Page 4 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
“So, you want to be friends?” A wry smile plays over his lips.
“No. We’re married. Two of the most powerful Sicilian families bound together.” I stand, my chest pressing flush to his as I bring my lips to his ear. “Together, we could be unstoppable.” When I meet his eyes, I see the lust swimming in them. Not for me, but the kind of power that makes families invincible. “But first, I need him dead.”
“Barely twelve hours ago, you tried to kill me, principessa. You’ve made us enemies from the start.”
“I thought you killed my father.”
He’s every bit as responsible as Sasha, maybe even more so, and I will absolutely get to him. But he didn’t allow me to trust him, to love him, all while knowing he’d brought about my father’s end. Sasha did that.
“Deliver me his killer, and all will be forgiven.”
Enrique’s eyes drop to my lips again, then lower, where the material of my dress dips to reveal the tops of my breasts. He wants to tame you. I hear Gabriella’s words. Perhaps that is what he wants, but I’ll play this twisted game of ours.
He sighs. “Sasha Ivanov is not easy to kill.”
“Not for you, but me…that’s a different story.”
His eyes pinch, sinking faint lines into the corners of his eyes. “He doesn’t know that you know.”
“No. And I have his trust.”
He cocks a brow. “You want me to allow you to go to him?”
My head tilts to the side, and I trail a finger over his chest, scratching my nail over the crisp white cotton of his shirt. “Allow? No. This is a marriage, Enrique. You can have a partnership, or you can have a slave. But remember, power is forged with alliances. Are we allies? Or enemies?”
It’s written all over his face; he doesn’t trust me. His fingers slide around my throat before gripping my jaw firmly. I’m forced to meet his unforgiving gaze.
“You may kill him,” he spits through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening further until they dig into my skin. “But remember, you are mine, Adelina Bianchi. If you do not return, I will find you. And if that happens, I will make the rest of your life miserable. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”
He releases me with a shove. “It needs to look like you escaped. Better yet, make them believe you succeeded in killing me.”
“Them?”
“I know it was Nero Verdi and his Russian whore who helped you. Wherever Sasha Ivanov goes, The Kiss of Death is sure to follow. They wanted me dead, and you…” He strokes a strand of hair behind my ear. “You were the perfect, naïve little pawn.”
I instinctively want to defend Nero and Una, because they helped me, and they have a child who doesn’t deserve Enrique’s wrath. But they played their part in Daddy’s murder, or at least Una did. I naïvely placed my trust in them. And Nero…he respected my father. Did he know as well?
Enrique continues to stroke my cheek in a way that’s nothing short of unsettling, watching the realization play out on my face. “So naïve, my bride. Oh, how you tried. You danced so beautifully on their puppet strings.”
I resent the statement, and my fists ball in response.
“I will allow you to go to Sasha Ivanov and end him, but this is just the start. A war is coming, and you will be the first blow. Betray me, and I won’t let the Russians kill you. I’ll bring you back here and treat you like my own personal fuck doll.” His thumb drags over my bottom lip as he speaks through gritted teeth. “Remain loyal, and we will have everything. I wonder, will you let go of the past in order to live a beautiful future?”
No. I have no loyalty now, not to anyone but Gabriella and myself. Enrique wanted a queen, well now he has one, and I will possess his kingdom by the time this is all said and done.
“Shoot me,” I demand, and he lifts a brow. “I escaped, remember?”
His eyes sweep my body. “Where?”
“The leg.” As I speak the words, I remember the exact moment I shot Sasha in the thigh. I spent weeks riddled with guilt he did not deserve.
Enrique steps forward, forcing me back against the barstool until I fall onto it. He presses between my legs, and I lift my chin, brazenly making eye contact. A hand lands on my knee, gliding upward and along the length of my thigh. I remain perfectly still, distanced. My mind has separated from my body until my flesh is nothing more than a weapon in my arsenal. And I will use it to get exactly what I want.
“I don’t want to scar your pretty thighs, principessa. I didn’t marry you because I like fucking ugly things.”
I narrow my eyes and slap his hand away from my leg. “This isn’t about your dick, Enrique. We have bigger problems.”
