Page 22 of Vicious Secrets
I open my mouth to answer, but a dry cough escapes instead. Hands clasp my shoulders, and he lowers down to my eye level. His piercing eyes search my face. I lick my painfully dry lips and try to speak again. Nothing comes out.
“Breathe, Robyn.”
I will my lungs to comply with Siro’s demand, but they won’t yield to either of us. My jaw shakes, eyes sliding closed as I fight off lightheadedness.
An exhale finally exits my nose. I inhale, but the precious breath reactivates my voice before oxygen can repair the filter between my brain and my mouth.
“I’m a debt?” I croak.
Siro’s hands stiffen. My eyes fly open to see him staring back at me. The whites of his eyes are on full display as his gaze darts about, his lips parted from a slack jaw, and his breaths shallow.
Terror tries to kick my legs out from under me. As I go slack in Siro’s clutch, he guides us down to sit on the floor.
“You didn’t know?” The question sounds unnatural in his voice, like he’s learning a new language and having his first go at speaking a complete sentence.
I can’t respond. Not with my voice. Not with a shake of my head. The raw emotion on his face holds me in place more than his hands on my shoulders.
“I caught your stepfather selling to the Russians on Fedeltà turf. Oscar offered you in exchange for me dropping the threats against him.”
Siro’s the violent rival… Siro threatened to hurt my mom and me… Siro would have killed me without a second thought if it weren’t for my worthiness as a bride.
My vision blacks out. I gag on my own saliva. The vulnerability shining through on Siro’s face a moment ago haunts the blackness.
A voice screams in my head, begging me to pull myself together and fight back. If I pass out in his grasp, who knows what he’ll do. Limited emotions mean limited control.
“Robyn? Robyn!” Siro’s voice sounds underwater.
“What’s going on?” Fabi’s voice joins in. It’s clearer than my husband’s.
“Siro was going to kill me,” I hear myself say.
“No. No, Robyn. No one was going to kill you. No one’s going to kill you.” I don’t know who’s speaking.
A hand strokes through my hair. Something cold compresses my forehead.
“Let me go.” I swallow and lick my lips.
I blink slowly. The living room comes back into view, albeit a little fuzzy. My body is draped over Siro’s lap. My head is in the crook of his arm, with my hips on his thighs and my legs splayed out.
I stare up at him. His brows knit together, and his lips in a flat line. But his chest bumps me with each short breath. There’s a hint of concern in his eyes. Likely because he’d lose face if his wife died only two weeks into marriage.
Anger trickles into my veins, fraying the edges of my mind. He’s held this knowledge over me for weeks. I want to put Siro in his place, but I don’t know what or where that is.
Fabi leans into view. He changes out a towel on my forehead. I don’t miss the look of disapproval he sends in his boss’s direction as he leaves.
“Did Fabi know too?” I ask.
Siro’s lips part, but Fabi beats him. “Yes.”
My husband’s eyes flick up to where I assume my bodyguard is lingering, and they narrow. He rises to his feet, cradling me against his chest. “Do you need to be reminded of your place, DeLuca?”
“No, Boss.”
“Good. Stay put. I have business to attend to tonight,” Siro says as he crosses the living room.
“Please put me down.” My voice shakes. For all I know, my whole body is shaking, and Siro’s arms are holding me so tightly I don’t feel it.
He carries me into the bedroom and places me on my side of the bed.
