“We should go,” she said, staring at me with an open mouth. “Before he comes out and we get caught.”
I nodded but didn’t trust myself to speak. I put the car into gear and headed back home.14CoraI shouldn’t have been mad at Reid. Being mad at him for bringing me to that bar was like being mad at a shark for biting—it was what he did, what he was. He couldn’t help himself any more than an animal following its instincts.
Except he wasn’t an animal. He wasn’t a stupid man.
He knew the risk he took and he went ahead and dragged me along with him.
I bristled at the idea of being his cover. I didn’t want to be a part of a murder—even the murder of the bastard that tried to kill us. I wouldn’t stop him, of course, and hell, I wanted it to happen, but I didn’t want him to drag me along—and make me watch.
Still, he stood down. He listened when I spoke and seemed to think I had a good idea. So although I was pissed as we drove home, it was a cool anger, and I felt it slowly drift away by the time we reached the house.
“Care for a nightcap?” he asked as he opened the front door for me.
I gave him a look and headed into the kitchen. He followed me and watched with a curious expression as I opened a bottle of wine, poured myself a glass, then held it up toward him.
“Here’s to not being a violent bastard all the time.”
He laughed, and I thought I saw real delight in his eyes. “I’ll drink to that.” He poured himself a glass then toasted me.
I drank and eyed him the whole time. “What are you going to do when Enrico and Aldrik get back to you?”
“Kill Jarvis and be done with this.”
I let out a breath and leaned up against the counter. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, fighting back a headache, as a flash of my past came rushing back—Alex, bleeding on the ground.
“Does it always have to come to that?”
“I don’t get you.” He sat down at the table and stared at me. “He tried to kill us and yet you keep acting like you don’t want revenge.”
“You heard my cousin. No violence.”
“Your cousin doesn’t speak for me.” He shook his head and drank some wine. “Seriously, Cora. What’s with you? You can’t be such a perfect little angel.”
“Is it so hard to believe that I don’t want blood on my hands?”
“Yes, yes, it is.” He leaned toward me, eyes hot on mine. I knew he was thinking about that kiss—wanted him to be thinking about it. I still had his taste on my tongue and as much as I wanted the wine to wash it away, I didn’t think anything could, not when my pulse thudded gently in my chest and with each beat I wanted him a little bit more, a little bit deeper.
“We’re not all monsters.”
“You’ve used that word before—monsters. Is that how you see me?”
I chewed my lip and waved a hand. “You’re all monsters, not only you.”
“Even still, you use that word as though you know what a real monster is. Tell me, little wife. Did you grow up with monsters?”
I stared at him and felt my anger flare up again. “Of course I did. I was surrounded by them. My father, his brothers, their men, all of them looking at me, thinking about me, treating me like fucking shit but still expecting me to do things—cooking, cleaning, flirting. It never went past that, but I think it would have, sooner or later.”
He grunted. “You had it hard then. You’re no mafia princess. But I still don’t see why you’d hate me so much.”
“I don’t hate you.”
He laughed and put his wine glass down. “You hate me, Cora. It’s all over you every time I come around. Even when you want me, even when you want to fuck me, you still hate me.”
“That’s not true. It’s not just—”
“Go ahead and say it’s not just me again.”
I clamped down my jaw and clenched my hands. I put my wine glass down, afraid I might squeeze it hard enough to shatter the glass and cut my hand to shreds.
“You really want to know?” I asked, feeling myself lose control of my anger. “You really want to know why I hate you?”
“Tell me.” He leaned toward me, hands spread, staring at me with this look in his eye like all he wanted to do was strip me down and fuck me on the counter.
“My best friend, Alex.”
“You mentioned him.”
“I told you he wanted to be a made man. Wanted to be hard, but he… he wasn’t.” I looked away as the memories came swirling up through me. I thought I might be sick, and I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, or the food, or reliving the memory of Alex, of talking about the most horrible moment in my life to this man—to this made man, to the kind of man that got my friend killed.