She wasn’t asking his permission either. He wasn’t in charge. She’d made that clear more than once. Shylah was an independent thinker, was used to working alone.
Fear wasn’t the problem, she could deal with nerves, it was the excitement welling up in her that frightened her most. The unfamiliar emotion was too strong. Too needy. Too everything she was unprepared to deal with.
I’d like you to make an effort to share what you’re feeling, good or bad, with me. I’ll do the same. If we’re honest with each other in our communication this will work for us.
She wanted a family. She loved that the Ferraros were so tight-knit, but she barely knew them. She didn’t even really know what Stefano did for a living. There was just a little bit of fear when she was around them all. Power clung to them. They were their wealth so easily, like a second skin. More than that, they were a cloak of pure danger. When any of the Ferraros walked into a room, there was stunned silence- a collective gasp from any other occupants of the room.
He preferred smaller knives, but when you wanted to make a statement, you did it big. He wanted this man cowed and willing to talk.
Two F-bombs in under a second. He was more than furious. She had no choice but to lift her chin, but she kept her eyes childishly shut tight, afraid if she looked at him, she’d be lost.
There it was, again, that hurt in his eyes. Maybe hurt. Something. Sadness. That was it. She detested that look. He shouldn’t ever feel unhappy. It was more than unhappy. Desolate, as if he was completely alone and she’d taken his last joy from him.
Say yes, Francesca. I didn’t think it was possible to feel anything real for a woman. I just couldn’t. I tried, but nothing was there. I knew I was capable of loving because I love my sister and brothers fiercely. With everything in me. But what a man feels for a woman, ‘the’ woman, eluded me until you. Until I saw you.
A part of him felt she would always have been a mystery to him, elusive and enigmatic, but at the same time, she was comfortable as if they had been together for years.
He had thought to hold a part of himself back until she made up her mind. Getting his heart broken wasn’t on his list of things he wanted to experience. But the effect of her welcoming smile told him it was too late. He’d already fallen.
He was the devil, but she didn’t care. On some level she even knew he was using her own body against her, pitting her innocence against his experience, but she didn’t care about that, either. She wanted to leap into the fire with both feet, arms wide, eyes open. She knew his world might be something she would have a difficult time accepting, but he was worth it.
Staying strong for our people. Staying strong to keep the demon inside. Staying strong for her. Only her.” Those last two words of his code- his vow- said everything. Every wound he had suffered in battle, every time he had to kill an old friend or relative, every night he’d risen and endured the gray void, was for her.
His thoughtful Grace. He liked that trait in her. Te stillness in her. She brought a sense of peace to her surroundings.
You don’t do violence, Francesca, not unless it’s self-defense or in defense of our family. I won’t have that on your soul. You’re going to be my wife. The mother of my children. You’re about love and softness. Not killing. Never that.
There you go, getting all protective on me. You’re worried about me, aren’t you?” His voice practically purred at her, a sensual mixture of possession, desire and something else – affection. “Dio, bambino, I love that.
The Torpedo Ink club members were lost, wandering through a world they didn’t fit into. They needed direction.
All right Bebe, we’re in trouble. You get that don’ you?
Well, put that lovely treasure back in your pants and calm down.
She looked down onto his face. So gorgeous. It wasn’t just his beautiful, very masculine features, it was the way he was inside. “I’m in love with you. There isn’t anything that you can tell me that is going to change that.
Since I’ve had to endure your ugliness my entire life, I’m immune to whatever venom you choose to spew. However, and you’d better hear me, Eloisa, I will not tolerate you doing the same thing to my woman. She’s my choice. She’s always going to be my choice.