Chapter Twenty-five
Idon’t think I’ve ever showered and changed this quickly before. While Coach talks about our win, I can’t keep my eyes off the door. All I want to do is leave with my sweet bunny, and not having her at my side is making me restless.
Seeing her tonight made me realize how much I’ve missed her. And for once, I’m glad she didn’t do as I said, because seeing her here, in that crop-sweater or whatever… cheering for me. Not only was it hot as fuck, but it also made me realize just how much I’ve missed her. Sure, four days without her pussy has left me with blue balls, but it’s more than that. I’ve missed her; her laughter, the way she hogs the sheet, the cute noises she makes when deep in sleep.
Mickey was right; I needed to get my head out of my ass and see the truth. I’m so fucking in love with my wife, consumed by her in ways I never thought possible. I need to tell her I’m sorry.
“Good game, guys. The press are waiting for us, so we should get out there,” Coach says, walking over to the door and holding it open for us as we file out.
When we walk around the corner, I discreetly fall behind, and the moment everyone is in front of me, I double back and walk out the opposite door where I know Lucia’s waiting for me.
“Sy,” she breathes, her whole face lighting up as she speaks my name.
“Sweet bunny.” I grin, taking her hand. “We have to leave quickly or they’ll come looking for me.”
Lucia looks up at me. “Huh? Why?”
What does she mean why? She knows my schedule, as everyone on the PR team does. As soon as I think that, I realize just how much I’ve messed up. I forgot she lost her job the day Fabian outed her to Tom and Jo. The thought makes me feel even worse about ignoring her. I should have been there to make sure she was okay. “There’s a press conference,” I explain as we leave through the back door.
We make it to my car without anyone stopping us, and we waste no time getting the hell out of there. As we drive through the mostly empty streets, I can’t shake the weight of my own actions, the guilt that gnaws at me for avoiding my sweet bunny for days on end.
I steal a glance at her, the woman who holds my heart in her hands. “I’m sorry,” I rush out.
“You’re sorry?” she scoffs. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
Shaking my head, I take her hand and press a kiss to the back. “No, baby. I’m the one who’s sorry for running away like a fucking pussy. I should have stayed so we could talk. I should have been there for you after you lost your job.”
I can feel her eyes bore into me, but she doesn’t speak until I’ve parked and we’re in the elevator. “I don’t care about the job,” she finally answers. “All I care about is us, Sy.”
No words can express the way it feels to hear those words. So instead of cheapening the moment, I push her against the elevator wall and press my lips to hers. Her arms immediately wrap around my middle, and she’s tangling her fingers in the fabric of my suit jacket like she’s afraid I’ll leave her.
I want to laugh at the absurdity of that thought. I can’t leave her any more than I can cut out my own heart and continue breathing. She’s it for me, and I want—crave—to be the same for her. Each swipe of my tongue is my way of telling her exactly that.
We end the kiss when the elevator doors slide open, and together we enter our apartment. After closing the door behind us, Lucia stays near it. Her eyes dart between me and the bedroom. Furrowing my brows, I sit down on the couch, patting the space next to me. “Come over here,” I rasp.
Lifting her chin, she looks at me. “Are you going to shout at me?”
“What?”
I only now notice the way her clenched hands tremble. “I won’t fight with you, Sy,” she whispers. “So if you’re angry you can…” Pausing, she swallows audibly. Then her eyes lock on to mine. “If you promise not to leave a scar you can take it out on my body. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Where’s this coming from?” I ask, trying my damndest to keep my tone calm. “Tell me what you’re thinking, sweet bunny. I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want to fight. I want us to talk like equals.”
She shakes her head. “I lied to you, Sy. I manipulated you and tried to… I was going to use you as a pawn in my game. We can’t be equals until you make me pay for that.”
Despite her words, uncertainty flickers in her eyes as I stand and make my way over to her. Her breath hitches as I reach for her, gently cupping her cheek. “You’re my wife,” I rasp. “I don’t give a fuck how it came to be. It happened, and I won’t change it for the world.”
Looking into her green eyes, I feel as though I can see the version of her that’s scared. The one Fabian obviously created by mistreating her. I hate him. Hate him for having had her, for hurting her, and for daring to speak to her at the game. The mere idea of him near her fills me with a primal rage that I struggle to contain.
“What did he do to you?” I ask, needing to know the full truth. Not bits and pieces, not a watered down version. All of it.
Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes, stealing herself. When she opens her eyes again, they’re emotionless orbs of nothing. There’s no hint of my bunny in there at all. “I was given to Fabian, and on my sixteenth birthday, I married him—”
“You fucking what?” I roar, letting go of her so I don’t accidentally hurt her. “You were just a child.” Disgust coats my words as anger licks at my insides.
Ignoring my outburst, Lucia keeps talking. “My mom was excited by the match, my dad not so much. He actually tried to get me out of it, which cost him his life.”
My breath hitches. What. The. Actual. Fuck.
“Mom turned my dad over to my uncle, who executed him for treason against the Russo empire after he tried getting me out.” She lets out a dry, forced laugh. “We didn’t even reach the city borders. Mom was on to us straight away.”
I want to say something, do something as she moves around me, tearing at her clothes with violent movements. My brain isn’t working, so I just stand there, watching her undress.
“This,” Lucia says coldly, pointing at the brand on her hip. “Is a reminder of who I belong to. Of who I should always belong to. My family. In my family, freedom is an illusion. But I changed the rules. I bought my freedom. I, Lucia Russo, managed what no one else has. I. Got. My freedom.”
Her words are stiff, formal. This is much worse than her PR persona, because the broken woman standing in front of me is nothing more than a statuesque husk of the woman I’ve seen, felt coming to life at my touch. The woman I opened my heart to. The woman I love.
“Let me get this straight,” I growl. “Your family married you off while you were nothing more than a child. Is that correct?”
“I was sixteen,” she volleys. “I haven’t been a child since… well, I’m not sure I ever really was allowed to be one.”
“Baby,” I breathe, pulling her to me. Swallowing thickly, I search her eyes for… I don’t really know. Signs that she knows how terrible her family treated her, perhaps. Whatever it is I’m looking for, I don’t find it.
Looking up at me, she licks her lips. “T-there’s more,” she stammers.
I nod, having already deduced that much. “I have something I need to do first,” I rasp.
“O-okay.”
Dropping to one knee I take her hand while searching the pocket of my suit pants for what I need. “Lucia Carter… or Russo… whatever the hell your name is. Will you continue to be married to me?”
“Sawyer—”
“I know our beginning was bumpy and imperfect. But so are we. I don’t want what the world perceives as perfect. I want you, because you’re perfect for me and because I’m too selfish to ever give you up.” Her green eyes fill with tears as I gently remove the wedding band Remus gave her, replacing it with the one my mom gave me many years ago.
“I-I can’t,” she cries out. “You need to hear everything first.”
Shaking my head, I kiss her hand. “No, sweet bunny. I need to ask you now because you need to know that whatever you’re about to tell me won’t change anything. Will you stay married to me?”
“Y-yes,” she hiccups. “Now and always.”
“Now and always,” I echo. Sensing that the ring from Remus is more than just a piece of jewelry, I slide it back on her finger.
Standing back up, I waste no time wrapping my arms around her shaking frame, holding her firmly against me. She hesitantly hugs me back, resting her head against my chest. Her tears soak my shirt, and I hate knowing she’s in so much pain. I want to wage war on everyone who’s ever made her feel like she’s an object rather than the amazing woman that she is.
Fuck… married at sixteen because her family told her to. If I ever see Remus again, I will fucking punch him. I might not know what his role is, but my gut tells me he has one. And Fabian… I don’t know. I’ve always believed that everyone is capable of murder given the right circumstances, and this, knowing he abused her definitely qualifies.
Once my sweet bunny has calmed down, she loosens her embrace. “Do you mind sitting back down?” she asks nervously.
Yes, I fucking mind. A lot, actually. “Of course not,” I reply. Though I don’t want to, I know this isn’t about me but what she needs.
Sitting down on the chair, I watch her as she paces back and forth, seemingly lost in thought. Then she walks over to her pile of clothes, finding her handbag among the fabric. I see the gleam of the knife before she holds it out to me. “Make me tell you the truth,” she pleads. “You need to know I’m not hiding anything, and this is the best way I can think of.”
“Baby,” I rasp. “I’m always up for cutting you when you need it. But I’m not going to do it if you think it’s some kind of punishment.”
She stands back up and comes over to me. “No, that’s not what it is. But I…” Pausing, she swallows thickly. “I need you to know I’m not lying or holding anything back from you.”
I take the knife from her outstretched hand and press it against the inside of her upper arm. “Here?” I ask, not taking my eyes off of hers.
“Yes,” she breathes.
Moving the blade down her arm, I make sure the cut is shallow so there’s no permanent or serious damage. She doesn’t hiss or show any outward signs that it hurts, not even when I make the cut longer than I probably should. My eyes trail the cut, zoning in on the redness of her blood as it pebbles to the surface and begins to trail down her arm.
