“Where are you going?” Talia asks, looking up from her phone.
I wish nowhere.
She looks hot as hell in my T-shirt and a pair of tiny shorts as she scrolls through her phone.
“To work.”
“I want to come.”
Is she fucking serious right now?
“No,” I bark out, stalking from the room.
She huffs in exasperation and storms after me. “Kostas, stop.”
“I’m going to get answers from Estevan. It’s dangerous, Talia. Understand?”
Her nostrils flare. “Maybe I need a little danger in my life. You leave every day to go hunt badder bad guys and leave me to do what?” Her voice rises several octaves. “Watch fucking sunsets while I wait for you to come home? What century are we in?”
“Jesus, woman,” I snap. “I said no.”
She gapes at me, her blue eyes filling with tears, but anger makes her neck turn bright red. “Kostas…”
“Do you need more chocolate?”
Her lashes blink rapidly in confusion. “W-What?”
“To get over your hormones.”
She fucking attacks me. Claws bared. Hissing. A little roar of fury ripping from her. “You fucking asshole! How dare you blame this on my period!”
I catch her before she claws my eyes out and twist her around, pinning her to the wall. Her body heaves as she breathes heavily, her cheek smashed against the wall.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I demand, holding her tighter when she tries to escape.
“You!” she cries out. “You think I’m good for nothing but a good fuck or a blow job when the need arises.” A loud sob escapes her. “You don’t care about what I want, though.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“You said you wanted to go to school and I said fine—”
“You didn’t say fine,” she argues.
“And after breakfast this morning, we decided—”
“We decided nothing!”
“—that we’d go to dinner somewhere fancy—”
“I’m tired of eating and fucking and goddamn walks!”
When she starts to sob, I groan. Leaning my hips forward, I release her hand and reach up to brush her hair away from her neck. I kiss her sweaty flesh. “I’ve never been married before, Talia. I’m not good at this.”
Her body relaxes. “I’m not good at it either, but I know most normal marriages don’t work this way. The husband doesn’t lock away his bride and not expect her to go crazy from boredom.”
I nuzzle her hair with my nose. “Then what do you want to do?”
“Feel normal. Nothing about this feels normal.”
Sliding my palms to her waist, I pull away to twist her around. Her blue eyes glimmer with a myriad of emotions. “We’re not normal, Talia. You’re married to me. A fucking mobster. People hate me. People want to destroy what’s mine. You saw this firsthand at the hotel when that asshole tried to take you.”
Her brows furl together. “Staying locked up by myself all day long isn’t safe either.”
“And why not?” I demand, scowling.
“Because I can’t be happy that way. If I can’t be happy…if I don’t have family or friends…if I can’t go to school or fulfill my sense of purpose, why am I even here?”
I grip her jaw and glower at her. “What does that mean?”
“It means nothing,” she says gently. “But your mother was unhappy. Unhappiness is a poison that eventually will kill.”
As though she’s struck me, I stumble back. She lifts her chin, not backing down on her stance. I pace the floor, glaring at her. So what? She’d fucking off herself like my mother did? Because she’s fucking bored?
“We’ll talk about this later,” I snarl, stalking toward the door.
A loud crashing sound fills the room. When I glance over, I see pieces of ceramic shattered across the floor. She threw a fucking vase. At my head. Luckily for her, she missed.
“Kostas, so help me, if you walk out now…”
She doesn’t finish that statement.
“I don’t take lightly to threats.” I turn and narrow my gaze on her. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m educating you.”
“Go to fucking school. You happy?”
“In August I will be,” she says softly. “But what about now? Today?”
Thunder rumbles in the distance as though pleading her case.
“And, Kostas, so help me if you tell me to watch the storm roll in…”
I smirk. “Thunderstorms are beautiful.”
“So are long walks on the beach.” She smiles. “Maybe I want to see something not so beautiful.”
“You’re serious about going with me?”
“It sure beats sitting here by myself.”
I scrub my palm over my face. Adrian will give me his stupid little smirk when he sees I’ve given in to Talia and taken her on business. Women don’t go on business. But Adrian likes her sassy mouth, and if he were here right now, he’d probably help plead her case.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“You can go with me,” I agree. “But you listen to me. You don’t step out of line. It’s dangerous.”
She suppresses a squeal like torturing fucking Estevan is an exciting item on the honeymoon itinerary. “And then?”
“Dinner,” I growl. “I’ll take you to dinner where we can discuss whatever it is you did for enjoyment back in Italy that kept you from driving the ones around you crazy.” It would seem I need to spend a little more time getting inside that pretty head of hers that apparently runs constantly with all the things she’d rather be doing than being treated like a mafia queen who wants for nothing.
“I enjoyed pickling,” she deadpans, the corners of her lips twitching.
Cute, fucking sassy as hell girl.
“Go get dressed, smartass.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Five minutes, Talia, and I’m leaving you.”
“Fourth floor,” Adrian says from the passenger side.
Talia remains quiet in the backseat, but I can hear her fingernails tapping on her phone. I look in the rearview mirror. Her blond hair is pulled up in a neat bun. She wears a black T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. Hot as fuck wannabe bad guy killer who’s going to sit in the car and play Candy Crush. As though she senses me watching her, she lifts her big eyes to mine.
“I’m not sitting in the car,” she sasses.
I roll my eyes and Adrian chuckles.
“Give her a gun, Adrian,” I growl out. “She knows how to use one.”
“I do,” she assures Adrian.
“Yeah, I heard. Basil said you almost took out our boss.”
“Save your girl talk for later, ladies. We have an interrogation to attend. Are Felix and the team inside yet?”
Adrian nods. “They’ve staked out the whole building and have it surrounded. We have a clear shot to go inside on your call, Kostas. Room 414.”
“Let’s go,” I command, climbing out of the car and pulling out my H&K .45. The wind is whistling harder now as the storm rolls in, and rain sprinkles on my face.