Love Me (Touch of Death Book 3) Read online

  Love Me

  Touch of Death #3

  LP Lovell

  Contents

  1. Adelina

  2. Sasha

  3. Adelina Adelina Adelina Adelina

  4. Sasha Sasha Sasha Sasha

  5. Adelina

  6. Sasha

  7. Adelina

  8. Sasha

  9. Adelina

  10. Adelina

  11. Sasha

  12. Adelina

  13. Adelina

  14. Sasha

  15. Adelina

  16. Sasha

  17. Sasha

  18. Adelina

  19. Sasha

  20. Adelina

  21. Sasha

  22. Adelina

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1

  Adelina

  “Welcome to hell, principessa.” Enrique’s words are a torturous whisper that echoes through my mind. His arm presses over my throat, whiskey-scented breath washing over my face as he crushes my windpipe.

  My lungs strain, my heart races, and adrenaline fires through my veins in a bid to make me fight for my own survival. For the slightest moment, I think maybe it would just be easier if he kills me. My life feels like a circus act, walking along the perilous tightrope between death and revenge, failure and success. And lies, so many lies.

  I try to blink back my tears, but they fall wilfully. Enrique’s drunken, glazed eyes flick over my face before he finally releases me.

  “You’re lying!” I scream, scrambling away from him like a wild animal, clutching the bedsheets to my chest.

  He laughs. “No. Sasha Ivanov killed your father.” A slow smile works over his lips before he fumbles around on the bedside table for his phone. He taps the screen a few times before tossing it at me. On the screen are a series of text messages. The name: Death. That’s it. There are account details and a request for one million dollars from the other person. The only text from Enrique is my father’s name. The next text: my man will be in touch when it’s done.

  “The Kiss of Death. You should take it as a compliment. It wasn’t cheap having Eduardo killed.” A manic cackle slips from his lips.

  “This is Una, not Sasha!” My voice is thick.

  “Her man is Sasha Ivanov. She works with no one else,” he slurs before snatching his phone back. A disgusting smile pulls at Enrique’s lips, and I want to slap it off his face, but I don’t because I’m fragile, broken. And he knows it.

  I don’t want to believe him, but I do. I know somewhere deep down in my soul that Sasha killed my father. And Enrique ordered it, too cowardly to even do it himself.

  I suck in a strangled breath, and Enrique rolls off the bed, clumsy steps thundering over the floor as he stumbles to the door. He wrenches it open, and the doorknob bangs against the drywall. Only when he’s gone does the dam break and ugly sobs tear past my lips. I purge myself of the hurt and the self-pity, right there in the very bed that he raped me in. The same bed I could have killed him in. If only I were stronger. If only I were better. I hate him because he has taken everything that was ever good in my life and ruined it, including Sasha.

  I force myself to get up. Snatching my tattered wedding dress from the floor, I tug it over my body, clasping the shredded material together enough to cover me. The house is steeped in the kind of deafening silence that only exists in the very early hours of the morning. I bite my lip, stifling my sobs as I creep along the corridor.

  When I reach my room, I immediately strip out of the morbid white satin and lace, wishing I could torch it. Maybe I could just set fire to it right here and burn the entire house to the ground right along with it.

  I stagger into the bathroom and crank the shower, making it as hot as possible before stepping under the scalding spray. It stings, but I don’t care. If I could shed my skin, I would. It’s soiled and stained in a way that I’ll never be clear of. I’m not sure which is worse; the fact that I willingly slept with one of the men responsible for my father’s death or that I was raped by the other. I thump my head back against the tile as a fresh wave of tears fall. Bile rises in my throat, and my legs wobble before I slump, lowering myself to the shower floor.

  I didn’t know it was Sasha who killed Daddy. How could I have? I feel violated like it was Sasha who raped me. Months, I was with him. Trusted him…loved him… He watched as I went on a revenge mission to kill Enrique, my father’s murderer, let me marry him. And the entire time, the killer was Sasha. I’ve experienced betrayal, but this wound cuts deeper than any before.

