Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
It was the only way.
The only safe way he could think of.
The only way he could tell her what was inside his heart was without saying the words.
I need you.
I need you, wife.
I need you forever.
And when morning came the next day, it was these words that he thought of first.
I need my wife.
And it terrified the hell out of him.
Because his whole life, he thought he had been damned.
And that it was his punishment to live and die alone.
So why, God?
Why did it suddenly feel like God was real?
And all because of her.
I need you, Gazelle.
A girl whose existence he had ignored for years—-
And yet she had chosen to trust him from the moment he claimed her.
I need you.
I need you.
Please God, please don't take her away from me.
And when he finally dared to open his eyes and see for himself if last night was indeed real—-
Fuck.
It was to see that his wife was already awake, and it was obvious all at once that she had been watching him for some time.
This was not how it should be, dammit.
Lorenzo had caught a few scenes of rom-coms here and there because of the women in his staff, and those scenes always showed it was the man who'd wake up first, and the woman who'd blush at finding herself the object of her lover's gaze.
So why the hell had their roles been reversed?
And why was he acting like this was a big deal?
Because as much as he wished he could deny it—-
Shit, shit, shit.
Lorenzo knew he was not imagining the slight flush of color that was heating his cheeks.
"Oh my gosh, are you actually—-"
He gave his wife the meanest glare he was capable of.
"—-blushing?"
But it clearly had no effect at all, and as much as the sound of her giggles made him want to strangle her—-
His young wife gasped in shock when he abruptly rolled her to her back.
"Why, dammit?"
Because he seriously wanted to know.
"Why aren't you scared of me?"
"I was," his wife admitted in a voice tinged with shame and discomfort. "Very, very much."
"I see."
Her answer was to be expected.
He was the Beast of New York, after all.
So why, dammit?
Why was he feeling disappointed that she hadn't proven him wrong?
Lorenzo felt a sudden and violent need to be away from her.
But before he could jerk away—-
"You actually made me want to run away at first. But at the same time, there was just something about you..."
And this time, it was his wife's turn to blush.
"I found you terribly exciting, too."
His wife whispered the words as if confessing a lurid sin.
"And I didn't get it at that time, but I get it now. Because the more time I spend with you, the more I'm starting to see why Nonna chose you and how all the stories about you are wrong—-"
"The media would not take kindly to you saying that."
"But I'm right, aren't I? They were wrong about you."
Lorenzo's lips tightened at the question.
The moment the judge had declared him guilty, not once had he been tempted to defend himself again.
"Weren't they?"
Not once, dammit.
And yet in the face of his wife's unwavering trust in him, Lorenzo found himself doing the unthinkable.
"Yes."
All his life, he had thought God wanted to pay for his sins by keeping a vow of silence.
"I didn't want to kill him."
But there was just something about the way Gazelle was looking at him that made Lorenzo think maybe...
Just maybe he was wrong about God.
"I gave him a chance to change. I fucking pleaded for him to change. And he said yes."
His voice turned gritty, and his throat tightened.
"But the moment I turned my back, he fucking tried to stab me."
And the memories that he had tried his damnedest to bury—-
"After that, it was my life or his."
The moment they were unleashed, there was no turning back.
Why, dammit?
It was what he had ended up screaming in his mind as he sank to his knees.
Why?
And watched his father slowly die in front of him.
Why, dammit, why?
"I'm so, so sorry."
It was only when his wife shakily reached up to wipe his tears that he realized he was crying.
"He's a monster," Lorenzo said tightly. "There's nothing to be sorry about."
"He was also your father, Renzo. And no person would ever want to kill their father."
"That's also what people say about fathers who have killed their own sons," he pointed out bitterly. "But do you really think that's also true for him?"
"You're right, of course," she whispered. "I can't say the same thing about your father. But that's only because he was no longer in his right mind the moment he hurt your mother—-"
"He raped her, Gazelle!"
"I know."
"That fuck!"
"I'm sorry, Lorenzo."
Her arms slowly wrapped around him, and as he buried his face against her neck, his tears flowed fucking freely like he was a little boy again.