Chapter 23 #3
“Why aren’t you upset with me?” I asked, unable to keep my curiosity at bay.
His gaze flickered down to my mouth for a moment before returning to my eyes with an intensity that threatened to consume me. “I’ll be having my way with you eventually, Rosalie.”
I bit on the inside of my cheek, both to suppress the heat rising in my face and to hide the unexpected flutter in my stomach. “But you won’t hurt me?”
“No,” he admitted gently. “No one will. I’ll make sure of it.”
My stomach lurched. Those dreadful butterflies had returned with a vengeance, a swarm taking flight in my stomach.
“My family will stay safe?”
Max leaned back again, his seriousness returning. “If you agree to marry me, yes.”
“If I marry you . . .” My voice trailed off. “I hope you realize how unfair this is.”
He scoffed—a harsh, humorless sound. “Unfair? You sent me to jail, mia cara.”
“And I’ll put you right back in there after what you did to Lucas,” I retorted, my voice rising a notch. The memory of what had happened pushed back at the fear threatening to consume me.
“Put me back?” He smiled—a slow-moving smile that spoke volumes about his disregard for my threats.
“I thought you were smarter than that, but go ahead. Just know, I’ll be out before the ink’s dry on the marriage certificate, and when I am, you’ll be begging me for the mercy you’ve shown me none of. ”
I looked down. I had nothing to say. I had one choice to make, and that was between marriage and mayhem. I feared the latter, but that didn’t make the first option any better. Marrying Max wasn’t just about enduring him; it was about becoming the very thing I was told to fear—a Romano.
“You need to take care of the mess in my apartment,” I complained.
“That is your problem.” He leaned back in the booth with relaxed shoulders. “You can clean this mess up yourself. Maybe learn a lesson while you’re at it.”
I was going to kill Max. Might as well, right? I could be going to prison for the murder of Lucas anyway. A two for one, if you will.
But before I could strangle him with my bare hands, Max spoke again. “Relax,” he soothed, his words laced with a forced calm. “I’m sure Sean will help you.” He looked down at his watch. “He should be here any minute now.”
And he was.
Sean stood at the door, his gaze searching for me. I held my hand up to him, silently urging him to stay put.
Duke shifted at my feet when he saw Sean approaching. He ignored my frantic signal, his long strides eating up the distance between us. Max folded his hands on the tabletop and looked up at Sean.
“Perfect timing,” he drawled. “Sean, Rosalie will be needing a ride to her father’s.”
My gaze darted between Max and Sean. Sean, usually the picture of composure, seemed to shrink under Max’s stare. I didn’t trust Max near a fly, let alone another human being. I wanted Sean to get away from him before Max’s temper was triggered.
“Rose, come on,” Sean said, his voice clipped with urgency.
Max wasn’t done though. “Oh, and she might need a hand with a bit of . . . mess in her apartment. I’m sure you and Liam are aware of where to take Lucas, yeah?”
Sean shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flickering away from mine. They exchanged a look as if they were having a silent conversation, making me feel completely clueless.
“Where?” I blurted out, the question ripping from my throat. My mind conjured horrifying images. Were they going to dump his body in a ditch somewhere? That felt so disrespectful.
Max gave me a harder look. A horrible suspicion filled my stomach, churning like a vat of acid as I looked down at his shoes, which were covered in mud.
He didn’t . . .
“Oh god,” I said aloud, the realization dawning on me. They didn’t have to tell me anything for me to realize.
These men, they never thought about their actions before they caused problems. My frustration took over from the fear. It was raw and burning over. My mouth hung open in a silent scream.
Max had dug up my grave—the one my father had created in case anyone started to ask questions.
No one had figured there’d be a man crazy enough to dig up a grave for proof.
Clearly, we didn’t know Max Romano well enough.
“Rose, let’s go,” Sean demanded, turning on his heel and not wasting a second.
I didn’t follow him. I was still stuck in a state of shock.
The world spun around me. The absurdity of it all should have been laughable, but terror choked any humor.
My eyes darted to Max, a frantic search for answers written on my face.
The man I once knew, the one with the gentle smile and eyes that held warmth, was gone.
A strangled sound escaped my dry throat. “You dug up my grave?” I finally choked out, the question escaping as a rasp. Was I even shocked anymore?
“You’ve made a madman out of me.”
“You were a madman well before you ever touched a shovel, Max.”
With Duke’s leash wrapped tightly around my hand, I slid out of the booth, ready to catch up with Sean—but before I could rush off, Max stopped me by wrapping his hand around my wrist.
“Think carefully,” he started. “You have a choice to make. Make the right one, and this transition will be smoother. Resist, and things will become considerably less pleasant.”
And with that, I left.