by Robinson, M.
“Naz?” I rounded the corner and nearly choked on my tongue as Romeo sat at Naz’s little Fisher-Price dinner table, his knees knocking the cheap plastic, red crayon in hand. Naz stuck his tongue out between his lips in concentration as they both colored in silence.
“Uncle Romeo, why do you use red all the time?”
“Oh, I’m sure one day you’ll know…” Romeo smirked and then held it up. “Trade you for the pink?”
Naz stared at the red, then at the pink in his hand. “No deal.”
“I’ll up it by one green.” Romeo dug around the crayon box and pulled out a green.
“I love green!” Naz held out his hand. “Pleeeeeease?”
“Please, what?”
Naz rolled his eyes. “Please, favorite uncle?”
“There it is.” Romeo handed him the green, then took the pink and started adding to whatever masterpiece he was working on.
Naz started scribbling something and looked over. “Mama! Where were you? I looked! I got scared, and then Uncle Romeo said you needed to put on lipstick!”
Leave it to Naz to be the only human in existence capable of putting a smile on my face during my husband’s funeral reception. “Uncle Romeo was right,” I pointed to my mouth. “What do you think?”
“Pretty,” Naz giggled; his jet-black hair fell around his ears, his clear blue eyes were identical to his fathers; it was ridiculous how gorgeous he was at five years old.
Ridiculous and terrifying.
“Do I get kisses then?” I knelt.
“Only two.” Naz crossed his arms. “Because I’m a man now.”
“True.” I winked and pointed to my cheek.
He reached up with his grubby hands and held my head, then kissed my cheek twice. “Okay, Uncle Romeo’s turn!”
My eyes widened in horror.
Romeo’s coloring crayon broke in half falling from his fingertips and rolling onto the ground.
Was he thinking about it too?
That night so long ago.
Where I’d finally snapped.
Getting shot would hurt less than the words Romeo had said to me. I would never forgive him for stealing my heart and then, in one fell swoop, breaking it in half like it meant nothing to him.
He didn’t know I hadn’t slept with Tristian yet.
Just like he didn’t know how he took more than my heart that night. One day I would show him the damage. One day it would be impossible not to.
“Um, buddy.” Panicked, I forced a smile. “Uncle Romeo doesn’t give Mama kisses, silly.”
Naz frowned up at me. “Course he does, he gives Nana kisses, and Papa, and he gave Daddy kisses on his cheeks sometimes, Daddy says it’s r-r-resp—” He stopped talking. “It’s responsible?”
“Respectful,” I corrected before I realized I was agreeing with him by correcting him.
Perfect.
“Yeah! Dad said so! He’s in Heaven with Uncle Louis now, and he’s watching. Don’t make Dad sad, Mama.”
Motherfucker.
I half expected Romeo to repeat, yeah, don’t make Dad sad. Instead, he’d completely paled like the idea of kissing me on the cheek was right up there with a beheading.
Seriously?
I smiled at Naz and slowly walked over to Romeo.
He stood, part of the broken crayon still in hand.
“See?” Naz grinned. “You’re making Dad happy now!”
Romeo coughed under his breath. “Not so sure about that…” And before I could stop him, his full mouth was pressed against my cheek, once, twice.
I was lost all over again.
To the man who had loved me only to destroy me.
To the man that had fucking given me to his brother like a consolation prize.
It was over before it even really started, but the linger of his lips felt like a branding on my body—my soul.
And something told me this was just the beginning of the carnage he would leave in his wake because how could he not?
He was Romeo Sinacore.
His brother had been my best friend.
And by marrying him…
I’d lost my soul mate.
“Yay, Uncle Romeo!” Naz did a little cheer. “Does that mean Dad gets to come back now?”
I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped between my lips.
“Little man.” Romeo got down to his level. “I know it seems that kisses are magic and while powerful—sometimes even the best kisses can’t bring back those that we love. Right now, your daddy’s in Heaven, and he’s gonna stay there a bit, but that doesn’t mean you should stop kissing your mama; it just means you need to kiss her more since your daddy can’t right now, all right? You see, she’s going to miss his kisses, and now that you’re the man of the house, he’s handed you that job; you’re such a big boy that he thought you could handle it, so you think you can do it? Can you give your mama kisses for your daddy? You know she was his soul mate, right?”
I winced; I couldn’t help it. Those words stung.
“What is a soul mate?”
“It’s when you meet your other half. The person you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with.”
“Oh… so who’s your soul mate, Uncle Romeo?”
I winced yet again, and so did Romeo. However, he quickly recovered while I stood there, frozen in the spot I was standing in. Wanting him to continue. To answer Naz’s question. To make me feel something when I felt nothing.
“I don’t have a soul mate, Little Man.”
I jerked back, winded.
“Why not?” Naz questioned with his eyebrows raising, reminding me so much of his father.
“Because you have to have a heart to have a soul mate.”
