Page 31 of Tortured Hearts (Marchesi Empire #2)

With a low growl, he grips the back of my thigh and hitches it around his hip. He tugs at his jeans, then I feel him fist his cock. “What do you want?”

“I want the criminal, the liar…”

“The arsonist,” he takes over, sliding the smooth head of his cock through my wetness as my back hits the wall. “The killer. The extortionist. The villain.”

“I want all of them.” I kiss him, tasting him, myself, and this fucked-up obsession that damns us both. “I want you .”

With that, Gianni becomes unhinged, driving into me with one powerful thrust. He fucks me with his hate, his rage, and every broken piece of us that never had the chance to be. I don’t just feel him inside me; I feel him in my soul.

I drop my chin, watching his cock slide in and out of me, and for the first time, it doesn’t feel like possession.

It feels like rebirth. He’s fueling me by replacing my blood with fire.

His thrusts become frantic, the power behind them forcing me onto my toes as he chases a release that will obliterate us both.

I grip his shoulders, my vision blurring as his hand tightens around my throat.

I choke out his name again as a third orgasm consumes me.

The strangled sound pushes him over the edge.

He pumps harder, faster, rougher… But tension can only stretch so far before it snaps, and with one last slam of his hips, Gianni throws his head back, coming violently in an unholy roar of my name and broken Italian.

Then silence.

The high fades, sending reality crashing down around us. I wrap my arms around his neck, desperately holding him against me . Fire is powerful, but it’s no match for a storm. Once I let go, our candle will blow out. He’ll slip through my fingers, and we’ll go back to being predator and prey.

His body shifts, and I tighten my grip. “Don’t.”

“I have to go, cara mia .” Gently, he untangles my arms and pulls out, rivulets of cum dripping down the inside of my thigh. I watch, breathless, as he guides the stream back up my leg with his finger and pushes it inside me.

“What’s going to happen to me?” I ask softly.

My dress falls down my legs as he steps back and tucks himself into his jeans, a distant look in his eyes.

“I’ve delivered death almost as many times as I’ve faced it.

I’ve loved, and I’ve lost, but the moment I saw those flames engulf your building, I finally knew fear.

It punched a hole in my fucking chest and brought me to my knees.

I’ll do whatever it takes to never feel that again.

” My heart splinters as he fights for the rawest words I’ve ever heard from him.

“You make me weak because there’s nothing I fear more in this world than watching you leave it. ”

That’s when I realize the true meaning of a hero-laced devil. It’s a man who dwells in darkness, choosing violence over morality. A man with a sliver of humanity he keeps buried. A man who’d raze the world for the one brave enough to see it.

“That isn’t weakness, Gianni.”

He flashes me that slow, self-assured smirk. “Maybe in your world.”

I sigh. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Put up walls just as I knock them down.”

He opens his jacket, revealing the gun holstered at his waist. “Because you can’t seem to comprehend there are bullets on the other side of it.”

I’m about to acquaint him with Freud’s theory on guns and the male anatomy when he reaches into his pocket and pulls out an expensive-looking man’s watch. I recoil, something about it setting me on edge. But Gianni grabs my wrist, his stare like granite as he holds it between us.

I try to swallow the conflicting emotion bubbling in my throat, only for it to come spewing out. “I ask for freedom, and you bring me a watch?”

“I asked for trust, cara mia . Are you denying me already?”

“But what does a watch have to do with…?” At his narrowed gaze, I round my lips and exhale. “Right, trust . Okay, thanks, I guess.”

Silence devours the room as Gianni wraps the band around my wrist. Once he snaps it in place, we both stare down at it. “I’ll always come for you,” he promises, slipping his hand back into his pocket.

“What’s going to happen to us ?”

Lifting his other hand, he brushes the back of his knuckles across my cheek. “My beautiful phoenix.”

He avoided the question.

“Gianni, I…” The words die on my tongue as he tips my head back and drags his lips slowly up my neck. Don’t let me go. Want me. Protect me. Love me. I whimper, silently begging him to force the words out of me when I feel his hand slide up my waist.

“Up the stairs to the right, there’s a back entrance,” he whispers, his mouth trailing across my chin. Skimming his fingers down the inside of my arm, he taps his index finger against the band around my wrist. “The second this hits midnight, unlock the door and run.”

I’m a raw and overwhelmed bubbling cauldron of emotion. Maybe that’s why instead of asking the obvious, I point out the irrelevant. “Midnight isn’t the Devil’s hour.”

His jaw tics, and for a sickening moment, I fear he’s already shut down. However, just as my vision starts to blur, he meets my watery stare. “Angels don’t belong in Hell, cara mia .”

He may as well have reached inside my chest and ripped out my heart.

“I don’t?—”

“No matter what happens, don’t look back, Becca,” he orders, a layer of ice coating that velvety tone. “Promise me.”

Everything in me screams to deny him. No one demands a blind promise for a happy outcome. But if this is the end for us, I’d rather whisper a lie than argue the truth.

“I promise.”

I watch as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a card. Flipping it between his fingers, he tucks it into my bra. “ Scusami se sono così.” With a final kiss on my neck, he turns to leave.

I glance down. “What the hell is this?”

Pausing at the base of the stairs, he tilts his chin over his shoulder. “The ultimate fuck you.”