  I don’t know how long I stay there, but slowly, the tears ebb away, and anger takes their place. It’s not an irrational, hateful anger but a cold, calculating rage. A plan starts to formulate in my mind. In their eyes, I’m naïve and weak, a pawn to be exploited over and over again. At least Enrique’s cruelty is obvious. Sasha offered me protection, protection I never would have needed had my father been alive. I hate him. I hate Enrique.

  I will end them all.

  After a couple of hours of restless sleep, I get out of bed. The first pink-hued rays of dawn creep through the glass balcony doors. I slide them open and close my eyes, inhaling the chilled morning air. I linger outside and watch the sun rise high into the sky until the heat sears my skin and has a drop of sweat rolling down my spine.

  There are a hundred things I should think about, but only one takes precedent—Sasha. My mind muddles through every interaction, each whispered word, the tiny singular moments that make up a relationship with one person. I wonder if I should have known it was him. Did I miss a cue? Does Gabi know? No, she can’t.

  Slowly, the hurt, loss, and betrayal turn to despair, and pure, unbridled rage. I came here for one reason. I married Enrique for revenge. And I will have it.

  Pushing to my feet, I go back inside. A newfound resolve settles over me like an impenetrable bubble where weakness and emotions that do not serve me cannot reach. It’s strangely numbing and relieving.

  In the bathroom, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Yesterday’s make up is streaked down my face in ugly lines. It’s a scarily accurate depiction of how I feel. I wash all evidence of the previous day from my skin, restoring my face to its natural state, though in truth, it’s not much better. My eyes look flat and lifeless, and shadows cling beneath them, seemingly a permanent fixture now. Picking up the hairbrush, I work it through the tangled mess left by hundreds of bobby pins.

  I need Enrique on my side, and I already know he wants to fuck me. He might have had me, but it wasn’t willingly. If I know him as I think I do, his ego needs me to actually want him. So, I find a sexy yet subtle sundress and check my reflection once more. It should do.

  As soon as I step out of my room, the aroma of toast and coffee greets me, drifting up from downstairs. I follow the scent to the kitchen. The low rumble of several voices comes from inside, and I linger just beyond the doorway. On a deep breath, my shoulders square before I step into the room. The second I do, a hush falls over the kitchen. Five men sit at a huge oak table in front of the window. Sunshine fills the room, painting the scene in a joyful hue. A pretty lie, like everything here. I recognize the men as some of Enrique’s guards, though I barely glance at them long enough to register their details. Enrique and scarface sit at the breakfast bar alone, apart from everyone else.

  I meet Enrique’s near-black eyes before his gaze narrows. For a moment, that’s where we stay, and I can see him trying to work out why I’m here. After a few seconds, he snaps his fingers.

  “All of you out,” he orders.

  There are a few grumbles before they all get up from the huge table and leave. Where once they would have eyed
me up and down with perverted smiles, they now keep their gazes trained on the floor. Perhaps they don’t want to get caught looking at their boss’s wife. Scarface is slower to move, watching me like I’m the dangerous one in the room. Maybe he knows I tried to kill Enrique. Good. Let them realize that I’m not the broken, little caged bird they think I am.

  When the room is finally empty and silent, I step forward.

  Enrique is his usual put-together self this morning: black suit, combed hair, and that air of arrogance that he wears like a second skin. There’s no hint of his drunken rape last night or my subsequent attempt to kill him. Even the cut I left on his skin is hidden beneath the crisp white collar of his shirt.

  “I didn’t expect to see you this morning,” he muses, eyes sweeping over my body as I approach.

  “What did you expect? For me to hide away?”

  “Naturally.” His lips twist into a mocking smirk that irritates me beyond words.

  He thinks me weak. Maybe I am. I’m not sure where the act stopped and my true self started to creep in. I wasn’t raised in the fold of the mafia like my sister. I’m simply the daughter of a man who did bad things. I was naive to think I could take on Enrique, but grief and the need for revenge will drive a person to do things they never thought they would.