“Well, then maybe Mama can be your soul mate now that Daddy is gone?” His little hand scratched his head, and I swear my heart was beating out of my chest.
Pounding.
Thrashing.
Proving that I wasn’t dead after all, from my husband’s untimely death.
I was alive, with my heart in Romeo’s hand.
Naz excitingly shouted, “Mama has a heart, a huge one! Maybe her heart can be your heart too?”
Naz and Romeo had always had a special relationship. A strong bond between them. I think a big part of that was Romeo knowing he’d never have children of his own, so he made sure he was the best uncle to his brother’s kid.
Or at least that was what I told myself…
I couldn’t wait for Romeo to answer Naz and hurt me more than he already had.
Getting down to his level, I chimed in, “Naz, a soul mate is someone your heart belongs to, not just someone who is in your heart.”
He eyed me curiously, trying to follow along with what I meant.
“One day.” I ruffled his hair. “When you’re older you will understand the difference.”
I could feel Romeo’s heat burning a hole in my back. He didn’t like my response, and he wasn’t trying to hide that fact. I silently cheered.
Good.
Take that, asshole.
I felt the loss of his emotions the minute he walked away from us.
I felt it in my soul.
Twisting in my gut as he walked away to join the others.
I barely survived his indifference the first time.
I wouldn’t survive him twice.
The only way to protect my heart was to let him go along with Tristian.
I was officially done with the Sinacore brothers.
My best friends.
My family.
Because loving them only ever brought pain.
In every aspect of my life.
CHAPTER NINE
“If you have a gun you can rob a bank, but if you have a bank you can rob anyone.” —Black Mask
Romeo
Then: The wedding day
I had no words to describe her as she floated down that aisle. In the sickest, darkest part of my mind, she was walking toward me, smiling at me, minutes away from
saying she was mine. Taking those vows and uttering them for the world to hear.
And yet… I knew.
Those footsteps only led toward him.
That smile? Wasn’t for the sinner standing next to the saint.
I rubbed the back of my neck. The scratches from her nails were still there, ugly, raw, red, and like the sick fuck I was, I left them full-on display. Wearing them like a badge of honor. Was it selfish to want something today? Anything that showed that I had a part of Eden’s heart that he would never get? Fuck it, she was marrying him, at least give me the blood, the tears, the pain, give me the sin over and over again—let me have one fucking thing.
“Nervous?” I asked as the music started.
My brother shot me a knowing grin only to have it falter when his eyes flickered to the side of my neck and back again. “Not really. Because today…she’s mine.”
“Lucky man.” The words tasted like acid. If only he knew that my cock had been inside her less than twelve hours ago, her thighs wrapped around my legs, shouting she was going to come over and over again from her lips.
Would he feel the same? If he knew that the love of his life was divided in two, wanting but knowing it could never be me?
He was a motherfucking consolation prize. And never had I felt so much jealousy in my entire existence.
Her smile was bright, her strapless white dress nearly indecent as it shimmered in the morning light streaming through the colored glass of the St. Mary’s Cathedral, the lace train pooled behind her. I clenched my fists at my sides as she walked arm and arm with her father, a man I loved.
Admired.
Respected.
A man who looked so fucking pleased that his only daughter was marrying into the Sinacore family. And I had to ask myself, why him? Why not me?
Because you’d break her until there was nothing left of her. And she’d forgive me until there was nothing left of me. Killing whatever love was left between us.
The music started.
The violins picked up as the doors suddenly opened, and there she was.
Stunning.
Breathtaking.
Mine.
I clutched my fists.
This was supposed to end differently.
That smile.
That body.
That mouth.
All of her.
Was mine.
Instead, she was walking toward him.
The only comfort I had was the sick knowledge that while my brother slept—I’d been deep inside her, claiming her, marking her. And he could never take that away from her, from us.
Everyone stood.
She kept her head high as she held on to her father’s arm, and when she finally made it to the altar, all I could think about was sinning some more with her.
Fucking her against the altar.
In front of God.
Our family.
My brother.
Licking up and down those thighs, sucking her until she screamed my name in an unholy confession.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” the priest questioned.
“Her mother and I,” her father answered with a wide smile and tears in his eyes. Slowly, he lifted the simple lace veil over her head and kissed her cheek. The same cheek I’d wanted to assault with my mouth, right next to the neck I’d kissed and licked as I’d held her captive against the wall last night.
I tried to shove the thoughts away.
And then she lifted her hand to her father’s face, and I saw the marks on her creamy skin.
I clenched my jaw so fucking tight my teeth hurt. A slight blue bruise was present on her wrist. They were my fingertips, my assault, my claim.
Today she would marry my brother with the imprint of my hands on her body, and because I was a sadistic son of a bitch, I smiled. At least I was given that.
A gift.
A reward.
A fucking reason to not scream from the rooftops that I had been balls deep inside of her in the wee hours of the morning.
