by Robinson, M.
Which only fueled his determination to get what he wanted
Me.
“You wish you fucking hated me,” he sneered.
“I hate y—”
He crashed his mouth into mine, digging his hand into my hair and yanking my head back to deepen his kiss.
It was intense.
Forceful.
Demanding.
Urgent.
I vigorously gripped onto the front of his shirt, yanking him closer like we weren’t already close enough, trying to mold us into one person.
He kissed me as if his life depended on it.
“Fuck… I’m going to go to Hell for this…” he groaned against my lips.
With a strong force I found somewhere inside of me, I pushed him away and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. His head whooshed back from the unexpected impact.
There was no hesitation in my words this time.
Speaking loud and clear, I said, “I. Hate. You.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“We’re all bad in someone’s story.” —Thanos
Romeo
My cheek burned instantly. I couldn’t remember the last time someone dared to hit me.
“What do you need, Eden?”
“I need you to leave,” she gritted out, standing taller, her expression a mixture of anger and heartache, a reminder that I was the fucking bastard responsible.
I shook off her blow, watching as she continued to put on a show. She stood there unfazed, not backing down. Putting on a performance.
For me.
For her.
For both of us.
Even though I knew her hand was throbbing from the assault, I reached for her on pure impulse. As soon as she felt my strong arms wrap around her waist, she flinched against me as if my touch burned her skin.
“I said, you need to go!” she shouted bloody murder, pushing me as hard as she could again. My back hit the column with a hard thud, and she didn’t falter.
She came for me.
At me.
With everything inside of her.
Again and again.
“I hate you!” Another hard shove. “All you do is hurt me!” Two kicks to my shin. “Do you hear me?” She scratched across my arm. “I. Hate. You!” she repeated, her hits assaulting every inch of my body she could access.
I tried to block each and every advance, instigating her further to push and hit me harder. After all, I deserved it. She took out every ounce of frustration and hatred she had on me. All the years of pent-up anger were shown in one instant.
“Red, calm the fuck down,” I ordered, trying to grip onto her wrists.
She jerked back. “Don’t tell me what to do! I’m so tired of you thinking you can do whatever you want to me!” she yelled, hitting and shoving me more, the closer I tried to come to her. “You just gave me away! Like I meant nothing to you! You never fought for me!”
“What the fuck?”
“When you fight for everything!” Her voice cracked. “But never me. N-never.”
She dug her nails into the sides of my neck and scraped all the way down, making me bleed. She raised her hand up to slap me across the face as hard as she could. Then she prepared to slap me again, but she wasn’t strong enough to hold me back any longer.
In two seconds flat, I gripped her throat, shoving her into the nearest wall. Taking hold of both her wrists with my other hand and placing them above her head.
I got right up in her pretty little face, rasping, “What did you expect from me? He’s my brother.”
Her eyes flashed. “Then what are you doing in my room?”
“I wanted to apologize for how I behaved tonight.”
“Oh! For that, you feel sorry. How convenient for you. I’ve had enough.”
“No. It’s not enough. Nothing is ever enough between us. You know it as much as I do.”
“Then what, Romeo? What happens next?”
“You marry my brother.” The words burned, sending my soul careening into the depths of Hell.
“Then you can leave now. Do you hear me? Just leave, and I’ll make sure to go on without you. I’ll be happy in your brother’s arms every night while you’re alone, knowing that you have no one to blame but yourself.”
I growled against her lips, and that was all it took for her to lose her shit. She crushed her mouth to mine, biting down on my bottom lip till she tasted blood. I abruptly jerked back, holding her wrists with one hand and yanking her hair by the nape of her neck with the other. She panted, frantically trying to gather her bearings from my tight hold. Both our bodies shook with undeniable desire. Every part of her resolve was hammering all around me.
I could hear it in my ears.
I could feel it in my bones.
Breaching the walls she securely had in place for me. I swear every part of my nervous system was breaking, shutting down, making it hard to see, let alone stand.
She weakly thrashed around some more, ignoring the pain in her head and the ache in her heart. The sorrow in the depths of her soul I’d caused. I held her tighter against my chest, both of us gasping for air.
Which had me breathing out, “I love you, Red. There. I fucking said it. But that doesn’t change the fact you’re marrying my brother.”
She let out a frustrating scream. I didn’t know if it was from what I said or from knowing it was the truth. Or possibly from knowing she wasn’t going anywhere unless I allowed her to. Closing her eyes, she tried to govern her breathing and her thoughts just like I’d taught her years ago.
Her fucking heart.
Would always be mine.
I loosened my grip, slowly brushing my lips against hers. I saw memories passing through her eyes, attacking her mind at rapid speed.
Of us.
As kids.
As teenagers.
Now, as adults.
