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"Don't. Say. That.Ever. Again!" I growled right in her face.
Her breathing was fast and shallow, and fear was evident in her eyes. I had heard the rumors and had never done anything to deny them. I didn't care what people thought or believed. However, I did not want to hear words of that nature in my house, in my presence.
She didn't know what she was talking about. She didn't know a single detail of the story. How could she throw such a statement into the room? Did she really think I was capable of killing my wife?
"Why are you so angry?" she asked in a trembling voice, hardly daring to look me in the eye.
My blood rushed through my ears, as did all the emotions that gripped my body.
"Because she died in my arms, and I couldn't stop it. I didn't kill her, but I also wasn't there when it would have mattered most to her."
I saw how the realization slowly sank into Amedea, but I did not attach any further importance to it. She had spoken the words, and whatever her goal, she had succeeded above all in widening the distance between us.
For a few seconds, we stared at each other. I was still caught up in my anger. Amedea was busy trying to get rid of her fear.
A steep wrinkle formed on her forehead. She tilted her head, her gaze falling from my eyes to my mouth.
Immediately I knew what she was up to, yet I did not manage to drop her in time and push her away. I had come too close, and she used that shamelessly.
Her lips crashed against mine, my pulse shot up, and the anger returned. At first, I did nothing, watching as she tried to get under my skin and cause a reaction that confirmed her previous statement.
Amused, she stared at me, small laugh lines forming around her eyes. Her lips were still on mine, caressing me gently. I felt her tongue before she unexpectedly withdrew. "Are you afraid,Enzo?" she asked challengingly. Cheekily.
I let go of her upper arms, so she landed on her feet and had to look up at me.
Fear?
Was she serious? Apparently, it worked, at least, because in me rose the need to prove her wrong.
Shaking my head, I let out a growl, grabbed the back of her head – small enough to fit perfectly in my hand – and yanked her against me to finish what she had started.
I proved to her that I had by no means forgotten how to kiss a woman in such a way that she felt like the center of the damn universe. I noticed how she sharply drew in air, her fingers clasped in my top and barely able to oppose my kiss, which was more angry than emotional.
I tasted blood. Mine? Hers? It didn't matter. No one had told her it was wise to go so far out on a limb.
For a brief moment, instead of Amedea, I imagined I was looking at Rina. She had been taller. Had had more curves. Smelled differently.
Simultaneously with this realization, the illusion burst, so I grabbed Amedea by the upper arms again, tore myself away from her, and pushed her far away from me. As if I had been burned.
Triumphantly, she looked at me. "You seem to have plenty of passion left," she said, surprised at how the last few minutes had gone.
More wrinkles formed on her forehead, her cheeks reddened, and I could see she had not found the kiss terrible.
Warningly, I looked at her. "Not another word about this nonsense about whether I killed my wife. And no more attempts to prove to myself that I can be someone else for a while. It's not working. So don't do it."
Of course, she didn't believe a word of it. That was clear from her posture. Nevertheless, nothing would change in my opinion. It had been a mistake to react to her challenge at all.
"This won't happen again," I hissed, leaving her in the kitchen with her food.
Stupidly, my body told me exactly what it thought of the kiss and the incidental physical contact.Merda.
10
Amedea
With my arms crossed, I looked toward the enclosure and wondered if I should ask Vincenzo to introduce me to the animals. He could touch them. Surely there had to be fixed feeding times that I could attend.
I had spent half of last night searching for the rescued animals and reading up on how this extraordinary adoption went down. I probably would have read through a book on rocket science, too, if it had distracted me long enough from the thoughts floating around the edge of my brain, waiting to burst into the forefront.
