Chapter 7
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ANASTASIA
Am I dreaming?
No, I can’t be. My dreams are never this kind to me, and he looks older now.
So much older than I remember.
This isn’t the same boy I met nine years ago. No, this is a man — built strong and steady with muscle packed upon muscle. Even the hands gripping my wrists feel aged. All calloused and rough like they detail a lifetime’s worth of pain.
I stare up at him, outstretching my fingers to touch his skin and yet he doesn’t dissolve or fade like a memory would.
Sometimes I become so lost in them that they feel real, but this is different.
This time he’s not leaving me.
My fingers brush that same Grecian nose, drifting up towards caramel eyes with those golden flecks that spark as his soft lips tilt up. Lifting on my toes, I feel my feet slip out of my heels in an effort to be closer to him.
His hands leave my wrists, moving down to grip my waist instead. I suck in a harsh breath at the way his fingers sink into my skin like the indents he made before never left.
“Impossible,” I murmur, our gazes locked.
Then he jerks forwards, knocking all of the air out of my chest as he presses his forehead against mine. “Mi amore.” My love.
Suddenly I’m transported back nine years. That same endearment is whispered into my ear as he sinks his cock into me, coaxing me towards a climax that still haunts me today.
It’s like a rush of cold water yanking me back to the present.
My palms meet his hard chest as I shove him back. I catch him off guard and he stumbles, falling back against one of the wooden tables. Before I can register what’s happening, I’m slamming my fist into his jaw.
Fuck that hurt .
What the hell is he made of? Marble?
“Miss Romano,” Declan grabs my waist in an attempt to pull me back, but I’m lost to the white hot rage that blinds me as I claw myself free to lunge at the bastard again.
He takes it.
Letting me hit him again and again until exhaustion settles inside of my chest and agony takes over instead.
Declan manages to get a grip on my shoulder and tugs me towards the exit. I barely spare him a glance, stepping over his legs like he’s nothing to me.
He is nothing.
“I’m sorry Miss Romano. I was about to intercept but you looked intimate…like you knew each other.” We did. Once upon a time.
Declan hands me the purse that I must have dropped and pushes open the door for me. I glance back at the waiter who appears barely fazed by how feral I just turned. Instead, he continues to dry glasses and restock them on the shelves, like it’s just every other day
Maybe he pulls this is the kind of shit he pulls with every girl he’s used and discarded like trash?
“Anastasia, wait.” He calls out, finally picking himself up off the floor .
I force myself to look ahead, stepping down the two stairs it takes to reach the pavement. It would be so easy to just get into the car and drive away. Leaving the past behind me where it belongs and yet…
“Anastasia,” I glance back. God, why did I do that? He’s so beautiful in the daylight, so much more real. “Just ten minutes,”
I should ignore him and slam the door in his face. Because what he did to me, I’ll never let anyone do again.
But he’s Mr Mancini. He’s the man that I stupidly drunk called, the man with the only offer that can save me and the company from drowning.
Sighing, I decide to put my mask back on, painting myself void of human trivialities like emotion. “Ten minutes.”
Declan steps forward. “But Miss—”
“Just stay here, okay. I’ll be fine.” He’s trained to protect me, to put my best interests first but it must be something in my voice that forces him to hang back even if it torments him to do so.
This time I choose the table.
Brushing past him, I aim for the window seat. Sunlight filters in from behind and Declan has a clear shot in case anything goes wrong .
I slide in first, expecting him to sit opposite me but instead, he plants his ass down right beside me, trapping me between his large frame and the wall.
He cocks his head, eyes running up and down my body before finally landing back on my face. “I don’t want to give you another excuse to run away.”
I narrow my gaze, attempting to push him back but I can barely move my arms. There’s no way these seats are made for people his size . “Or punch you.”
A deep laugh vibrates from his chest, igniting those same flutters I felt in my stomach when we called. “I always knew you packed a strong punch, I just never expected to be on the other side of it.”
“Well piss me off and that’s what you get.”
He’s bleeding. Good .
Silence stretches between us, weighing heavy yet neither of us try to break it. What the hell do I even start off with?
A million questions burn in the back of my throat just screaming to come out.
“You’re wearing stockings.” My gaze drops down to the knee-high lace I decided to put on at the last minute. He seems enraptured by them. “You never mentioned the stockings,” His large hand reaches out, squeezing my thigh to stretch out the thin lace.
I wince for a moment at the pressure and he pulls back, concern flaring in his gaze. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, it’s just…old bruises.” I tug the dress down, now ridden up and exposing the faint bruises that still remain from my last tryst.
He clenches his jaw. “Who did this to you?”
I watch as his nostrils flare, lighting the violence that sparks in his eyes. Laughter escapes my throat as I hide the bruises from view again and realize that he actually has the audacity to pretend to care.
“Please no-one touches me unless I want it and trust me it was worth the pain.” The lie slips so easily from my tongue. I wonder if it was this easy for him all those years ago? “I don’t even know what to call you. Leone or Enzo?”
I watch his gaze soften. “Can we start over? My name is Enzo Leone Mancini.” He offers me his hand to shake. I ignore it.
“So, Leone was always your middle name? I’m guessing you prefer it as well. I mean you could have chosen any other to hide yourself behind.” He almost flinches as I throw the truth back at his face. “So Enzo, any other lies you want to confess? ”
He scoffs, pinning me with those smoky quartz eyes. “Don’t pretend to be so innocent, Anastasia. You weren’t exactly forthcoming about your inheritance either, or the fact your family oversees the largest criminal organization in America.”
“So, you are a part of the Camorra.”
Those lips I remember tracing over countless times lift up. “Smart girl.” He quips, striking a chord inside of me.
“What the fuck do you want from me?”
“The same thing I offered in my letter. To merge our two companies and in turn our less legitimate businesses. We spilt everything 50/50.”
“70/30.” I counter.
“No, 50 is fair.”
“I have bigger assets.”
His gaze drops to my tits. “You certainly do.”
I clench my jaw. “And higher profit margins, you don’t—”
“Yet, you still need me.” My breath hitches as he leans in close, the soft material of his pants rubbing against my leg. “There’s a reason you came back to me, tesoro. You don’t just want to hear me out, you have to. ”
“I decided to hear you out so you could give me a reason not to kill you.” I offer him a fake smile, trailing my sharp nails down his shoulder. “It’s not looking good so far.”
Weirdly my little threat seems to excite him, spreading a grin across his stupidly chiseled face. “How would you do it? Would you call your little bodyguard over to finish the job?”
“You think I need a man to kill you? Oh no, I would pull the trigger myself.” Reaching into my purse, I pull out my pistol and press hard against his crotch. He grunts, making me smile as I dig it in harder. “Just say when.”
“You made your point.” His breaths come out shallow and I watch him squirm, eventually giving in to his pleas, only to push the barrel against his head instead.
He sighs out in relief like I’m not threatening to put a bullet between his eyes. “I’m reaching into my pocket to offer you a deal. Don’t shoot just yet.”
I swallow hard, watching him sink his hand into his jacket and pull away from me, as he drops down onto one knee. He reveals a velvet box in his hand and pops open the lid.
What the—
“Anastasia Romano, will you marry me?”