Page 140 of Scorned Beauty

“I’m not. You figured out I can handle your overbearing ass.”

He moved closer. “Yes. I believe in you. I’m not hiding you anymore?—”

“You’ve proven that by taking me to the gala?—”

“And I love you.”

“I…” What did I say to that? “Are you sure?”

Irritation slashed through his face even when my whole body lit up with elation. I was afraid to believe that this beautiful man chose me. He could have anyone. A beautiful heiress, a virgin bride, someone younger who could give him heirs with impeccable bloodlines. Who wasn’t stubborn as hell and could be a meek mafia wife. But he wanted me. The messed-up former cleaner for the mob.

Bianca’s voice echoed in my head.

You deserve this.

I deserved this. What happened to flipping the script? Obviously, mentally, I still needed work, but I was more open and trusting. These past few weeks, constant self-reflection had been a morning routine and I no longer woke up desolate but hopeful. My scarred heart had healed from all the pain we inflicted on each other. I wasn’t innocent in this. I never had been. But because we set rules in our affair, we never fully trusted each other.

I erased the distance between us and invaded Dom’s space. His eyes flared with heat, making his tux jacket I was still wearing heavy. Shrugging it off, I stepped closer. “I need a little more patience.”

“I can be as patient as you need. Spin on your thoughts all you want, I’ll be patient,” he said, tone guttural. “I don’t have to fuck you, but please, Firecat, don’t send me away. I can’t bear it. I need to be in your orbit. Sleep beside you. Watch you sleep.”

My fingers traced the shadows underneath his eyes. “That sounds stalkerish.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Ihavebeen your stalker.”

Then I remembered his evasiveness earlier. “You never fucked without a condom.”

His arms wrapped around me, locking me in as if he was afraid I would run away. “And there will be nothing between us from now on. Be on birth control if you have to, but know there’s nothing I want more in my life than having children with you.”

“I have?—”

“Listen to me,” he persisted. “I understand hopes and dreams more than anyone else. I’m not gonna stand in your way, but also understand that I was heartbroken when we lost our baby. I—” He let me go and walked to the tall windows with a view to the Manhattan skyline. “Grigori is dead.”

“Wh-what?”

He turned to face me. His face a blank mask. Inscrutable. Cold. “He died of radiation poisoning. He traded you to Margo for medical care.”

“Oh my God.” I clasped my throat.

Dom’s eyes narrowed to where my hand was and he clenched his jaw. “I haven’t found Anton yet, but that fucker, Boris, is dead. I tortured him in a basement and killed him after I found out he was responsible for your miscarriage.”

He relayed the news in a flat voice devoid of emotion, far from the man who declared that he loved me.

Blood drained from my head and pooled somewhere in the vicinity of my toes, causing me to sway. Dom stalked toward me, guided me to a chair, and dropped to his knees in front of me. The pain of losing the baby had slowly faded. Maybe because I’d never confirmed the pregnancy until I lost it. I’d never angsted over it. Never hoped. The loss hit me all over again, but the feeling was muted. I was conflictingly horrified that I relished the death of the men who hurt me. With a palm over my lower belly, I whispered, “Would it make me a terrible person to be relieved that they’re dead?”

“No. Then that would mean I’m evil. Do you believe I’m evil?”

I smiled faintly. “You’re not the one who’s going to be a nurse to save lives and not celebrate the ending of them.”

“If you believed in the greater good, then it’s a blessing to be rid of Grigori and Boris.”

“Greater good hits differently when dealing with the mafia. It’s more like the lesser evil.”

Dom laughed briefly at this. “True.” He clasped my hands to get my full attention, giving them an extra squeeze. “Then you’ll understand why I need you to let me do what’s best for your safety. You would not be in a relationship with a nine-to-five husband working in a corporation.”

A burst of laughter passed my lips. “Husband?”

“Why mince words? That’s where we’re heading.” His mouth settled into a wry smile. “As much as I hated how Margo manipulated the events leading up to the gala, I couldn’t fault her clever machinations that led to this point.”