Page 21 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I…” I stumble over words. “I wanted to speak to you.”
“About what?”
“Uh, just…” I drag a hand through my hair, hating the nervousness that flutters in my stomach. Am I scared of him? I should be.
He moves back and opens the door wider, a silent invitation. I take uncertain steps forward until I’m standing in his room. The space smells like him, fresh mint and just…clean. The scent brings a wave of nostalgia because my mind still associates it with the way he made me feel. Before all of this, back when I was a scared girl, and he was the only one who made me feel safe.
His long legs eat up the distance across the room as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. He looks relaxed, legs spread casually, his elbows resting on them. “What do you need?” he asks impatiently.
“Matteo Santori wants my answer by tomorrow,” I say, telling him exactly what’s plaguing me.
“And you’re here, why?”
I release the breath that feels as though it’s about to make my ribs crack. “I need advice.”
“From me?”
“I can’t ask Gabriella. She’s so set against my entering into another betrothal. And…” I duck my chin to my chest, looking down at my own knotted fingers. “I have no one else.”
“I think we both know that my opinion means little to you.”
“Because I didn’t listen to you when it came to Enrique? If I hadn’t married him willingly, he would have forced me to eventually. You know that. Better I seem willing and get close enough to end all this.”
His eyes harden at the words “get close.”
“I was backed into a corner.”
“I was willing to protect you,” he growls.
“At what cost?” I shout. “Were we supposed to run forever?”
He says nothing for long moments. Those eyes, such a clear, frosty blue, seem to strip away my flesh until he can see my soul. Every weakness, every undesirable trait. “And now? Are you backed into a corner?” His head tilts to the side the way it always does when he’s trying to work me out and anticipate my next move. “Because the way I see it, you have free choice. You just can’t help yourself, Adelina. You throw yourself into dangerous situations again and again.”
“Because I’m never safe. I will never be safe until this is all over.” I pant several breaths. “I’m so tired of being used by everyone, surrounded by false friends.”
Him being the worst culprit.
His lips flatten. “Well, you seem to burn friends as quickly as you gain enemies.” He meant for that to hurt, and it does.
“I didn’t ask for any of this. I just need someone in my corner.”
“And you think that someone is Santori?”
“He’d be an ally.”
“You have allies.”
I snort. “Nero? My sister had him as an ally once. Look where that got her.”
“Your sister was weak. She disappointed him.”
My teeth clench hard enough that my jaw aches. “He took advantage of her.”
He says nothing for long moments until the silence feels oppressive. His stare is so intense, I want to look away, but I can’t. “What is all of it worth in the end, Adelina? Santori will help you, and for what? So you’re stuck in exactly the same situation again, only you believe this man is more noble than the last.”
“He offered me an out. After six months, if I don’t want—”
“You know as well as I do, a mafia betrothal is binding. If you take the Bianchi seat and become engaged to him, do you really think he’ll let you walk away?”
“He’s not like that.”
Sasha’s lips twitch before a rare laugh slips from his throat. “After all you’ve seen and been through, you cannot tell me you’re still this naïve. Your hand would buy him power, access to a combined Bianchi and Ricci empire. All men want power, even the ‘nice’ ones.”
I swallow heavily, feeling stupid and confused all at once. “What would you have me do?”
“From a strategic standpoint, it would be a strong maneuver. Combined, you’ll have a lot of power and money.”
“I don’t want your strategic view. I want a personal one.” I catch the slight softening in his eyes and take a step closer until my knees almost touch his. I find myself needing to hear his words, his feelings. I want him to talk me out of it, for no other reason than he simply doesn’t want me to marry another man. I reach out, halting just before my fingers touch his.
His eyes drop to my hand, then lift back to my face. Something unfurls between us, tentative yet familiar.
“Tell me not to do. As my friend.”
He pushes to his feet, towering over me until my chest brushes his. “We were never friends, Adelina,” he whispers. He reaches out, delicately stroking a strand of hair away from my face as his eyes trace over my features.