  I pass behind him, where he sits at the breakfast bar. There was a time when I would have been scared to turn my back on Enrique, but that fear is curiously absent now. As I make a mug of coffee, I realize his presence doesn’t bother me like it once did. Today of all days—after what he did to me last night—it really should. I also know that my future will be defined by how I react now. I can be a victim or a phoenix, rising from the ashes. I need his respect, and self-pity won’t earn it for me.

  I take a seat at the breakfast bar across from him and clasp the mug between my hands. His eyes narrow, the usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. We sit like that for long moments, and I sense him assessing me, taking my measure. The lines that were drawn between us have shifted and morphed.

  When the intense silence is almost too much, he finally speaks. “You’re different today.”

  “I am.”

  Clearing his throat, he leans forward, bracing his elbows on the bar in front of him. “I’m struggling to see where this new-found confidence is coming from. You tried to kill me, and I’ve spent most of the morning debating whether you live or die.” He sits back again, a sick smile touching his lips. “I have what I need now, a legitimate claim to your family business.” So, he no longer needs me. Again, the fear that should come with that is simply absent. “You married me to try to kill me.”

  I can’t deny it. The slice on his neck is proof enough. “Yes.”

  “You are more Eduardo’s daughter than I thought.” Something flashes through his dark irises.

  My fists clench at the sound of my father’s name on his tongue, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

  “I see you still want me dead.”

  On a deep breath, I force a layer of calm to settle over me.

  Enrique isn’t stupid, and so I don’t even try to lie.

  I stare at him, allowing the hate I feel to bubble to the surface. “You ordered my father dead. You raped me.”

  He lifts a brow. “You’re my wife.”

  My jaw clenches so hard, a sharp ache reverberates through the muscles. I don’t want his backward excuses for the fact that he’s an animal.

  “And should you survive, you will learn your place.”

  Learn my place. Anger washes over me, hot and fast. I get a grasp on the fireball and crush it until it’s nothing more than a smoking lump of coal, and then I wrestle it down to a place where I can no longer feel anything. Anger serves no purpose here. Wait, should I survive…

  Taking his wallet from his pocket, he removes a coin, tossing it in the air a couple of times. “Heads or tails?” he asks. So, my fate comes down to the toss of a coin.

  My pulse ticks up until I can hear it drumming in my ears, but I stare him straight in the eye, even as he tosses the coin in the air and catches it. He slaps it down on the back of his hand and pauses.

  “Heads,” I say.

  He smiles, then lifts his hand before his gaze drops. I count to five in my head before he speaks. “Heads it is.” He almost sounds disappointed he won’t get to kill me.

  “Great. Now we need to talk. Things have changed.”

  He pushes to his feet and rounds the breakfast bar, leisurely moving to stand beside me. His fingers trail the length of my arm slowly, setting me on edge. The slightest brush of his lips meets my skin, but I don’t pull away. Even the disgust I should feel is muted to nothing but cool indifference. I’m now trapped in a game where manipulation is key because I need him for what comes next. Whether I like it or not, Enrique has power, money, and reach. If this all plays out the way I intend, I’ll need that.

  “Nothing has changed, principessa. That ring, means nothing because you were already mine,” he whispers against my ear.

  “I wanted to kill the man who killed my father, but that isn’t you.”

  “No, it’s not. So, what are you going to do?” he asks, his voice luring.

  I slowly turn, meeting his gaze. “I’m going to kill Sasha Ivanov,” I vow. And then I’m going to kill Enrique.

  Reaching up, I trail my fingertips over the dark stubble of his jaw. His eyes drop to my lips, and I have to suppress a smile. He may be intelligent and ruthless, but at his root, he’s a man, driven by base desires. Manipulated by primal urges. And he wanted me, not my beautiful sister, or any of the other powerful mafia daughters. Me. I remember every single time I’ve looked at him, the desire I’ve seen in his eyes. Leaning in, I brush my lips over his. Staggered breaths rush over my skin, and I know I have him, so I kiss him. I feel nothing, neither repulsion nor lust, just…nothing. His hands hit my waist, turning me on the stool and tugging me closer. I bite his bottom lip hard enough to taste the metallic twang of blood. He groans before tearing himself away with a hard expression.

