Page 6 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
“What are you doing here?” My voice is hard and unwavering.
Her brow crumples. “I escaped.” Her words are choked. She closes her eyes, those long lashes sweeping over her cheekbones and depositing a lone tear.
She escaped and came here. Why? Couldn’t she go to her sister? Nero won’t be happy that she’s here because where Adelina Ricci goes, trouble always follows. I know that better than anyone. The logical part of me knows I should turn her away there and then, but I don’t. I’ll extend her the professional courtesy that her name earns her.
“I’ll take you to Nero,” I say before turning my back on her.
The resolve I fought so hard for falls over me with the soothing serenity of professionalism. I almost sigh with relief.
Tension crackles the air between us as I lead her back to the house. My senses become attuned to every one of her movements: each footstep over the pristine white gravel driveway, every breath, even the rustle of her clothing. Once inside the house, her breathing picks up. She’s nervous. Or scared.
“Sasha.”
I keep walking down the hall.
“Sasha!” She grabs my arm, and I yank it away, turning to face her.
“What?”
“I didn’t come here to speak to Nero. I came to speak to you.”
I duck my chin to my chest. “I have nothing to say to you.”
Her being here, it only complicates things. I’ve accepted that Adelina chose Enrique, she chose her path, so why can’t she just stay gone?
“I came back here for you, Sasha!”
One of Nero’s men passes us in the corridor, and I snap my mouth shut.
Grabbing Adelina’s wrist, I tug her into the nearby living room and close the door.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Enrique is dead.”
“Congratulations. That doesn’t answer my question.”
She says nothing for long moments, and her gaze falls to the carpet, long chocolate-brown hair covering her face in a curtain. “So, we’re back to this? You treating me like an unwanted job…after all we’ve been through.”
I clench my teeth, anger pulsing over my skin. She makes me irrational, and that’s exactly why I can’t let her back in.
“We have nothing to discuss. I will take you to Nero.”
“There is everything to discuss.”
“What do you want from me? Haven’t I given you enough?” I snap. Everything. I gave her everything; parts of me I didn’t even know I had.
Her eyes narrow, a combination of hurt and anger tainting her expression. “Nothing. I want nothing from you.”
She starts to turn for the door, but my anger and curiosity get the better of me. “Then why did you come back here?”
She pauses, glancing over her shoulder. “Because I did what I set out to achieve. I said I would come back to you.”
Our eyes lock. “You never had any intention of coming back.”
She spins to face me. “Despite what you may think, I was angry, not suicidal.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter now. You made your choice. I hope it was worth it.”
Stepping forward, she reaches out, tentatively placing a palm to my chest. And I let her. For several slow heartbeats, I simply stand there, my eyes fixed on her hand. “I choose you, Sasha. Always.”
I take a concerted step back, fortifying myself against her. “I don’t choose you.”
The pain that crosses her face is clear, but I don’t care. I need Adelina Ricci out of my life. I step around her and grab the door handle.
“I have a job for you,” she blurts.
I close my eyes, blowing a sharp breath through my lips. I should open this door and walk away, but I don’t because the only reason I would do that is if I were emotionally compromised, and I’m not. Not anymore.
“What job?”
“Come to Sicily with me. Protect me.”
I laugh. She kills Enrique, and now she needs protection because the rest of his mafia are undoubtedly coming for her.
I turn around. “Even I can’t protect you from an entire mafia.”
She moves closer. “I’ll pay you.”
“To die?” I tower over her, and she instinctively shrinks back. This close, I can see the little green flecks in the blue of her eyes. “I’m good.”
“You protected me before, against worse odds.”
“An error.”
Her jaw clenches. “Fine. You kill for money, don’t you?” There’s venom to her words that borders on accusation.
“Yes.”
“Then do your job.”
“You want someone dead?”
“Yes.”
“Who? The Bianchi’s?”
She frowns. “I don’t know yet, but I will soon.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“Then how does it work?” she shouts in my face. “Tell me, Sasha!”
My eyes sweep over the perfect features of her face. “You chose him,” I say quietly. “And now you ask me for help. Again.”
“I chose the only path that would bring me any peace. You wouldn’t understand what it is to lose someone you love, to grieve them, to suffer the injustice of their death.”
I grab her jaw, forcing her gaze to mine, and she stills, breath hitching as her pulse jumps erratically beneath the golden skin of her throat. “You’re right. I didn’t know what it was to love someone until you. An unfortunate misjudgment on my part.”
