Page 75 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
“The warning would have been great,” Rafe mumbles, and the guys all laugh.
“Okay, now, no more business,” I say.
“No more business.” Nero gets up goes to the sideboard.
Opening a draw, he removes a silver tray. On it are several cigars and a cutter. Everyone picks up one. Nero offers me one, and I shake my head. They all light them, and the smell of the cigar smoke has a wave of nostalgia washing over me. It reminds me of my father. In a moment of weakness, a lump forms in my throat, and my chest gets tight.
I push to my feet. “Excuse me.” I offer them a fake smile, hurrying from the room.
The scent of the smoke clings to me. I just need some air, so I make my way through the house, grabbing my coat and hat, and pulling boots on before I slip out the front door. The gardens surround the entire house, a carpet of untouched white. Light spills through the windows, hitting the snow and making it glitter like thousands of tiny diamonds. It crunches beneath my feet as I make my way out to the back of the house. At the end of the garden is a fence, and in the distance, Manhattan sits, a bright jewel on the horizon. I close my eyes, embracing the utter silence that only comes with the snow. It’s as though the entire world is holding its breath, waiting to thaw.
I hear footsteps behind me. I turn my head, a smile already on my lips as I expect to see Sasha. Instead, I find Una. A black coat clings to her tiny frame, a fur-lined hood almost covering her face. The snow illuminates her pale skin in the darkness. She looks…almost ethereal.
“Una?”
She doesn’t say anything, simply comes to stand beside me, her gaze trained on the scattering of stars in the night sky.
“Thank you for inviting us here,” I say awkwardly. Truthfully, she scares me, and I never know what to say to her.
“I wanted to speak with you,” she says. That’s never good, so I hold my breath, waiting. “I never thought Sasha would love anyone,” she starts.
“He loves you.”
“In a way, yes, but it is not the way he loves you.” She turns and looks at me, and reticently, I meet her intimidating gaze. “You broke him once.”
“I never—”
She holds her hand up. “I do not care for your problems, Adelina Ricci. Sasha is my brother in all but blood. In a world where it is hard to love or trust anyone, I have always loved him in our own way, and trusted him with my life. Many times. My methods may seem ruthless to you, but I would die for him. Break him again, and I will come for you.”
“You don’t have to do the sister thing. I have no intention of leaving him. Ever.” I scuff my boot in the snow. “I know you don’t like me.”
When I look up, her eyes sweep over me. “I respect you.” From her, that feels like a glowing commendation, although I don’t know what to say. “Welcome to the family.” She turns and walks away, just like that.
I watch her until she rounds the corner of the house, disappearing from sight. I turn my attention back to the city in the distance. I came out here to clear my head, and now I’m not sure if I’m more confused or less. My breath fogs in front of my face, and the chilled air makes me shiver, but there’s something revitalizing about it.
Warm breath washes over my neck, and I smile as lips caress below my ear.
“How do you do that?” I whisper.
“Do what?”
“Approach without making a sound.”
“Practice.”
I turn to face Sasha, and he trails his knuckles down my cheek, eyes dropping to my lips. He seems so at one with his surroundings, a prince in a kingdom of ice. His hair, his eyes, his skin. He could almost be frozen.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks.
“Just clearing my head. Those guys are intense.” I jerk my thumb back toward the house.
“They are. What did Una want?” he asks.
“To warn me.”
He cocks a brow. “Of what?”
“Not to break your heart.”
He cups my cheek, his hand surprisingly warm. “Well, you may be the only person in this world who could hurt me, malyshka.”
I wrap my icy fingers around his wrist, holding him to me. “I’ll never leave you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
His lips brush mine. “I’m not.”
“So sure of yourself,” I tease.
“No, just sure of us.” He pushes his hand in his pocket. “I have a gift for you.”
I frown as he produces a tiny box. My heart skips before he opens it. Inside is a ring made of two strands of silver and gold that criss-cross over each other before forming a knot on the top.
