Page 97 of Bastard

Sex is the cure for everything, isn’t it?

“Is that what you do when you’re wound up?” I ask, then groan into the mattress. What a foolish thing to ask. “Wait. Don’t tell me. Please.”

There’s a long pause. “I’ve killed too many people. I’m immune to the aftermath.”

“But you said you were feeling it?”

“Yes. The cause, though, had nothing to do with killing militants. If you were hurt, killed ...”

His fingers slide free, then using my excitement, he lightly traces patterns across my ass. “Everyone except you believes I’m a cold-hearted bastard. Why would you want a future with me?”

A future. He’s discussing a future with him.

“I know better than anyone what a liar and bastard you are. I also understand why you’re the man you are. You pledged an oath to a father-figure, then did everything within your power to honor that oath. That’s how TORC came to be, no? The business you took over in Rome, one you grew into something bigger?”

He’s quiet, listening.

“But you also married me to protect me from Ignacio. Don’t tell me that had anything to do with business.”

“Yet you signed the papers.”

I blink. “For the divorce?”

“Yes.” He drags a finger across my lower back.

“The third set—I tore up the first two, remember?”

“I do.”

“Everyone has a breaking point.” I stiffen, suddenly struck by a thought. “Wait. You knew I’d put this T-shirt on. You knew we’d talk about what happened in Rome tonight.”

“Yes.”

I scramble up onto the bed and away from him, then spin around on the mattress to glare at him.

“Correct. Tonight, we’re going to leave nothing unsaid. Understand?”

My temper rises. He orchestrated how our night would go. Like I’m an enemy to conquer.

“Don’t be a coward, Luciana. Ask me anything.”

Naïve. Troubled. Foolishly in love with him. But I’m no coward. “Why did you follow me into the bathroom in Rome?”

His eyes narrow. “Would you rather it had been that asshole grinding against you all night?”

“You knocked him out, didn’t you?”

“I did what was necessary. No way was that pup getting his hands on you.”

I stiffen. “Was fucking while pretending to be a stranger necessary?”

“Unfortunately, at the time, yes.” He sits down on the edge of the bed. “Go on. What other questions do you have?”

“Why didn’t you contact me after your men cut me up in Cabo?”

He doesn’t so much as flinch. “I thought it best not to.”

I do flinch, his admission stinging. “So, you felt nothing when you learned what they did?”