Page 47 of Till Death Do Us Part

Which is more than I can say for the man standing in front of me.

“I’m sorry,” I utter, lowering my gaze to the floor so he doesn’t see the lie in my eyes. Angering my husband is the last thing I need to do. His answering scoff goes straight to the pit in my stomach, nausea threatening me.

“I don’t care for your apologies, but if I find you getting comfortable with a Russian again, I will kill you.”

He spins on his heels, exiting the way he came on heavy feet. The gun in my hand feels heavy as my palm tightens around it. I wonder what my father would say if I used it against my husband . . . or perhaps I should use it against myself.

Either way, I’d be dead.

I’ve never feared the inevitable.

Death calls for us all when it’s our time.

These days I often wonder if it isn’t a blessing to face death early rather than a curse.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

IfeelhimbeforeI see him. His eyes burn a hole in my back as I move across the dancefloor, letting my hips sway in time with the music. After Antonio left me, there didn’t seem a reason to go back to the car. Instead, I grabbed a bottle of vodka from the bar and found my way to the dancefloor.

The alcohol burns its way down my throat as I sway side to side, losing myself in the crowd. When large hands pull at my hips, I don’t deny them, even though my husbandis in this building somewhere—but also, his consigliere, who might be an even bigger problem, is also around here, watching my every move.

We stand there for long moments, moving against each other, though I never turn. His face doesn’t matter. Nothing matters in this moment. For right now, I’m just a twenty-one-year-old girl.

A girl who isn’t tied to a man who violates her or trapped in a war between two sides who want to keep her for their own benefit and shackle her—a war I doubt anyone can win.

A girl who isn’t falling in love with a man she can never have, no matter how much her heart and mind war over him.

When the hands move over my thighs, I let out a low moan and relax into the body behind me. I press the hand not holding the vodka against his fingers, helping guide them as they caress me over my clothing. Over my waist, to the underside of my breasts, back down until they reach my inner thighs . . . so close to where I should want no one after what Antonio did this afternoon, but the one place I need friction—though it’s the wrong person behind me.

But the need to replace the imprint of Antonio’s hands on my skin and the feeling of him inside me is overwhelming, and when the hand roaming my skin cups my pussy, I can’t find the words to say no. For one moment, I want to be free of those shackles. I want to feel something other than hurt and dread. Anything but confusion and helplessness.

But like perfect moments, it ends abruptly when gunshots echo through the room, reverberating off the walls before being replaced with screams of terror as patrons rush to escape the floor.

The man behind me lets go in an instant, pulling away and darting off to safety while I stand there, a statue. Not in fear though, I just don’t have the energy to move.

“Time to go, Princess.” Leonardo grabs my hand, finally coming out of his hiding space, and pulls me away from the commotion and towards the balcony again. He drags me up the stairs, slamming the door shut behind us.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?” he asks, watching me with a raised brow. Straightening my back, my gaze locks on him, my eyes narrowing when he grabs the bottle from my hand and places it onto a table in the corner before grabbing my hips and spinning me so I’m pressed against the glass pane that overlooks the club. He pulls my hands up, pressing them against the glass with a mumbled, “Stay there.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the way he says the command, so deep and alluring, but I do as he says. A war wages below us. Weapons are drawn, men are shot, and shouts of horror continue while the club falls into disarray between two warring Mafias.

“Shouldn’t you be down there?” I ask when Leonardo steps behind me. His hand finds my ponytail, wrapping it around his fist once, then twice until he tugs my head backwards. The bottle of vodka is back in his hand, and he presses it against my closed lips.

“Swallow for me, Princess,” he commands, pressing his hardening erection into my back. My mouth opens on a gasp, and he uses the moment to tip the bottle. With the angle of my head, swallowing is more difficult, and I choke on the liquid as it sits in my throat, though this doesn’t discourage him. He tips the bottle more, forcing more liquid into my mouth.

“God, you sound so fucking good when you choke. I can’t wait to hear it when those lips are wrapped around my dick.” He pulls the bottle away, pushing my head forwards so the remaining liquid spills to the floor, my breaths coming out ragged as I try to bite back the gags. “You let somebody touch you. I’m sure I told you earlier what happens if someone touches you.”

“No. You told me what you’d do to myhusbandif I slept with him. Nothing about any other man,” I quip when I finally catch my breath. He doesn’t move from my back, only drops the bottle to the floor with a light thud before closing his hands over mine against the glass.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“Sure, go ahead,” I quip dryly, ignoring the tingles that travel through me.

“Nobody touches you, Princess,” he tells me, running his hands down my arms slowly. Goosebumps form on my skin, the material of my top thankfully hiding the reaction. When he reaches my shoulders, he slides his hands over them and down towards my breasts. “I’ve been more than patient with you up until now. Waited for you to come to me, and yet you’re still pushing me away. Why?”

“Because you’re dangerous.” My breath hitches when he cups my tits over the material, his fingers pressing into the sensitive skin. I bite my lip to stop the moan that threatens to escape. My heart pounds against my chest when he tugs at the hem of my shirt and pulls it upwards. His fingers dance across the bare skin at my waist, the calloused tips sending sparks of heat through me as he continues his trail.

“Have you ever thought that you’re the dangerous one?”

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