Page 121 of Blood Vows

He looked at her. “Are you always this bossy with people you just met?”

“You have blood on your face,” she pointed out.

“It’s just cuts from glass,” he said.

“You don’t know that,” she insisted.

“I do,” he challenged.

“How are you so sure?” she asked.

“Because I can still think, which means that I didn’t take a bullet to the head,” he said.

“That isn’t a medical diagnosis.” His mouth twitched, and she could tell that he seemed pleased with himself. The SUV turned into an underground parking garage and a gate closed behind them. Marco parked, and the second the engine stopped, Valentina unbuckled and turned toward him.

“Let me see your face,” she ordered.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, trying to shoo her away.

“Move your hand,” she said.

“I said that I’m fine,” he growled. Marco stared at her, and she stared back at him. Finally, he sighed, and she could see some of the fight leave his eyes. “Fine.” Valentina leaned across the center console to assess the cut near his temple. It was shallow, and probably from glass, as he already guessed.

She exhaled. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she grumbled.

“You thought I’d been shot,” he guessed.

“Yes,” she admitted. Something in his eyes changed.

“Would that bother you?” he asked. She froze when she realized that he was too close. Or maybe, she was too close to him. His face was inches from hers, and his dark eyes were watching her. Valentina pulled back.

“You’re protecting me,” she said.

“That wasn’t what I asked,” he reminded.

“No, it wasn’t.” Marco leaned slightly closer. She should have moved, but she didn’t.

“Would it bother you?” he asked again.

“Yes.” The answer came before she could stop it, and his expression shifted. She didn’t see victory looking back at her or even arrogance. It was something quieter. Valentina hated how much that affected her. She cleared her throat. “Because I don’t want anyone getting killed because of me.”

Marco’s eyes stayed on hers. “That’s not what you meant.”

“You don’t know what I meant,” she spat.

“I’m very good at knowing what people mean.”

“And I’m very good at numbers,” she said.

His mouth curved. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I don't know. I panicked and said the first thing that came to mind,” she said. He laughed—actually laughed, and Valentina stared at him.

Marco stopped. “What?”

“You laugh,” she said. “I didn’t think that mobsters laughed, but you just did.”