The Lies They Told in Sicily

I was pressed against the kitchen counter, feeling my back dampen with cold sweat.

Fighting down the unease, I forced a smile at him. “Of course. I love you. I would never lie to you.”

He studied me quietly, lost in thought. I knew this man, when deeply suspicious, could at any moment pick up a gun and end my life. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a soft chuckle, his hand grazing my waist with a measured, almost casual pressure.

“Indeed,” he murmured. “It’s just a photo together… It doesn’t really prove anything.”

He released me, his smile light and effortless. He even picked up a ladle to stir the broth in the pot.

“Dinner’s ready, isn’t it? I’m hungry, Eliza,” he said, his gaze locked on me.

“Food’s ready. Just wait a moment.” I straightened my clothes, nodding. Only when my fingertips brushed the hem did I notice how soaked my back had become from the cold sweat.

During that meal, I chewed mechanically. Truthfully, every day with Mark felt the same, and I never truly tasted anything. My mind was always consumed with thoughts of dragging him down into hell for the sake of my family who had died.

That thought was driving me to the brink of madness until his relaxed voice cut through my spiraling thoughts.

“Eliza, a new shipment is arriving at the Port of Genoa tomorrow. You’ll handle it personally.”

I lifted my gaze over the spread of dishes and looked at him across the table.

“The buyer is cautious. Go alone. Don’t bring anyone with you.”

I froze for a moment, instinctively asking, “What kind of shipment is it?”

He met my eyes, a faintly enigmatic smile curling at his lips. I immediately understood that I wasn’t meant to know.

Mark had always been like that. Even with me, every move was guarded. It was why, after six years, I still hadn’t avenged my family.

I nodded and picked up my bag. “Alright, I’ll head out then. Tomorrow–”

As I passed him, he caught my wrist.

“What’s distracting you today?” His fingers traced the pulse point of my wrist, not letting go.

I forced a wry smile. “I handled a traitor betraying the family this afternoon. I might be a little tired from that.”

He said nothing, but he didn’t release me either. The room fell silent. I could feel the warmth of his fingertips against my skin, brushing over me slowly, deliberately.

“Baby… stay tonight, okay?” His voice softened.

I instinctively tried to refuse. “No, I still have–”

Before I could finish, he yanked me into his arms. He pressed me against the dining table, and before I could react, his lips were on my neck, his kiss carrying an almost violent possessiveness.

The dim lights flickered, and in my panic, I looked up at his eyes. There it was, an uncontrollable desire, and a terrifying kind of madness.