Both moving in the opposite direction when I know she only ever imagined a different ending. But those happily ever afters weren’t for us—they weren’t for a man like me. The darkness had already taken hold long ago, and it would be the cruelest thing I could ever do—to fight for her, steal her away, and slowly kill her light.
“Fuck you, Romeo.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I love you. You know that. You know that… I’m no good for you. It’s why I let you go. My brother will give you everything I can’t. I know you know that too.
She turned her face away from mine, but I gripped her chin, forcing her to peer back up at me. The truth created a near standstill between us. But the truth demanded to be said despite the pain those words inflicted.
“The hardest thing I’ve ever done in all my life is to let you go. Please… forgive me,” I rasped, chest heaving.
We stared at each other for what felt like hours, both of us lost in our own darkness.
In our own demons.
“I just wanted a minute to look at you, be with you, fucking feel you against me.” Rubbing her bottom lip with my thumb, I reveled in the feel of her velvety skin. Licking away the blood from my own lips, silently wishing it was her who was doing it for me. Her eyes followed the movement of my tongue, aware of what I was thinking and what I wanted. She could always read me, which is why she hated my lies; it was an insult to everything holy between us.
“I fucking hate you,” she panted, once again slamming her lips into mine.
I growled, parting them. My hands went to the seam of her tight dress, hiking it up to her hips. Slapping her ass, making her whimper before I turned her around and shoved her against the wall instead.
I forcefully yanked her head back farther, claiming her lips. Winning this power struggle between us. Working my button and zipper, I was unable to get them open fast enough. Pulling out my hard cock, I aggressively stroked it back and forth while I crudely tore the bottom of her dress up her thighs.
My hand went to her throat and the other on her hip, gripping hard. Applying ample pressure to both. Wanting to ma
rk her body the only way I could. In one hard thrust, I was deep inside of her.
“Fuck,” I groaned loudly against her parted lips as she hissed into mine. Crying out but not saying a word.
I dug my fingers into her hip bones, thrusting harder with more determination. There was nothing sweet about what we were doing.
It was primal.
Heady.
Angry fucking.
With every thrust inside her, the mass of my body movement inched her a little higher. Savoring the feel of my mouth claiming hers, her pussy throbbing against my shaft, and her G-spot pulsating along the head of my cock. Over and over again.
“I’m going to come,” she panted as I quickly pulled out only long enough to turn her to face me; our eyes locking as I drove in and out of her a few more times. I abruptly pulled away, needing to look into her eyes.
Spiraling out of control in a frenzy from the feel of our mouths and bodies colliding. Coming together for the first time. She could feel it as much as I could. It was lingering in both of our chaos.
Each thrust.
Every moan.
All of it.
I carried her up by her ass, making her straddle my waist before I fucked her up against the wall. A picture crashed to the floor and shattered. Her heart was beating as fast as mine. I kissed her passionately with everything left inside of me. Needing her to understand how much I loved her and hated that I had to let her go.
“Ah! I’m going to come…”
Desperately and deliberately, I wanted to literally fuck her out of the depths of my soul.
“Open your eyes. Look at me,” I demanded.
“No.”
I mercilessly pounded into her, harder and faster. My balls drenched from her wetness. The slapping sound of our skin-on-skin contact echoed in the suite.
“This what you wanted, Eden? Me to fuck you? Huh? Answer me!” I seethed, slapping her ass.
“I’m going to come…”
“Open your eyes while you come on my cock.”
“No.”
“For fuck’s sake. Look at me!”
She closed her eyes tighter.
“Eden, look at me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t say goodbye to you.”
I slammed into her, using her hips as leverage. Making her keep up with my vigorous pace. Never once letting up on my ruthless thrusts.
“You’re going to have to, baby. This ends tonight. Now, look at me.”
“Romeo, I’m going to come…” she breathlessly panted, fighting back my truths and tears. She cried out, squeezing her thighs with her release. Clamping down on my dick.
A growl escaped from deep within my chest, taking me right along with her. Our bodies went lax. Our thoughts running marathons, mimicking our fuck session that happened out of pure anger and desperation to feel some sort of connection.
Both of us fully aware this truly was the end of our torrid love affair.
I reveled in the brief feeling of her in my arms, knowing I fucked up. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have kissed her. I shouldn’t have taken her like she was mine to begin with. She was my brother’s, and I would forever remember this moment for the rest of my life. This was where I really let her go.
“Red, please look at me.”
She slowly lifted her gaze.
Tears already swelling her big blue eyes.
I needed to kill her in order to live without her.
So I said the very thing I knew would do exactly that. I lied. “I don’t really love you. I only came here to fuck you.”
She froze, and I stared profoundly into her solemn gaze.
Finally ending us once and for all, I hurt her for the last time…
“Now go marry my brother.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Your enemies always get strong on what you leave behind.” —Michael Corleone
Eden
Now
I remembered nothing about the limo ride back to the house—our house. The one that Tristian purchased right after our wedding.
