Chapter 3
Three
The Present
Even though he’s dead, my hatred for Francesco Amato burns brighter than every sun in the universe. All the damage he caused. All the pain and suffering. I just hope he’s experiencing the same a thousand times over in hell. I’m glad we’re the ones who sent him there.
Aleksander doesn’t talk much about that time in his childhood, and the fact that he’s sharing that part of himself with me now only makes me love him more.
“Just so you know, I was going to say yes.”
I curve my body around his back, hugging him tightly, needing him to know that I’m right here with him, both physically and emotionally, that he’s not alone in that darkness anymore.
He flips to the next page. “I was so dazzled by you. It made me tongue-tied. My,” he shrugs a shoulder, “…you know…only made it worse.”
I wish he could see himself the way I see him.
The way Tristan, Alana, Hendrix, Constantine, and the kids see him.
When I used to look in the mirror at my scars, I would see something horrific.
Something to pity. But then I started to see them—to see myself—through the guys’ eyes.
They never saw my scars as flaws. They saw them as something beautiful.
And every part of Aleksander Stepanoff is absolutely beautiful.
I kiss the shell of his ear. “You are perfect. My perfect,” I emphasize.
The day’s growth of rough stubble tickles my cheek when he softly kisses me. “And you are my everything. Want me to read some more?” he asks, turning the page with his thumb.
I wasn’t going to push, so I’m ecstatic when he offers. “Absolutely.” I slip out from behind him, and Aleksander wraps his arm around me when I snuggle into his side and rest my head in the crook of his shoulder. “What’s this one about?”
It’s utterly endearing when he starts to blush. “The, uh…the marriage contract.”
I pinch his side. There is no give at all. His body is all defined muscle. “Oh, that little thing.”
I was so angry when I found out what my mother did, but I can’t regret it because it was the catalyst that set everything into motion. I’m a believer that things, good or bad, happen for a reason and help pave the paths we choose to travel. I don’t believe in fate, but I do believe in destiny.
Getting comfortable, I trace the E of the DEVIL inked above his knuckle before threading our fingers together, then close my eyes when I feel the vibrations inside his chest as he begins to read.