  “You think you can play games with me, principessa?”

  I grip his jaw and swipe my thumb over his bottom lip, wiping away the spot of blood. For the first time since I arrived here, Enrique will be my toy. “No games. Sasha Ivanov killed my father, and then he killed your brother. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  “So, you want to be friends?” A wry smile plays over his lips.

  “No. We’re married. Two of the most powerful Sicilian families bound together.” I stand, my chest pressing flush to his as I bring my lips to his ear. “Together, we could be unstoppable.” When I meet his eyes, I see the lust swimming in them. Not for me, but the kind of power that makes families invincible. “But first, I need him dead.”

  “Barely twelve hours ago, you tried to kill me, principessa. You’ve made us enemies from the start.”

  “I thought you killed my father.”

  He’s every bit as responsible as Sasha, maybe even more so, and I will absolutely get to him. But he didn’t allow me to trust him, to love him, all while knowing he’d brought about my father’s end. Sasha did that.

  “Deliver me his killer, and all will be forgiven.”

  Enrique’s eyes drop to my lips again, then lower, where the material of my dress dips to reveal the tops of my breasts. He wants to tame you. I hear Gabriella’s words. Perhaps that is what he wants, but I’ll play this twisted game of ours.

  He sighs. “Sasha Ivanov is not easy to kill.”

  “Not for you, but me…that’s a different story.”

  His eyes pinch, sinking faint lines into the corners of his eyes. “He doesn’t know that you know.”

  “No. And I have his trust.”

  He cocks a brow. “You want me to allow you to go to him?”

  My head tilts to the side, and I trail a finger over his chest, scratching my nail over the crisp white cotton of his shirt. “Allow? No. This is a marriage, Enrique. You can have a partnership,
or you can have a slave. But remember, power is forged with alliances. Are we allies? Or enemies?”

  It’s written all over his face; he doesn’t trust me. His fingers slide around my throat before gripping my jaw firmly. I’m forced to meet his unforgiving gaze.

  “You may kill him,” he spits through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening further until they dig into my skin. “But remember, you are mine, Adelina Bianchi. If you do not return, I will find you. And if that happens, I will make the rest of your life miserable. Do you understand?”

  “Perfectly.”

  He releases me with a shove. “It needs to look like you escaped. Better yet, make them believe you succeeded in killing me.”

  “Them?”

  “I know it was Nero Verdi and his Russian whore who helped you. Wherever Sasha Ivanov goes, The Kiss of Death is sure to follow. They wanted me dead, and you…” He strokes a strand of hair behind my ear. “You were the perfect, naïve little pawn.”

  I instinctively want to defend Nero and Una, because they helped me, and they have a child who doesn’t deserve Enrique’s wrath. But they played their part in Daddy’s murder, or at least Una did. I naïvely placed my trust in them. And Nero…he respected my father. Did he know as well?

  Enrique continues to stroke my cheek in a way that’s nothing short of unsettling, watching the realization play out on my face. “So naïve, my bride. Oh, how you tried. You danced so beautifully on their puppet strings.”

  I resent the statement, and my fists ball in response.

  “I will allow you to go to Sasha Ivanov and end him, but this is just the start. A war is coming, and you will be the first blow. Betray me, and I won’t let the Russians kill you. I’ll bring you back here and treat you like my own personal fuck doll.” His thumb drags over my bottom lip as he speaks through gritted teeth. “Remain loyal, and we will have everything. I wonder, will you let go of the past in order to live a beautiful future?”

  No. I have no loyalty now, not to anyone but Gabriella and myself. Enrique wanted a queen, well now he has one, and I will possess his kingdom by the time this is all said and done.