A Beautiful Crime

Chapter 21

Constantine POV

Maddening. Infuriating. Sufferable.

Ten nights and tens days of avoiding her has driven me to insanity.

Her scent, the sweet and pleasing scent of cherries I have only been gifted the barest hints of.

I've truly gone mad.

Crazed.

Obsessed.

I find myself lurking in corners of our home, yes, ours, despite her abhorrent thoughts, to catch a glimpse of her.

And when I do I feel the rush of endorphins and desire that only she can give me. I savor it, like a seasoned addict, and when she leaves, just like the addict who can't help themself, I crave the next sight of her.

Yet craving the sight of her isn't even the worst part. Out of my addictions there's one that truly stands to test them all.

My problem is now I've tasted her.

I know what those seductive and stubborn lips taste like. How pliable and unyielding they became. For a sinner, those lips felt like atonement. And the taste, her taste had me wanting to go down on my knees and worship her like my very own altar.

One taste, one taste and that's all it took for Carina to become my religion.

I'm her one man cult.

"You know," Pietro drawls with amusement, "if you hit him any more we won't be able to question him."

I flex my hand, my busted and blood soaked knuckles sore from the action.

I take a glance at the man before me. Shackled by a meat hook that has already done permanent damage to his spine and yet his eyes hold onto hope to be released to live a life of paralysis.

Now those shit stained eyes are swollen to the point of closure. Hues of black and blue covering his face like an abstract painting. Curly blonde hair matted with blood. A jaw that is surely dislocated.

Even if he wanted to talk he wouldn't be able to.

I flex my hand again, this time out of frustration.

I've always been a man of control. Compartmentalizing my emotions from work and doing what's necessary. I've always been this way. My father made sure of it.

And yet with Carina I am a man without control.

It shouldn't come to a surprise to anyone, least of all myself.

I've never been in control when it comes to Carina Fiore. Not since the moment I laid eyes on her.

She bewitched me. Consumed my thoughts. Ensnared my heart.

Carina Fiore has a hold on me that all my enemies wish they could have.

And I say this as a man not ashamed, she's the only person on this Earth who can break me.

Power.

Carina has the ultimate power over me and I don't think she can even grasp it.

Frustrated at our situation I strike another punch at the thug before me, except this time I unknowingly deliver the final blow.

His head hangs at an unnatural angle as blood spills from his orifices.

And I wait for the regret to come. As I do with every man I wait for the emotion that would make me an honorable man.

It never comes.

It never will.

"Perhaps if I purchase an Ouija Board we can talk to him from the dead," Pietro quips and it falls on deaf ears. He glances between Rico and I and shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Tough crowd," he mutters before leaving us with his phone to his ear sputtering orders to the cleaning crew.