Page 21 of His Little Angel

My pulse beats her name.

My thoughts aren’t thoughts anymore—just fractured pieces of Mila.

Who the fuck am I now, if not something that exists because she breathes?

Damn me. I can feel the sick, rotten Morelli curse—the one that ate my brothers whole—pulling at me now.

I don’t want it.

I don’t want to lose myself the way they did.

I don’t want to turn into the kind of man who waits for a woman’s footsteps just to inhale, who becomes blind and desperate and animal. It turns you into a shell—a servant toobsession. A man who circles one woman like she’s the only flame left, even when she wouldn’t piss on you to put you out.

The kiss was a mistake.

Letting her into my orbit was a mistake.

Touching her was a disaster waiting to happen.

Her leaving is good—it keeps the curse dormant. It means I won’t end up on my knees, worshipping her like a lunatic. It means I won’t start wars for her or tear men apart just for looking her way. Won’t kill someone for the sin of wanting what’s mine.

…Christ.

All of it feels so fucking right. But I shove it down deep enough to convince myself it was never there.

I’m meant to be alone.

A Morelli with no attachments. No woman to burn alive in the fallout of this madness. Don’t fool yourself—when we fall, we don’t become lovers.

We become monsters.

Devils.

Possessive, vicious creatures whose hands bruise without meaning to, whose love destroys whatever it touches. I refuse to be led by my dick because of one woman. Especially a woman who doesn’t feel even a fraction of this insanity for me.

So Mila can go.

She can work for whoever she wants. Fuck whoever she wants. Smile at whoever she wants.

She is free.

I don’t want her or any of this.

She can go to that oil-tycoon bastard—

Fuck.

A snarl rips out of my throat, raw enough to burn. How the fuck didn’t I see this sooner? How didn’t I notice the curse creeping in?

Maybe because she was always here—at my desk, in my space. Always mine without me ever saying it out loud. Even if it was only professional.

There was no threat. No competition. No reason to bare my teeth.

I fooled myself into thinking I had time—endless time—because she stayed. Part of me believed I could keep her forever without trying.

My brothers warned me. I thought I was different. Immune. It wasn’t that I lacked the curse. I just never felt threatened.

She was right there.