Page 25 of Darkest Craving

“I can’t answer that right now,” I say, watching her expression change into what looks like surprise, or misbelief. Or both. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

She squints her eyes. “Trust you? Just like that…?”

I admit, I expected her question to have some bite to it. But it didn’t. It’s almost as if she wants to trust me, as if all she needs is for me to say yes to that. Maybe I’m closer than I thought to owning her heart.

“Yes. Just like that, love. I think deep down you know you can.”

She opens her mouth to say something, when–

“What a small world,” a man’s voice says to my right.

I slide my eyes away from my wife to land on Luca Moretti, the Italian pianist playing at almost every party on the Upper East Side.

Wrapped around his arm is Isadora Vellin, the daughter of an investment banker notorious for engaging in insider trading with his sister-in-law.

They’re not a threat, so I’m not surprised Ivan and the rest of our men let them in without texting me first. In fact, by the look on my wife’s face, it seems like they’re quite an interesting appearance. Or, at least, Isadora is.

“Where have you been, Wolf? We rarely see you at any parties these days,” she says, fluttering her lashes at me. The hand on Luca’s arm loosens, and she keeps shifting until she’s closer to my side of the table.

Luca doesn’t seem to mind—it’s not like they’re together, not really. Nobody is a real couple in Manhattan these days.

“Busy,” I say. “Besides, they’ve always bored me. You know that.”

Isadora laughs, this time planting her entire manicured hand on my shoulder, as if to keep herself from falling over backwards. Victoria squints her eyes, her face contorting, displeased. My eyebrows rise.

Is my wife… is she jealous right now?

I watch her closely as I keep throwing random answers into the conversation I can’t seem to get rid of. She’s a little flushed, but not the horny kind. No. She’s annoyed. And the way she leans back in her chair with her arms crossed proves that.

I smile, and she throws me a murderous look.

My satisfaction vanishes instantly when I tune back into the conversation to hear Luca say—

“…at least five men who would want to take turns with her all night. She’s a pretty little thing. Would look good on camera for the world to see. Wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

My entire fucking body goes taut.

Fire licks at my veins.

I turn to look at him fully, and even Isadora steps back.

“What the fuck did you just say about my wife?”

VICTORIA

I can tell this place means something to my husband.

I wasn’t looking for threats earlier—I was looking at the middle-aged woman in the back who seemed to smile our way every chance she got. She didn’t come to us, but I figured she was the owner by the way she carried herself.

Who is she to Wolfgang? And why did he bring me here in the first place? Because in the next few seconds, he’s about to cause a massacre. And if this place really means something to him, he’ll regret doing it.

I shouldn’t care. But I think I’m coming to terms with the fact that I do. With the fact that things are exactly as he said—my husband is my only ally right now.

Sasha can’t help me. My parents can’t—won’t. So I might as well make the best of what I have.

I look at him, rounding my eyes at the corners. Dipping my chin. A silent plea for him not to do what he’s about to do. It’s not the place, nor the time.

When he watches me, I don’t fail to notice the anger simmering there, behind those whiskey-colored irises. It makes them burn that much brighter.

“Wolf…” I say, carefully, then shake my head.

The man who came to our table stands quietly, awaiting a response to the disgusting things he said about me. Did it bother me? Honestly, not really. Because something tells me my husband would never do that in a million years. His possessiveness knows no limits. His rage doesn’t either.

“Don’t,” I tell him again.

Relief washes out of me when he smiles. “Anything for you, love.”

My heart skips a beat. Does he really mean that?

Then it all happens so quickly, I practically have no time to scream or react. Neither does the woman standing nearby.

The man’s hand is dragged onto the table forcefully. Wolf holds it in place, picking up a knife with the other one. And in the next second, the white tabletop is stained in blood. The hand is pinned to the wood, the knife’s handle sticking out of his crushed skin and tendons.

Quietly, as if he knows better than to make a scene, the man cries out. And shakes. Regrets every word he spilled from his mouth. “M-My hand. My hand…”

I sit in horror, watching him cry. In our brutal world, I’ve never seen a grown man do that.

Wolfgang presses down on the knife. “My sweet little wife here asked me not to kill you, so I won’t. But what I’ll do, Luca, is give you a warning. If you ever disrespect her again like that, I’ll take your other hand too. See who hires you then.”

I look behind my shoulder at the owner now staring at us. At the scene we’ve caused. She approaches, and when I look back at Wolf, his knife is back on the bloodied table.

“Mariette,” he says, “Please accept my apologies for the mess. Send our order and bill to the hotel suite upstairs. We’re leaving.”

Mariette shakes her head in disbelief. Wolf’s men come in to clean up the mess and take Luca back outside.

The woman he’s with continues to stare at my husband for a second too long.

“You can leave now,” I tell her, and although she scoffs, she complies.

Getting up, Wolf extends his hand toward me. I take it, and it’s warm—a stark contrast to his cold, cold heart with which he slashed Luca’s hand. When I stand in front of him, he draws me into his hard body. Right here, next to this bloodied table, in front of all these people. What is he thinking?

My pulse picks up. “If you kiss me… everyone will know.”

“Know what, love?” he murmurs. “That I want you?” He strokes my chin, his eyes darting down to my mouth. His head tilts to my ear, where he places a kiss so soft it sends a shiver down my spine. “That you’re mine?”

His mouth finds mine, his hand going to the back of my head, fisting my hair, pulling me close until my lungs ache for air. The kiss is gentle, but hard at the same time. He licks inside my mouth, bites my lower lip, and makes a complete mess of me.

I don’t know how long it lasts. All I know is that when he’s done with me… I’m not the same woman he brought into this restaurant.