Page 24 of Whispers in the Dark
“Umm, sir?” We both look over, finding one of the guards standing by the edge of the ring. He hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “Should I leave? Or…”
Mauro sighs and shakes his head before carefully removing himself from me. He offers me his hand, pulling me up until I’m directly against his chest. His fingers reach out, pushing back some loose strands of my hair and tucking them behind my ear. And then he turns and hops out of the ring, leaving me completely shell-shocked.
“Marry…me?”
The two words echo across my skull.
Like a pleasant melody I never want to forget.
And all I can think is…Yes.
Chapter six
Mauro
Awhite puff of breath forms before my lips as I exhale, testing the weight limit of the banister while I lean against it, soaking in the view of the snow-covered mountains in the distance, illuminated only by the full moon. After a few minutes, the bitter cold seeps through the fabric of my jacket, but I don’t register its harsh sting or the snow that coats my hair.
My shoulders slump, and I hang my head low, my fingers curling tightly around the freezing metal. I asked Alina to marry me as casually as if I had asked her how the weather was.
What the hell was I thinking?
I let out a sigh as the familiar pain—deep and scathing—resonates in my throat from having spoken those two words.
Two words I never imagined I’d voice in this lifetime.
Marry…me?
And what was I honestly expecting her to say?
Her stone-cold silence and the sheer panic in her eyes were all I needed to see without her saying a single word.
That’s for damn sure.
Frustrated, I turn, stepping toward the glass door when I catch sight of my own reflection. Instinctively, I reach up, tracing a finger along the scar that stretches across my neck. The most visible one amongst the sea of scars that litter my body.
I take in the sight of my disheveled appearance: my hair, with half of it held back by an elastic band, while the rest blows wildly in the wind. Clothes: a Henley shirt hidden by a bomber jacket, denim jeans that have seen better days, and work boots in need of a wax coating, worn for practicality and not style.
My palm grazes across my unruly beard, which could certainly use a good trim. The sight of dried blood appears across my knuckles. Blood that isn’t mine, but the latest victim of my wrath.
A hideousbeast. That’s what I am.
I shake my head as I reach for the handle, sliding the door open with more force than necessary.
Alina shouldn’t be with someone like me.
She’s too beautiful.
Too innocent.
Too everything I’m not.
But the thought of any other man pretending to be her husband, of them being in her presence, touching her, or even just looking at her, makes my fingers curl into a tight fist while my chest constricts uncomfortably.
Rubbing my hand over my chest, I step inside, stomping my boots on the mat before tossing my jacket onto the back of the nearest chair. The smell of my dinner in the oven sweeps over me, momentarily distracting me from my thoughts as I make my way toward the fireplace, where I begin to stack some logs.
A quiet night by a fire with a belly full of meat and a glass of whiskey in my hand is exactly what I need right now.
Just as the fire crackles, emitting heat into the room, the doorbell rings. I toss one last piece of wood onto the flames to really get it going, then make my way to the front door, not bothering to check the security footage on my phone. It’s probably one of my brothers coming to interrupt my evening of solitude.