A gift, he’d said.
For his perfect wife.
I’d kissed him then, purifying my lips with his, expelling the lies of the week before when I took my vows in front of God and Family.
Romeo reached for my hand again, helping me out of the limo. I took it out of necessity, out of fear that I would collapse again, and I refused to let my son see weakness when he needed me to be his strength.
Already the house was crawling with associates, family members, policemen, politicians; the list was agonizingly long, and I knew by the end of the day I’d be worthless, emotionally and physically exhausted by doing my dutiful job as the accountant’s widow.
“Mama!” The front door flew open as Naz sped toward me, his white shirt untucked from his black trousers. Already, he was barefoot. His pitch-black hair was a tousled mess like he’d been running his hands through it. A habit he’d learned from his dad.
I jerked away from Romeo, dropping his hand, and opened my arms as Naz jumped into them.
“I missed you.” He sniffled. “But Nana said I had to go back.”
“I’m here now.” I kissed the top of his head, willing the tears to stay in. “Give me a few minutes to freshen up, and then we’ll get you a snack. Sound good?”
“They have cakes.” His whisper was almost louder than his regular voice bringing a smile to my face. “Don’t tell Nana, but I licked the frosting off the chocolate one.”
“Scout’s honor.” I grinned and stood.
He reached for my hand and then reached for Romeo’s. “I feel sad, Mama.”
His daddy was gone.
And he’d worshipped him.
Called him his best friend.
My heart couldn’t take it.
My chest felt like it was going to break in half, only to do it on an endless cycle until the day I died.
“Go freshen up. I’ll take care of him.” Romeo grinned down at Naz. “You still like extra sweet sandwiches?”
“Super-duper a million sweet!” Naz flashed his toothy grin as we made it through the front door and into the foyer.
“Go,” Romeo urged.
I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I’d crack. Again. Romeo was everything Tristian wasn’t. And they’d both known it.
Things had shifted that night.
And then after the wedding.
It might have been my wedding day.
But it might as well have been Romeo’s funeral.
“He’s been coloring a lot.” I changed the subject. “If he’s hungry, just get him one of the sandwiches from catering, and his coloring crayons are—”
“Eden,” Romeo interrupted me. “I’ll take care of it, just…” He didn’t have to say it.
It hung in the air between us anyway.
Just fix your makeup.
And clothes.
Put on a brave face.
Not just for my son.
But the family.
For him.
Romeo Sinacore.
Because they could never know—that Tristian hadn’t died an honorable death—but one of a rat.
How could you? My heart screamed.
How?
Betrayal hit me square in the chest as I looked away from Romeo’s perfect jawline and stared into the giant foyer mirror.
“Give me ten minutes,” I whispered to my own reflection.
Romeo stared at me through the mirror, his eyes drinking me in with an intensity that was impossible to look away from.
He nodded once and then left as Naz continued chattering on and on about how to make the perfect sandwich. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I walked down the hall, feeling more zombie than human.
I made it into the master bathroom, shut the door behind me, and then moved toward the mirror. I leaned against the porcelain sink; with shaking hands, I quickly turned on the water and splashed some onto m
y face. My makeup drawer was to the left, Tristian’s drop kit had always been on the right; we’d shared a life of perfect harmony for nearly six years.
Unless it was about Romeo.
Our last fight was one I’d never forget. I shivered at the mere thought of it.
His need to prove himself had been his downfall.
Why?
How?
What possessed him to even go down that road, knowing what he knew about the family? He made a choice and sacrificed his family in the process, and for what? Pride?
He’d been the perfect husband.
Father.
And he’d died a betrayer’s death.
Nothing made sense.
Had he been lying this entire time?
Nobody was that good—least of all, an accountant who cooked the family’s books and hosted cookouts every summer for his employees.
Not Tristian.
I was too afraid to ask Romeo for details—but I knew this, I wouldn’t want someone like Romeo after me.
They were dead before he even found them.
So I knew, regardless, Tristian’s death would be avenged because they were sending the Grim fucking Reaper after them.
And he’d send them to Hell.
With a grin on his face.
It ended up taking me longer than ten minutes to fix my makeup and change into another simple black dress.
I held my head high as I made my way out of the en suite and down the hall to where the rest of the reception was being held.
People were in shock.
Talking in low whispers.
What did this mean for The Famiglia?
Had the Russians been behind it?
The Petrov boss, Valerian, had attended the funeral and had seemed devastated at the loss. He was ruthless, but he was loyal to all the Italians, which meant it had to be someone on the inside.
I gave my head a shake; I wasn’t going to solve his murder today, or possibly ever—that was where I relied on Romeo. As much as I loathed him—he was good at his job—too good.
I made my way into the kitchen. Wine bottles lined the granite countertops.
Typical Italians.
Someone dies? We drink.
Someone’s born? We drink.
It’s a Tuesday? We drink.