Devil Woman

Chapter 29

"Don't ruin my makeup."

"I won't, baby. Come on."

I grabbed our jackets and helped her into hers before wearing mine. She hooked her arm through mine, and we walked out of the hotel room. I kept my arms around her the entire walk until we got into the car, which I opened for her.

Omar still wanted to kill me, but I didn't care. The ride there was silent, and I couldn't stop touching her. My hands skirted over her dress, over her hips and chest, and she kept removing my hands only for me to touch her all over again.

I squeezed her thighs, and she gasped as I nuzzled my nose into her neck. I left kisses up and down the side of her neck.

"Just reapply your makeup," I whispered in her ear. "I need to fuck you, baby. I need you."

She scoffed mockingly. "Do you know how long it took me to do my makeup?"

I pulled away to look at her. "Like what? Thirty minutes?"

She smacked my chest. "An hour and a half."

"Oh. You're beautiful." I complimented her, and she gave me an unimpressed smile. "I think it's redundant to say that I think you're beautiful with or without it. Also, this feels like a trap I set for myself, but you truly are the most beautiful and astounding woman I've ever met in my life. God, I am so fucking in love with you."

Her gaze softened, and she lifted her chin to kiss my lips softly. "I love you, too."

The La Scala Opera House is extravagant and expensive. It was packed. The many chairs, levels, and private sections, each packed with couples and other fancy men and women.

The four-tier golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling that illuminated the entire house itself probably cost thousands, not including the small lights that hung every few feet from each other.

The seats and chairs were all red, the element on the walls and sides were all so intricate and detailed, and the ceiling itself was magnificent. The opera show we were watching was called Capuleti E I Montechii by Vincenzo Bellini.

Nyra informed me it was an almost three-hour show done in two parts. The opera show was inspired by the infamous tragedy and love story of Romeo and Juliet.

Nyra sat down in the comfortable chairs in the private room on the fourth level and handed me some binoculars. Shrugging off her coat, she sipped on the champagne they offered as she waited for the show to start. I didn't belong there.

I didn't belong in this life. Nyra belonged. This was Nyra's world, and even though we fit together in some aspects, there were many aspects that always showed me just how different we were.

It wasn't just the money and the brands. It was uncomfortable sometimes. I should be the one planning out our trips and paying for them. I should be the one buying her a dress, not the other way around.

It was pathetic because my worth was more than what I made, but this woman deserved it. She deserved the fucking best. I wanted to decorate her body with priceless jewels, sit her on a throne, place a crown on her head, and be at my knees for everything and anything she might ever need.

It was true I was in love with her, and I knew I'd always be in love with her. Love like this, love like ours, it'd never fade.

The day I stopped breathing, the day they put me in the ground, that was the only way you could ever truly take me away from Nyra. I wasn't leaving any other way.

The show played in the background, the actors on the stage dramatic, their voices strong and beautiful, but I wasn't even paying attention. I kept looking over to Nyra, who sat there in her gown, with her binoculars in her hand, as she watched the show.