Page 51 of The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)

That was the first kiss I’d had since an unmentionable dirty fed. And while a part of me was dying for more, from anyone who could sate the need inside me, the other couldn’t be more impassioned.

“That was . . . wow,” he breathed.

I tossed back the rest of the liquor. It burned away the taste of his cherry ChapStick.

“Wow, right?” he questioned.

“What?” I mumbled. “Oh, yes . . . wow.”

He grabbed my sticky, tequila-doused hand. “Give us a chance, Gianna. I’ll take you places—show you the world. There is nothing I wouldn’t give you.”

I could imagine most women would be over the moon to be in my position right now. But me? It only made me angry. Heat pricked beneath my skin.

“You don’t get it, Vincent, do you? I can’t just divorce my husband and run away with you.” I ripped my hand away and realized I had said that in rapid-fire Italian. Heaviness settled on my shoulders. I took a deep breath and tried again in English. “A divorce isn’t possible for me, Vincent.”

He swallowed, rubbed his brow in thought. “Okay. We don’t need the title then. Just . . . be with me.”

God, I wished I was less of a Tin Man. I wished all the possible love I could give hadn’t been stolen from me the first twenty-odd years of my life. I wished I was normal. Because here stood this perfect man professing his love for me, and my heart didn’t even twitch.

“My life isn’t as liberating as you must imagine, Vincent. I can’t cuckold my husband. I couldn’t promise your safety if it was found out.” I sighed sadly. “Mine either, honestly.” I was pretty sure Ace was on his final straw with me.

Vincent looked disgusted. “Your own family would hurt you?”

A light laugh escaped me, and I was surprised it wasn’t bitter. I guessed I had a better grasp on my demons than I thought. “Maybe not physically, but they could make things very unpleasant for me.” Like sending me home to Chicago . . .

He ran a hand into my hair, lightly grasping the back of my head. The physical contact had become so foreign over the years goosebumps rose on my skin.

“We can keep us a secret.”

“This isn’t Romeo and Juliet,” I said quietly, pulling his hand from my hair. “But if you push this, Vincent, we might e

nd up like them.”

I stepped around him and headed back to the deck.

My mamma’s words filled my head with a sense of melancholy and the smell of her floral perfume.

One day, you’re going to be a little heartbreaker.

What a terrible fate.

I wrestled my apartment door open, dropping my purse in the process, and then flicked on the light. The bulb in the living room popped and then faded, bathing the room in darkness.

“Oh, no, no, no,” I muttered, as my eyes drifted to the light switch in the kitchen. It sat only ten feet away, yet the distance began to stretch until it felt like a mile. My heart tripped over every beat, and I wiped my clammy hands on my swimsuit cover. You can do it, I assured myself. The dark is only an absence of light. It can’t hurt you.

I stepped forward and then froze in cold fear as the darkness morphed into a house of mirrors, reflecting every nightmare I’d ever lived through. My lungs tightened, and I took a step back.

I slid down the wall beside the door in the hall and tried to stop the shake in my hands. Pulling my phone from my purse, I called Lorenzo. It went straight to voicemail. I cursed, choosing the next contact on the list.

“What?” Luca answered.

I swallowed. “My light bulb burnt out.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I thought you were over that shit.”

“No, I was just high.”

“So save me the trouble and do a line.”