Page 105 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

“Butterfly, just spill it,” he murmured, brushing his nose against mine.

“Our marriage will be exclusive, right?” I blurted out. “Because you’re mine and I’ll-”Kill anyone that touches you.

Okay, it would seem I was slightly possessive.

This passion we shared was mine, and I refused to share it. I wasn’t the tame, good wife that would put up with her husband’s demands and wishes, but I’d be there for him and he’d be there for me. Nobody else. And truth be told, if I found him to be unfaithful, I didn’t think I’d be able to keep my temper in check.

“I will be only yours and you will be only mine.” His voice was serious. “You’ll be the only woman I’ll be fucking.”

Relief washed over me, like cool water against heated skin. This uncertainty was foreign to me, and I didn’t like the feeling. For years I’d heard Margaret and other girlfriends talk about insecurities, suffering over men that didn’t call or didn’t care, and could never relate. And now, it was all slamming into me like a freight train.

“Cassio, I think we should probably talk about-” I searched for words. There was so much that we didn’t know about each other. Actually, we knew nothing about each other. “I guess everything,” I finally muttered.

It wasn’t just the question of the arranged marriage. There was so much more - images that now I knew were connected to him, his family that was one of the most feared ones on this planet, my determination to bring the King’s human trafficking to an end and our future together. I was smart enough to know that divorce in the underworld wasn’t a possibility and living for the rest of my life just settling wouldn’t work for me.

He nodded his agreement, pulling me into his embrace, my ear pressed to his heartbeat.

“We are going to do this in the middle of the night, huh?” he teased. “You want to go first?” he asked. He didn’t seem frazzled nor nervous. Truthfully, I was a bit of both. Usually, I kept my shit together, but around him, parts of me that I thought were broken just came to life and confused the crap out of me.

I shrugged. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he said. “Let’s hear it.”

I took a shaky breath in and then slowly let it out. In a strange way, his scent and warmth comforted me. “I know you've had someone following me so I assume you know about my side business of saving trafficked women,” I blurted out.

“I know.” I didn’t expect that answer so I raised my head, searching out his eyes.

The moon was full, throwing off shadows on both of us through his large floor to ceiling window overlooking the city.

“How do you know?”

“Just a few days ago, you were in Turkey,” he said in a soft voice, pulling me close. “You scared the living daylights out of me, rescuing those women, being in harm’s way.” We watched each other, his eyebrows furrowed as if it pained him to remember the whole event. “You won’t be reckless with your life like that again.”

“You were there?” I questioned him with a furrowed brow.

He nodded. “Luca and I. We were shooting at the men that were shooting at you.”

“At the compound?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No.” There wasn’t a second of hesitation before he responded. “Luca and I got a tip that Marco had a shipment of women delivered there,” he answered, holding my gaze. “We were going to get them out and level that place to the ground. But you beat me to it. And I had Nico dig up everything on you.” He smiled, unapologetically. “I want to take care of you, keep you safe.”

I tilted my head watching for any deceit but my sixth sense was telling me he was truthful.

“You weren’t there for the women?” I asked in a quiet tone.

“I don’t agree with human trafficking,” he said in a hard tone. “It’s non-negotiable.” He took my chin between his fingers. “How long until you trust me?”

Leaning closer to him, I pressed my mouth to his. I was falling for him, fast and hard.

“I do trust you, Hunter,” I murmured against his lips. “Not understanding why my body and mind trust you is what is scaring the shit out of me.”

It was the truth. I was operating on my instinct, but things that lingered in the shadows were scaring me.

“You just need time,” he said in a raspy, hushed tone. “Don’t force it, Butterfly.”

“You said we’ve met before,” I said, determined to get a hint. A nudge in the right direction. Anything. “I need a clue.” Anything would be better than these distorted images of his hand reaching for me. Carrying me. “Where have I seen you? When?” His lips curved, and I knew what he was thinking about. “I’m not talking about two years ago,” I added quickly, my cheeks warming. He was trying to distract me.

“We met eleven years ago,” he finally said. “I can’t tell you the details. You will have to remember those on your terms.” I frowned. Everything always went back to when I was fourteen. That year was such a fuzzy year, and I could barely recall it. I remembered every single thing that happened when I was ten, eleven, twelve. Any year, but that one. Somehow that year seemed important. A key to something that I couldn’t quite distinguish. He took my hand and squeezed. “When you remember, I’ll answer all your questions. But it wouldn’t be fair for me to give you my version of our encounter. You lived through it, and you need to remember how you saw it.”

---