I stand up and remove my suit jacket and then shirt. Then I hold my arm out to her. “I’m not going to hold anything back either,” I say, pushing the handle toward her.
She wordlessly takes it, holding the metal against my upper arm. “Are you sure?” she asks, her tone low and almost sultry.
“Absolutely.”
A shudder runs through her as she leans closer and slowly cuts my skin open. She stares at it with a euphoric expression on her face. Then she takes a few steps back, putting the distance she needs between us. Sitting back down on the chair, I watch her mask of indifference slipping back into place. Even though I hate when she’s wearing it, I won’t ask her to stop. I have no idea what she’s about to divulge, only that it’s bad. So if this is what she needs, I’ll let her have it.
“When this all started,” she gestures between us. “I saw you as my ticket to freedom. If I got married before my twenty-eighth birthday, I’d be free forever. So when Tom wanted us to find you a fake girlfriend, it had to be me. I was set on manipulating the situation for my own gain. That’s the kind of person I really am, and you should never forget that.” She sounds like she’s reading off a script rather than sharing details about herself.
I stand abruptly, sending the chair skittering behind me. “Let’s get one thing straight,” I say, my tone low and dark.
I take a step toward her, causing her to take one backward and away from me. But she meets my gaze head on, even lifting her chin. I love how defiant she is, even when her instinct is to retreat, she does it in a way that shows strength.
“I’ll never allow anyone to speak badly about what’s mine. Not even you.”
Another step, and this time she doesn’t back away from me.
“Do you understand?”
She gulps. “Y-yes.”
I close the distance between us, using my body to push her back until her back hits the wall. Then I gather both her wrists in my hand, moving them above her head while pinning her in place with my hips. “I thought you weren’t going to lie to me,” I observe, wanting to provoke her.
“I’m not lying,” she spits.
As I look into her eyes, I notice her fire is back. Sighing with relief, I tighten my grip on her wrists. “Are you sure about that?” I challenge. Using my free hand, I run my fingers through the blood still trailing down her arm. Then I swipe it across my lips before repeating the motion with my own blood, painting it across her lips.
“I-I…”
“That’s what I thought. Tell me I’m nothing more than your glorified key to the shackles of your fucked up family. Now, Lucia. Tell me, and I’ll let you go.”
Her nostrils flare as she presses her lips together.
“That’s what I thought,” I growl. “You’re lying to yourself and to me. But why? Hmm? Do you want me to leave you?”
“No,” she whimpers. “But you’re going to. I know it. And I… I…”
“You what?”
“And then I have to go back to Fabian—”
“The fuck you do,” I interrupt with a growl. “You’re mine, sweet bunny. I’ve already fucking told you that. What do you think those words mean?”
Shaking her head, she admits, “I don’t know.”
Her words feel like a punch to my heart. How can she not know what being mine means? “It means I’m not giving up on you—on us. I’m not letting you go, and you’re never going back to that sick bastard.”
After hearing her out and seeing how deep her scars run, I want nothing more than to kill the bastard with my own hands. I’m not talking about her physical scars, though I’m still curious about those. No, it’s her mental ones that are the worst. She might act self assured and like she’s not broken, but she is. My sweet bunny was broken and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to be the one to put her back together.
“I was so fucking pissed at you,” I say. My soft tone contradicts the words. “You should have trusted me with the truth instead of allowing that fucker to blindside me.”
“I know,” she whimpers.
Reaching out, I catch a tear on my finger and lick it off like I’ve done before. I don’t know why I crave her tears, only that it feels like a waste to let them run down her face and become nothing. “I can understand why you didn’t.”
“You can?” she asks, hope coating her words.
Nodding, I assure her, “Yes. I can. And if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I would have listened to anything you said beyond already being married. But I’m listening now, sweet bunny. So tell me.”
“I... I thought I was divorced from Fabian,” she confesses, her voice shaky with uncertainty. “But Remus... he told me we were only separated.” I meet Lucia’s gaze, seeing the turmoil in her eyes, and my heart clenches.
“Remus,” I repeat, my voice barely a whisper. “He’s the one who set this up?” Lucia nods, her eyes pleading for understanding.
“Yes and no. When his dad died, Remus took over as the new Don, or Head, of my family.”
My mind whirls with disbelief. “Head of your family?” My bunny nods.
