His: Tony: The Sabatini Family by Fiona Murphy (mystery books to read .TXT) 📗

me in instant response. I want to push him away. What the hell am I doing seeking comfort from him when he was going to...? I sigh as it all comes back. All he was going to do was protect himself—from me. Seriously, where the hell had it gone? What happened for all the rage and pain to disappear as if it never even existed? That can’t be normal, can it?

“I’m sorry.” The words slip out of my tight throat. “This is all my fault, and I’m hiding behind you for what I made happen.”

Tony pulls back and looks down at me. A finger runs over my lower lip. “I told you, piccolina, you’re mine. You belong to me. It’s my responsibility now to take care of you and protect you from everyone—including yourself. No one will ever know.” Blue glitters to dark sapphire, and I shiver. He means it, every word. “Tell me, Christy. Who do you belong to?”

“You.” I don’t dare deny it. I don’t want to.

“That’s the only thing that matters from this day forward. Do you understand me? To my men, to my son, to everyone. You belong to me.”

I nod, my throat tight with an emotion I can’t name, but scares the hell out of me. Tony presses his lips to mine. “Go wait in the office for me while I finish up.”

9

Christy

When we walk into his house, Carmella comes out of the library. “Your clothes have been brought over from your place. Tomorrow we can go over and pack everything you want. I’ll sort out getting rid of anything you don’t want.”

Then she’s gone again. I’m frozen where I stand. What? All my things are here? I watch Tony go into the kitchen without looking back. What the hell is happening? Fuck being scared of pushing him. I follow him into the kitchen. He’s working his phone, and I hear the music change from country music to blues. “Tony, you moved my stuff here?”

An eyebrow goes up as he turns to me, “Yeah, of course,” he says the words slowly. I want to slap him so badly.

“There’s no, of course. What the hell is this?”

“What’s what?” He frowns down at me.

“This, what am I doing here? I’m going to follow you around for what a week, two weeks? Until you get bored with me? I don’t even really understand why I’m still alive right now, and I’m trying not to freak out over how that can change at any minute.”

His frown deepens. “Where the hell did you get the idea—”

Oh my god, is he serious? “Maybe from the way you offered to have my death be an easy one not even twenty-four hours ago. Which I totally fucking get. I deserve it. I don’t deserve to be standing here and—”

Hot, angry, and consuming, his mouth is on mine. I’m weak in an instant, clinging to him. I groan when it ends far too soon. Shaking his head, “What I was trying for, my sweet Christy, was to give you time to come to terms with it. Slip the bridle on nice and easy before you even realized you were wearing it, but you have to keep pushing.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Do you think you're speaking English right now?”

“We settled this the first damn day. Yes, less than twenty-four hours ago and again less than an hour ago. You’re mine. I'm keeping you.”

It doesn’t make sense to me. Even though, yes, not even an hour ago, he claimed me again. This is Tony Sabatini, a cold, ruthless killer. Was he really going to let the whole ‘me trying to kill him thing’ go—like it never happened? “What? Locked in the basement or something?”

The fucker laughs. I know I thought I wanted to hear him laugh but not right now. Especially because it makes me wet, and I need to focus.

“No. You're mine. You belong to me. I'm keeping you with me here in this house, and in my bed. Hopefully,” he reaches out and tenderly runs his finger along my stomach. "soon, you'll help me fill this house with the children I’ve always wanted.”

A baby, he wants me... “You're serious. You're really... Oh god.” My knees go weak, and I sink to the floor.

Tony hauls me up and puts me on the island. Damn, that’s cold. He studies me intently. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head. “No, I'm not okay. You're telling me I'm going to stay here and have your babies like it's not the most fucked up thing I've ever heard in my life. What woman would be okay with that? I’m trying really hard to wake up from this insane nightmare.”

His face goes hard. “You are awake. This is real life—yours and mine. Accept it fast. Because the alternative is killing you.” I flinch. He sighs. “I don't want to fucking kill you, Christy. To keep you alive, I’m keeping you at my side, as my woman in every sense of the word.”

Why do I feel like crying? Is it even fair to him? He’s doing what he thinks he has to do to keep me alive. After what I did, he’s the one forced into this. I shouldn’t be crying—it should be him. “I told you and I mean it. I don't want to kill you. You can let me go.”

That exhale thing that’s not a laugh. “Right, and five years or ten years from now, when you hit a wall, and you're looking for someone to blame, you'll know enough to come up behind me and put the bullet in the back of my head.”

I hate the tears that fall at how sure he sounds, at the bitterness of his words. “No, oh my god, Tony. I could never hurt you. Not now. I can’t explain it. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I couldn’t do it.” I can’t, don’t dare say what is becoming clearer and stronger with every minute I spend with him.

He shakes his head as he cups