Valentino caught her chin and tipped her head back so she was forced to meet his eyes. He stared down at her, looking for the killer in her. She didn’t look away. She met his penetrating stare calmly. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t find that killer, yet she killed. Emme was extraordinary.
“Let’s shower again, Princess, and rest for a little while before we have to face the world.” Maybe if he took enough showers, he could wash some of the filth off of him.
“You have the rest of the story to tell me.”
“I’ll tell you.” He would. He wasn’t going to lose her because he had already ensured she couldn’t leave him. One way or the other, they were both trapped. Damned. He wasn’t a good man, and if she hadn’t heeded his warnings before, she would after he told her the rest of the story. He held out his hand to her.
Emmanuelle put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her up. Val pulled her into him. He needed the closeness with her. His elusive woman. She was so peculiar, always thinking he didn’t love her as much as she loved him, yet she was the one ready to run. He was fully committed to her. He always had been, almost from the moment he’d spotted her sitting across the room from him, even before their shadows had connected. Those eyes of hers.
He wrapped his arm around her and fit her under his shoulder, wincing a little because his wounds hurt like hell. He probably shouldn’t have been expending so much energy, but his dick was making all kinds of demands, and it had gone without for a long, long time. He owed it.
Emmanuelle burst out laughing and brushed her fingers over his semihard cock. “I think that connection you were talking about in your mind really is working. I caught a little bit of that. Owing your cock? Really? Maybe you said it out loud?”
“Two years was a long time to just masturbate to my memories and pictures of you, Princess. It isn’t like I let the monster have any real action. And I was investigating Miceli’s ring by that time, which took me to strip clubs. Too many to count.”
He was leaving out the part that he had to check on his family’s strip clubs or that some clubs included some darker fantasies. Had his body reacted? Hell yeah. Had he wanted another woman to get him off? To touch him? Not for one second. The thought was abhorrent. He knew those ropes wrapping around her shadow had done that to him. He hoped they’d done the same thing to her—imprisoned her shadow, but both of their bodies. He knew Emmanuelle hadn’t considered that consequence for him yet.
A little shiver went through her body as her arm went around his waist. “Did the doctor say it was okay for you to get those dressings wet?”
“No, but I brought more gauze. You can change them for me.”
She tilted her head and rolled her eyes at him. That would have to stop if any of his men were around, but he liked when she was so damn sassy all the time.
“You take a lot for granted, Val.”
“I know I do, Emme. I have to. I have to believe you love me enough to choose to stay with me. I need to believe that.” He didn’t even care if she heard the ache in his voice. She already had seen him totally vulnerable. How many ways did he have to lay it on the line for her?
The water was hot and felt good on his sore body. She was beautiful standing next to him, using some subtle-smelling gel over her body. He noticed she winced when she soaped her breasts, so he took the gel from her and cleaned her himself. “Let me, baby. I really wish I could wake this man up from the dead and kill him myself slow.” He’d had no idea he could be tender until he touched Emmanuelle’s dark bruises.
She had gorgeous curves—her breasts and hips. Her assailant had punched her deliberately on the soft tissue to inflict the most pain. The bruising was spread from the sides of her breasts, across the nipples, almost to the top of the curves and along the underside. Down lower, in the valley between her breasts, he’d gotten in at least one, maybe two more shots, spreading a dark purplish black over her skin that reached toward her ribs on either side.
“I hate that he did this to you.”
“You were shot, Valentino. These are a couple of bruises.”
Her voice. A caress, smoothing over him in that way she had. Getting inside him. Taking him apart. She had no idea that her “couple” of bruises made him want to spend hours, maybe days even, using an IV, keeping the perpetrator alive so he could make him suffer for hurting her. No, he wasn’t a good man, but if that meant sending a message to the world that no one ever lay a hand on her, that was all right with him.
“The bullets didn’t hit anything worth mentioning, Princess. I value these breasts of yours.” He tried to inject humor into his voice when he felt such rage swirling too close to the surface. They were too connected. She might feel it as well, and sometimes she looked afraid of him. He didn’t want her to ever think he would hurt her.
“I value every inch of you, honey, so try not to get shot again. Although Dario did say you were very heroic, insisting he drag your father out while you fought off an army.”
He swore, embarrassed. He might have to kick Dario’s ass, although it was damn hard to do. And he’d been shot. Maybe he’d have to give himself a little time to heal. “Don’t believe anything Dario says.”
She laughed, and he loved the sound. He caught the wet tangle of her thick hair and pulled her head back, taking her mouth. Usually fire raged between them the moment their mouths fused together, but this time it was all about tenderness. Love. Melting together. Giving her something to hang on to when he knew she would need it.
He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. “Love me back the way I love you, Emme. Enough to stay and live my life with me. It won’t be easy. I know that. I know what I’m asking. This life, my life, what you would have to put up with, but love me enough to want to stay with me. To have my children and protect them with me.”
There, with the water pouring over them, with his fucking heart hurting so bad he thought he might not survive the next few minutes, he asked her. He’d come to her knowing he had to take the shot, do his best to lay his heart on the line for her. Let her see what she was to him. If she didn’t choose him on her own, he would still have her, but it wouldn’t be good. It would hurt both of them like hell. It would turn into war. War with Emme would end in disaster.
Emmanuelle’s face went soft. Her eyes were all about love. She reached up and cupped the side of his face. “Valentino.” His name. A whisper. “You know I love you more than life itself. I would do almost anything for you.”
He heard that little word in there. Almost. She was all about loyalty. He needed that loyalty to be all about him. To belong to him. If he could show her that the Ferraros and his family, his family alone, would make tremendous allies, then she might understand there would not be conflict within her loyalties. He didn’t have all the details of what she did. He needed them to understand her dilemma. She needed more details of the Saldi story binding her as well as what he did in order to make an informed decision. Neither wanted to be too forthcoming without a full commitment. They seemed to be at an impasse.
He turned off the water and stepped out, reaching for the warm towel to dry her off first. “Keep talking, Emme. You said ‘almost.’ I want to know you’re with me. I need to know you are. We can find ways to make up our own rules. To live our lives as best we can, that way we both can be happy.”