Page 78 of The Mafia Marriage Contract

Need.

I suck in a breath too late.

Shit.

What did I just say?

He steps closer, towering over me now, tension rolling off his body. “You do belong right here, beside me, Livvie.”

“No, I don’t.” I shake my head, chest heaving. “Forget I said anything.”

But the damage is done. He knows now.

Kingston’s eyes flare like gasoline catching fire, his grip on my hip tightening for a beat longer.

“You will never go near that fucker again,” he says, the order slow, like he’s carving the words into my mind. “Stay the fuck away from him. And if he comes near you, I’ll cut his fucking throat, baby. Understood?”

I flinch at the truth in that. Because itisthe truth.

And that terrifies me more than any gun to my head ever could.

I shove his chest hard, creating space between us. My voice is stronger now, laced with venom to hide the shake beneath.

“I make my own decisions. You don’t get to tell me what to do.Understood?” I glare at him. “Keep your hands off me.”

His expression darkens. He doesn’t move immediately, just studies me with that unreadable, infuriating gaze.

“You sure about that, wife?” he murmurs, his voice mocking now. “Because you sound conflicted.”

“I’m not conflicted,” I lie, my stomach twisting as I take a step back. “I’m just not fucking desperate and I don’t appreciate being controlled.Give me space, Kingston.”

I spin on my heel, needing distance, my violin,anythingto cool the wildfire roaring in my chest.

Behind me, Kingston’s presence looms, always there, always watching.

I tell myself I have to get a grip and think clearly, because if I don’t, if I let myself fall for the man I’ve been ordered to kill…

It won’t just be my heart that breaks.

It’ll be my soul.

But could I actually go through with it?

24

KINGSTON

The elevator ride to Bronx’s condo is long enough for my pulse to finally settle, but not nearly long enough to quiet the fucking noise in my head. Livvie’s scent still clings to my skin, equal parts perfume and poison. That mouth of hers, those lies.

And that fucking asshole Roman.

That bastard is a cockroach that refuses to be killed. He’s back again, crawling out of the shadows to infect what I thought Livvie and I were building.

But I was an idiot for defending her, for believing our marriage had the making of something real when he called and she went running. After everything. After all the warnings. After the truth I’ve given her.

I flex my fingers, my knuckles still raw from punching the wall when she stormed out of the room. I didn’t go after her. Couldn’t. Because I would’ve either dragged her back by her hair or kissed her until we burned the whole damn penthouse down. And I’m not sure which I wanted to do more.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. I step into the corridor, my boots silent on the black carpet. Bronx opens the door before I knock, a cigarette between his lips, eyes already scanning me like he’s assessing damage.