispered to myself. “But why doesn’t it feel like I did?”

My reflection in the mirror mocked me. I was no longer the girl who played cello in front of an empty audience. I was no longer the Charlotte Moore who cared for nothing else but music. Whether I married Elijah or not, he had changed me forever, and nothing could change that. If I had to return to my life as it was before him, I still wouldn’t be her.

This woman in the mirror wearing the expensive dress, with her hair styled in the perfect updo—not a strand out of place—this was me. The woman whose heart bled out on the carpet because she had just rejected a man who offered her a relationship society had dubbed abnormal and toxic. It was a kind of relationship that offended others, yet it made me soar with more freedom than I had ever experienced before.

My chest rose and fell as I took a deep breath, and my gaze fell on the music box standing on the nightstand. That little box carried such a tragic story of a brother who loved his little sister so unconditionally. A boy who couldn’t save his sister being snatched by the unknown, and he had to live with that his entire life. Brushing my fingers along the box, I wondered if he’d ever find her.

I opened the box, and the music started to play, the little ballerina twirling around and around. Inside laid a little pocket Bible which I overlooked before, snug within the confines of the box.

“Ready?”

I jolted and closed the box, setting it down. “Yes.”

“Let’s go.” His voice was ice, his demeanor cold. It wasn’t my Elijah who stood before me. It was him…The Musician.

Elijah and I made our way to the hotel lobby in silence, my heart pounding with the uncertainty of where this left us, how things would be between us from here on out.

I was on my way to the hotel restaurant when he grabbed my elbow. “This way.”

Unsure, I glanced around. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer me and simply led me in the opposite direction through a double door that took us down a hall. “Elijah, where are you taking me?”

Tightening his fingers around my elbow was his only answer. We walked out into an underground parking area, a silver Maserati idling in front of us. A man dressed in a black suit handed Elijah the keys, and he let go of my arm.

“Get in.”

“What? Where are we going?”

He held the door open for me. “Get in the goddamn car, Charlotte.”

Our eyes met, and I kept his gaze for a second, a storm raging in his irises—a storm I was afraid I wouldn’t survive. But I got into the car anyway.

The door slammed shut, and I watched as Elijah rounded the front of the car, my pulse racing impossibly fast.

“Where are we going?” I asked as he got in behind the wheel.

“You’ll see.”

Lights ignited the narrow streets, boosting the hues of romance that echoed off the tall buildings. Crowds of tourists and locals alike walked on the sidewalks—people laughing, couples kissing, the atmosphere almost electric in the city’s vintage ambiance. It was far more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. No television show or magazine picture did this city justice. Words couldn’t describe the sight of Rome under the stars. The sky was clear of the clouds and rain we had just that morning.

The silence in the car was excruciating as Elijah sped down the streets of Rome. I glanced at him, his silhouette dark as he clutched the steering wheel with his strong hands, veins bulging with the strength that ran through his blood. There was no denying it, Elijah Mariano was a force of power and primal instincts. I was convinced that if God had never made humans and the Earth was only intended to be roamed by divine beings, Elijah would have had his own corner to rule.

My skin prickled as Elijah met my gaze, and I quickly looked away, only to see the colossal building in the distance, getting closer and closer as we kept driving.

“Is that the…” I leaned forward, placing my hand on the dash. “Is that the Colosseum?”

“Yes.”

Chills erupted in my spine, spreading to every corner of my body. “My God,” I breathed as I took in the sight. The majestic building painted with beautiful golds of splendid lights was breathtaking. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, its imperial presence demanding my attention. “It’s beautiful.”

A dialing tone sounded, and I realized Elijah was making a phone call.

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