Page 35

She sighs contentedly. I tilt her chin up and lift my head so I can see her face again. "Who hurt you? And I don't mean your scars."

A shadow flitters over her perfect, classic features. "It doesn't matter."

She doesn't pretend not to understand me. She knows I'm asking about the men in her life—the men who made her feel less than she is.

"A woman like you should be worshipped every hour of every day. Now, give me their names."

Alarm spreads over her features, "You're not going to kill them, are you?"

Actually, that’s exactly my plan, but as I don't want to upset her or lie to her, I keep quiet.

"Antonio?"

"Their names, my little passerotta."

A small smile plays along her lips, begging me to kiss them. I lean forward, and she pushes up until I can worship her, just like I told her she should be worshipped.

My cock responds to her instantly; just the memory of how tight… "Are you sore?" I need to know.

She nods, "A little."

I sigh, deflated, but there is nothing more important to me than making sure she recovers. Her tight little pussy will have to get used to me, and it might take a few days.

Now it's me grinning—a few days of utter bliss.

"Their names?" I push again. "I'll find out either way."

"They didn't hurt me. Not physically. They just couldn't deal with the scars." She tries to downplay what those cocksuckers did to her psyche. And there was more than one. I'm sure of it. I hate the thought of someone else having touched her, but I'm not naïve. She's a beautiful woman, and I'm sure many men have tried to win her over.

I arch an eyebrow at her.

"Don't kill them," she pleads, and a new emotion rises in me, one I've always laughed at. One I thought myself immune to: jealousy.

"Do you still care for them?" My brows knit together. I will kill them slowly.

She shakes her head, "Not at all. Still, they don't deserve to die. Please, Antonio, don't put that on my conscience."

I keep forgetting that my little passerotta is a civilian. Honor in her world is just a word, whereas it meanseverythingin mine. I'm honor-bound to make these twostronzospay. But…

"I promise I won't kill them," I finally say because I can tell it weighs on her heavily.I might castrate the bastards, but I don't need to tell herthat.

"Roberto Webster and Les Stock," she whispers.

"Thank you." I kiss the top of her head, and she snuggles back in. While she slowly drifts off, my mind fills with plans of revenge.

As if sensing I was planning his demise, my phone rings, and Scarlet stirs. With a curse, I stare at Bruce's number. "Your dad."

Instantly, she sits up, wide awake, holding out her hands. "Please, can I talk to him?"

Since I'm in the mood to kill the bastard and don't trust what I would say to him, I hand her the phone.

"Daddy?"I cry.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Hearing his voice brings tears of joy to my eyes.

"Yes, yes, I am. Don't worry about me." Saying these words out loud, I realize that I am more than okay, but I don't need him to know why. Guilt still pokes at me, so I tell him again, "Daddy, I'm so sorry." Next to me, Antonio frowns.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart."