Page 3 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
I take a seat at the breakfast bar across from him and clasp the mug between my hands. His eyes narrow, the usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. We sit like that for long moments, and I sense him assessing me, taking my measure. The lines that were drawn between us have shifted and morphed.
When the intense silence is almost too much, he finally speaks. “You’re different today.”
“I am.”
Clearing his throat, he leans forward, bracing his elbows on the bar in front of him. “I’m struggling to see where this new-found confidence is coming from. You tried to kill me, and I’ve spent most of the morning debating whether you live or die.” He sits back again, a sick smile touching his lips. “I have what I need now, a legitimate claim to your family business.” So, he no longer needs me. Again, the fear that should come with that is simply absent. “You married me to try to kill me.”
I can’t deny it. The slice on his neck is proof enough. “Yes.”
“You are more Eduardo’s daughter than I thought.” Something flashes through his dark irises.
My fists clench at the sound of my father’s name on his tongue, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
“I see you still want me dead.”
On a deep breath, I force a layer of calm to settle over me.
Enrique isn’t stupid, and so I don’t even try to lie.
I stare at him, allowing the hate I feel to bubble to the surface. “You ordered my father dead. You raped me.”
He lifts a brow. “You’re my wife.”
My jaw clenches so hard, a sharp ache reverberates through the muscles. I don’t want his backward excuses for the fact that he’s an animal.
“And should you survive, you will learn your place.”
Learn my place. Anger washes over me, hot and fast. I get a grasp on the fireball and crush it until it’s nothing more than a smoking lump of coal, and then I wrestle it down to a place where I can no longer feel anything. Anger serves no purpose here. Wait, should I survive…
Taking his wallet from his pocket, he removes a coin, tossing it in the air a couple of times. “Heads or tails?” he asks. So, my fate comes down to the toss of a coin.
My pulse ticks up until I can hear it drumming in my ears, but I stare him straight in the eye, even as he tosses the coin in the air and catches it. He slaps it down on the back of his hand and pauses.
“Heads,” I say.
He smiles, then lifts his hand before his gaze drops. I count to five in my head before he speaks. “Heads it is.” He almost sounds disappointed he won’t get to kill me.
“Great. Now we need to talk. Things have changed.”
He pushes to his feet and rounds the breakfast bar, leisurely moving to stand beside me. His fingers trail the length of my arm slowly, setting me on edge. The slightest brush of his lips meets my skin, but I don’t pull away. Even the disgust I should feel is muted to nothing but cool indifference. I’m now trapped in a game where manipulation is key because I need him for what comes next. Whether I like it or not, Enrique has power, money, and reach. If this all plays out the way I intend, I’ll need that.
“Nothing has changed, principessa. That ring, means nothing because you were already mine,” he whispers against my ear.
“I wanted to kill the man who killed my father, but that isn’t you.”
“No, it’s not. So, what are you going to do?” he asks, his voice luring.
I slowly turn, meeting his gaze. “I’m going to kill Sasha Ivanov,” I vow. And then I’m going to kill Enrique.
Reaching up, I trail my fingertips over the dark stubble of his jaw. His eyes drop to my lips, and I have to suppress a smile. He may be intelligent and ruthless, but at his root, he’s a man, driven by base desires. Manipulated by primal urges. And he wanted me, not my beautiful sister, or any of the other powerful mafia daughters. Me. I remember every single time I’ve looked at him, the desire I’ve seen in his eyes. Leaning in, I brush my lips over his. Staggered breaths rush over my skin, and I know I have him, so I kiss him. I feel nothing, neither repulsion nor lust, just…nothing. His hands hit my waist, turning me on the stool and tugging me closer. I bite his bottom lip hard enough to taste the metallic twang of blood. He groans before tearing himself away with a hard expression.
“You think you can play games with me, principessa?”
I grip his jaw and swipe my thumb over his bottom lip, wiping away the spot of blood. For the first time since I arrived here, Enrique will be my toy. “No games. Sasha Ivanov killed my father, and then he killed your brother. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