Taking a moment, I sort through everything she’s told me, as well as everything I’ve picked up. She’s Italian, that much I’ve worked out. Okay, that makes me sound more sure than I am, but what she said to Fabian sounded Italian, and the way her accent changed when she first told me what the letters in her brand mean.
“Are your family members of the Mafia?” I finally ask, having no other conclusion.
The corners of her lips turn upward in an almost-smile. “In the Mafia?” she asks, tilting her head to the side and looking up at me from beneath her long, black lashes. “My family is the original Mafia. We’re the very reason for every hair that raises in fear when people use hushed tones to discuss the crimes of the very institution I was born into.”
I thought I was prepared for her answer, but now that I have it I know I wasn’t. What the fuck do I say to that? “And Remus is the Don?” I ask. When she nods, I continue. “But it was his dad that forced you into the marriage with Fabian, and then later helped you out of it?”
“Yup,” she confirms.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
I tighten my grip on her wrists. “Don’t play dumb with me, sweet bunny. You’re much too clever to pull that off. Why did he set you free?”
She swallows audibly. “Fabian was… well, he was plotting against the reigning Prime Minister of Italy. Someone who had Romulus’, my uncle’s, backing. I gave him evidence so he could stop the coup in time, and as a thank you he granted me a favor.”
“A favor?”
“Yes, and I used it to ask for my freedom from Fabian and the Russo family.”
“Why did he go back on his word?”
She lets out a hollow laugh. “He didn’t. I guess I just wasn’t specific enough in my wish. I did get my freedom both from Fabian and the family. He took me away when I was seventeen, and sent me to America when I was eighteen. Set me up with a fat bank account and made me almost untraceable. But—”
I cut her off. “But you didn’t get your divorce.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I hear the mistake. “You didn’t ask for a divorce. You asked for freedom.”
“Exactly. And I didn’t ask for it to last forever, which I’m assuming is the reason for the ten years I got.”
Right, so the devil really is in the details, even when dealing with family. “What happens now?”
“Remus told me we have to stand in front of the Senate. It’s a… counsel of sorts. And they have to approve of my marriage to you. If they do, that’s it. I’m free forever and they can’t ever take it back.”
My tone is grave as I ask, “And what happens if they don’t approve? Because I don’t care who your family is. You’re my wife.”
She gulps. “Then they kill you and give me back to Fabian.” Her voice quavers, betrays her nerves.
“So you really weren’t in a relationship when we got together?” I ask, frustration creeping into my voice.
I know it shouldn’t matter, but I can’t help the need to get absolute clarity. I have to know she didn’t cheat on her husband with me, even if her husband is… was someone as sick as Fabian. Shit, this entire situation is so messed up and I’m focusing entirely on the wrong things.
“No,” she almost shouts. “I’ve been separated from Fabian for almost ten years. We hadn’t spoken until he showed up at the Sabertooths’ sponsor event, and we sure as hell haven’t been intimate or anything.”
I search her eyes for any hint that she’s lying to me. But there’s none. She looks back at me with complete honesty written all over her features. “Okay,” I relent. Taking a deep breath, I finally say, “I believe you.”
“Really?” she mumbles, averting her gaze like she’s afraid I’m about to take it back.
Moving my hand to her chin, I lift it up until she has to look at me. “Really,” I confirm.
She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off with my mouth. I claim her lips in a hard kiss. Our teeth clash, our tongues fight, and I swallow the sobs wracking through her. Each and every one goes from her mouth and into mine, where I absorb them.
“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispers when we come up for air. “I couldn’t… it was… please don’t leave me.”
“Never,” I vow. “I’ll never fucking leave you, and I won’t let anyone take you away. I don’t care if you’re Lucia Carter or Lucia Russo. All that matters is that you’re mine.”
She smiles through her tears. “I think…” pausing briefly, she shudders. “Is it okay if I’m Lucia Perry?”
Those words… words I thought I never wanted to hear wrap around my heart, stirring something dark and untamed inside me. “Say that again,” I rasp, grinding against her.
“Lucia Perry has a nice ring to it,” she smirks.
After letting go of her wrists, I pick her up, and she immediately wraps her legs around me while I squeeze the soft globes of her ass. “LP has a nice ring to it.”
“LP?”
Now it’s my turn to smirk. “Limited Partner. Lovely Pussy—”
She cuts me off. “Licking Pussy?”
I’m about to laugh when I notice how wide her eyes are, and the fire in them. “Are you saying…” I trail off, wanting her to confirm what I’m suspecting.
“Yes, Sawyer. I want you to put me down on the bed and feast between my legs.” She shudders, but doesn’t back down.