Heart of Stone - Stone and Fire #1 [17+] (REWRITING)

Chapter 14

Stop.

"I thought you took the hint yesterday afternoon. He was looking at you like he wanted to devour you whole. Even my legs went jelly."

"I mean, yeah.. but he does that to irritate me. That's practically why he chose to marry me rather than those porcelain-doll copies from Russia."

Or was I saying that to convince myself rather than her?

"Sometimes that's exactly what men want. For your anger to reach a boiling point until confrontation's the last resort. And then, face to face, you realize it's better to get the anger out of your system another way. A better way."

I could almost feel her wink through the slow, taunting words.

I felt itchy everywhere. Not in a good way, but the heat in my body spoke otherwise. Did I want it?

Yes.

My brows furrowed as I contemplated. It would be my first time since.. a while. And then I thought. Real hard. I didn't know him well enough to trust him. I couldn't. Not when Petrov was his right-hand man. And although I had faith he was a man well off from the influence of others, I couldn't rely on a half-truth to stay confident that nothing bad would happen.

And judging by my past, morality was a real fucking traitor.

I couldn't.

"I can't." It was a mutter under my breath.

"And that's fine, too. If anything, stay celibate for however fucking long you want. I'll be there in thirty, va bene?"

My best friend knew me well enough to see me nod my head.

My phone buzzed with her text exactly thirty minutes later, and I quickly pat some setting powder on the side of my neck. The divot of the scar was still there, but the ugly colored skin wasn't.

My eyes lodged onto the corner of the dresser, where amidst everything else, my engagement ring lay. I stared at it for a good three minutes. Men didn't stop because of a ring. Pre-Petrov, I always made sure to investigate before inviting myself to a man or woman. Since I never involved myself with people from the Cosa Nostra, almost all those marriages were faithful- and messing up relationships, among all, was a line I didn't cross. Ever. Also, it would be a bloody mess.

The diamond shone under the light. It could, however, give me some protection. The gem was big, and that would be enough to shoo any lee-ways or creeps off.

I took the few steps there, picked it up, and slipped it onto my ring finger, vowing I wouldn't look at it all night. And if I did end up.. fornicating, I could just drop it into my purse and seal it tight.

I checked to make sure my gun-

Fuck.

Where was my gun?

I scrambled to open drawers and my closet- but I already knew it wasn't here. I hadn't even packed it.

Shit.

I never left the house alone without my gun.

The one thing that gave me the control I needed without depending on anybody. My fists weren't enough to beat a man, but a bullet to the heart was.

I've always found them fascinating. Such versatile things, guns, that come in sizes so small you would never expect a woman to have one hidden under her dress in the middle of a masquerade ball. Mysgonistic as fuck, but still,  I had that confirmation in the back of an alley some months ago.

An alley where I lay dirty, used, and broken. It was the one moment I needed something like a gun. Fast, barely pricked with guilt, and something that I could've used to end the pain.