Page 26 of Enemies in Ruin

DearDiary,

Well, THAT just happened, and all I can say is hallelujah and praise the Lord…if that’s an orgasm, it’s going to happen a lot more if I have anything to say about it.

What is THAT, you ask? Oh, just losing my virginity, that’s all. *inspects nails* It wasn’t an absolutely religious fucking experience or anything. Luca didn’t make me come on his lips and his tongue before showing me the most GLORIOUS penis I have ever seen—and yes, I’m well aware that I’ve only seen two, thank you very much—and making me come all over that, too.

I didn’t even think virgins could do that. My boyfriend is just that good, ladies and gentlemen.

I foresee lots and lots of sweaty, freaky sex in our future because, apparently, Luca is a little freaky. He told me he likes all sorts of weird shit, like choking and knives and butt stuff, and I must be weird, too, because I got a little hot just thinking about it.

I mean…things will never be boring.

I told him I was probably perfectly okay with just about anything as long as there were no golden showers or fecal matter involved. I draw a hard line at that. And hitting me. You better not hit me, bruh.

His eyes got all murdery and intense—have I said how much I love his green eyes? And he grabbed my chin with his thumb and his forefinger and said, “I will never lay a finger on you, my wild girl, that you don’t want. I promise you that.” Then he said he loves me.

I foresee—way down the line—marriage and fat, happy Italian babies with pretty green eyes. His coloring is so odd. So pretty. He says he looks more like his American mama than his Italian father.

I foresee happy ever after for always.

I am in love.

Mrs. Luca Marzano.

Ashower…orashower?

Luca stands there in front of me, his eyes narrowed as he regards my bare legs and the curve of my hip with a mix of mischief and cool disinterest.

As if he doesn’t actually care what my answer is.

Hunger glints beneath the look of devil-may-care in his eyes, though. This is more than just ‘passing the time.’

I look down at the floor, at the faint memory of bloodstains his clean-up crew left behind. “What about Evie?”

Luca reaches past me and picks up the bottle of wine I left sitting on the counter, his fingers tightening on its neck. The gesture would be imperceptible unless you’re watching for it. I am. I used to be able to tell what he was thinking with a sideways glance. He’s learned subtlety in the intervening years, though, and now I’m hunting out every tell, desperate for the smallest thing to reveal his thoughts. He’s gotten too good at hiding from me.

“Evie is immaterial,” he finally says.

A hiss rises in my throat. “I won’t be your side piece, Luca.”

“You’re not my fucking side piece, Carina.” His green gaze glitters at me, hot with frustration and lust, and he tips the bottle up to drink before passing it to me.

I hesitate, my fingers curling around the neck of the bottle. If I drink, I’m agreeing to a shower. Agreeing to something more than a shower.

There’s a part of me that doesn’t want him to touch me until I’ve had a chance to scream at him. I need to yell at him about Evie. Get it all out of my system. How dare he get himself engaged to some other woman…some woman he doesn’t even love. It would be one thing if he loved her, if he couldn’t live without her. I could understand it, then. I could accept it.

But he’s here. With me.

More than that, though, I want to tear him to shreds over how he abandoned me when I needed him most. This man, who has always fought so hard for his family, didn’t lift a pinky for me.

Fuck him.

The other contrary part of me, saysyeah.

Fuck him.

Fuck him now.

My body wants him so much. Every bit of him speaks to mine in a language that is sewn deeply into my DNA; it’s a language so personal and so intimate that I’ve never met another human who speaks it with the same mastery Luca does.

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