Page 110 of The Man with a Treasure

Even though I knew it would be life-changing, I replied, “No.” I needed to get away from her before I took her to the floor and climbed on top of her like a mindless animal who was bred only to pleasure her.

“Liar,” claimed my friend who refused to help me out.

Insecurity ran out in Scarlett’s next questions. “Why? Why won’t you touch me like that?”

Headed to the kitchen, Sal didn’t help me in the slightest, so I asked Scarlett, “Like what?”

“The movie.”

“Because you do not know what you are asking of me.”

The disturbing chuckle that erupted from Scarlett was a pure warning of what was to come. “I am very aware of what being fucked by a man feels like.”

The notion that she dared compare my lovemaking to their rapes added to my already growing fury. I marched back to her and sneered in her face, “See? You don’t know. I wouldn’t fuck you.” My ravenous hands gestured to her whole body as I growled, “I would worship you.”

My eyes raked over her thighs and how slipping between them would be a fucking dream come true, when she said, “Then worship me.”

Her set shoulders had my hands aching for a touch, but I reined in my hunger and headed back to the kitchen again. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I have already explained. You will be someone else’s.”

From behind me, she fought for herself. Most of all, I think she was fighting for us. “I already explained to you that I will not have been rescued from one captivity only to be placed in another!”

I fought to give her what I thought was right. “You will go where I tell you to go.”

“Angelo,” warned Sal.

Done with the fucker who wasn’t supporting me as I tried to do right by Scarlett, I spun on my heel and yelled in Italian, “I need your fucking help right now!”

“What do you think I am offering, you one-balled moron?”

“I am not being a coward!”

He yelled, “Then what the fuck do you call running away from one of the only women who will ever love all your insanely brutish ways?”

“I can’t be just some guy she has sex with—”

I wanted to say, “before she married,” but Scarlett suddenly roared, “Speak English!”

Sal slightly bowed to Scarlett as he told me, “Angelo, she does not see you as merely someone to have sex with.”

My whole body seized. Why did he have to repeat that in English? That wasn’t what I meant.

“Here!” Suddenly, the piano screamed wicked notes of Scarlett’s fury as she slammed down her hands. “You kissed me here!”

“Yes!” Sal held his wine glass so high I suspected he was in cahoots with God. “Yes, Italian woman! Show us your fight!”

“I am not broken!” Sour notes echoed as if shouting to me the torture of Scarlett’s life.

With his wine high in the air again, Sal celebrated, “This woman is fresh, invigorating air to cleanse your decrepit soul.”

Decrepit? I had no time for Sal. Scarlett needed me. She wanted my opinion, even though I only wanted her own to matter to her. So, I went to her, as I knew I always would, even if having to hide my true feelings from the Giordanos. “I believe you. I do. But you have been through so much. Your past—”

Her voice trembled, “Then give me something worth holding on to in my future.”

“And there it is!” cheered my friend, who was actually starting to make sense. “Hope. Faith. What beautiful words, no?”