Our sin.
Our love.
Our bodies coming together as one was blatant for all to see.
My salvation was being with her at least once before she was given to another.
I did that.
I handed her over.
I lost her and gave her to my brother.
Knowingly, she would give her body, her soul to him, but she would know, the entire time, that I had her first, I broke her first. And he could never take that away from us.
From me.
Let him have the happy ending because I’d had the fucking beginning.
Time stood still as she turned and took Tristian’s hand in hers. He preened like a goddamn peacock as he pulled her to his side and faced the priest.
And me? I simply smiled at them both since this was it, wasn’t it? At least I’d tasted. I’d bitten. I’d swallowed. I’d sinned. I’d never be saved.
Who would want salvation after tasting the sweetest sin?
The ceremony was a blur as the priest droned on, and when it was time for the vows, I found I was holding my breath, watching, waiting for her to say she couldn’t do this; I half expected her to lose her nerve, but when she opened her mouth.
It wasn’t my name that fell from her lips.
It was his.
She said it twice.
“Tristian…” A full smile. My body gave an involuntary flinch. “Tristian.”
My fingers twitched at my sides. I held my breath.
Once again waiting.
Wanting.
Yearning.
“My vow is simple, my promise to you.” She lifted her chin, her eyes clear, her conscience black as mine. “From this day forward… I’m yours.”
I hated her in that moment.
Despised her to the core of my being.
Traitor.
Cheater.
Whore.
She promised him the one thing I wanted, and she said it so simply, with such purity amidst the chaos we’d created, we’d participated in, that I wanted to seethe from the inside out.
It was as if she was reminding me by claiming him, as she said from this moment on.
And our moment was yesterday.
She was saying it would never happen again.
Had she shot me, it would have hurt less.
I knew this was my doing. I was the one who told her to marry him. I had rejected her. What else did I expect? I was being irrational, and knowing that I was didn’t stop the emotions that were surging to not come.
“Tristian?” The priest grinned over at my brother.
Tristian reached up and pressed his palm directly over the bruises on her wrist, then lifted that same wrist to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss across my mark.
Across my claim.
Motherfucker.
CHAPTER TEN
“Be the hero, they will notice the bad. Be the villain, they will notice your good.” —Joker
Romeo
His gesture may have been subtle to the room full of people in attendance, but I knew better.
Did he know?
Assume?
“From this day forth,” Tristian kissed the bruising again and then flipped her hand over, bringing it to his face, cupping his cheek. “I will always be yours. Forsaking family, forsaking all others, you own me, body, mind, and soul.”
My breath hitched as she smiled up at him like she was seeing him for the first time, her eyes filled with tears, her hand pressed against his face.
She mouthed, “I love you,” sufficiently killing something in the depths of my soul as he mouthed it back.
I had to look away.
I had no choice.
She was killing me.
This was killing me.
Their love.
Their holy union.
Their fucking matrimony.
It was all dragging me to the ground, burying me alive.
The priest kept talking,
and I found I couldn’t tear my focus away from her wrist or the way she would rub it self-consciously like she could rub the sin away.
The mistake.
The regret.
The memory.
Me.
“I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Tristian Sinacore.” The old priest beamed. “You may now kiss your bride!”
Tristian wasted no time in pulling Eden into his arms; his mouth slammed down onto hers with near violence as she parted her lips and welcomed him into her.
Just like she would tonight.
Just like she’d done to me last night.
He’d be inside her.
He’d be pleasuring her.
Would she scream his name while dreaming of mine? Or was this really the end? Part of me needed it to be the end, while another sinister part said it was just the beginning of my obsession with her need.
I kept my eyes trained on the happy couple, my hands folded behind my back, my smile frozen on my face as Tristian pulled away, only to change his mind and press another kiss to her mouth; he lingered there in that sensual space that existed after two mouths meet and decide they want to do it again only to tease one another with each breath before one of them leans in once more.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Her eyes lit up with joy. “I love you too.”
He lifted her into his arms, facing the congregation amidst cheers, whistling, and then walked down the aisle while she laughed.
I clenched my teeth and followed the rest of the wedding party out, careful to keep a slight smile of amusement teasing my lips when, in reality, I wanted to die inside.
I couldn’t decide which one of us had given the final blow that destroyed whatever was left between us.
Was it when they kissed?
Was it when he touched her bruises?
Was it when she told him she loved him?
Or was it the night before when I told her I didn’t love her?
I’d been a bystander to my own death and destruction, and the pain was still burning alive inside me, threatening to spill over into a war of chaos where my white flag was up.
I surrendered.
Gave up.
Game over.
No do-overs.
No second chances.
No love for me.
Not in this life.
With a curse, I left the church lobby and went into one of the Sunday school rooms. I’d left my Glock hidden so I wouldn’t have to explain to the priest why I was packing next to the communion table. It was one of the first times in years where I’d actually chosen not to wear my gun.