Dangerous Beauty: Part Four: Beautifully Broken (74 page)

“Braden’s dead …”

The two words came out of his mouth like fucking vomit surprising the shit out of Kyle. Why the fuck did he do that?! What was wrong with him? Why was he fucking afraid? He was Kyle Valente for Christ sake; he couldn’t believe he’d just fucking blurted that shit out!

Reanna’s eyes were empty, her face stunned and completely just … fucking drained. Kyle felt like the lowest piece of shit.

“Baby … are you going to say something?” Kyle asked, giving her a cautious smile. Perhaps if he made light of the situation, she wouldn’t freak out on him. So with a light shrug of his shoulder, gave her his best sheepish grin. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes widened. “Sorry?”

Okay … now Kyle was beginning to think the ‘make light of the situation’ idea was not as smart as he’d thought it was.

“You’re sorry!”

Kyle took a step back, lifting his hand when she’s screamed the words. “How about … I’m sorry for being sorry …”

Shit.

Never had he’d seen so much fury fall over a face so beautiful.

There had only been a two second window for Kyle to get to safety before the first of many of his size thirteen, Italian leather shoes was barreling straight toward his head.

He only dodged it by the grace of God.

“Reanna!” he shouted, shocked by the violence of it all, but he only had a second to react before another shoe was coming at him. “Ah!!”

“You son of a bitch!” she screamed. “You lied to me!”

Another shoe. Then another, and another after that. Kyle was ducking his own damn shoes left and right, front and back, side to fucking side.

“Reanna stop! It wasn’t me.” One caught him in his side. “Shit! Ahh, baby!” He whipped around to face her, shooting her a striking ‘what the fuck’ glare. “Reanna!”

“I can’t believe you!” she cried, tears pouring down her face. “How could you!”

Kyle felt bad. He felt horrible as shit. Not because the fucker was dead—he probably would have accidentally killed him himself anyway— but because Reanna was so obviously hurt. He fucking made her cry. He’d told himself that he would never do that.

Kyle reached out to her, his eyes genuinely pleading for her forgiveness. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

She stomped her foot. “Stop saying you’re sorry,” she screamed.

But why would he stop when he actually meant it.

“But, I didn’t mean for it to happen, Reanna.”

“Bullshit!” she argued. “You wanted him dead, admit it!”

Eyes widening, Kyle’s mouth twitched as he gave a light shrug of his shoulder. “Well … yeah,” he said honestly. “But you already knew that—”

She screamed, hurling two shoes at him back to back.

Kyle dropped to the floor, ducking for cover behind the opposite side of the island.

What the fuck?

Seriously! How many fucking shoes did he have?

“Reanna,” he roared. “Would you stop it with the fucking shoes!”

“You’re an asshole, Kyle!”

Yes, that was true. But he already knew that. So did she.

“I told you not to kill him. Begged you not to! But you did it anyway because you’re an asshole!”

She threw another that bounced off the wall, then shot back in his direction. Kyle shot out of its path. Damn!

“You don’t give a shit about me!”

“Hey!” Kyle quickly stood up, holding up his hands in surrender. “Hey, hey, you know that isn’t true, Reanna,” he reasoned with her. “I fucking love you. You know that.”

“You love me, but you don’t respect me!”

Another shoe, then another.

Kyle fell to the floor again, ducking for safety.

Seriously, what the fuck was happening to him right now. His damn bedroom was a war zone! And it was definitely worth noting that, for a little woman, his beautiful
colomba
had one hell of a right arm.

Kyle was impressed.

“You knew how much it meant to me that you show him mercy. I opened up to you! I was honest with you! And you betrayed my trust without even thinking of how much it’d hurt me!”

“But, baby, that’s not true.” Kyle moved to his knees and peaked his head over the island so that she could see the truth in his eyes. “I would never want to hurt you. I love you too much.”

She stomped her foot again, this time weeping as she did. “Stop saying you love me. You betrayed my trust, and told me you accepted me, but you lied.” Her weeping intensified as she brought her hands up to cover her face, and ran out of the closet.

Kyle jumped up from the floor, running after her. “Reanna!”

Shit!

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up big fucking time, just like he knew he would.

When he ran out of the closet he immediately looked toward the bedroom door, ready to run out after her if she was attempting to leave him, but to his surprise … the door was still closed.

He frowned, looking around the bedroom. “
Colomba
?”

Her soft sniffling then hit his ears dragging his gaze to where she was, on bended knee, in front of the large window, with her hands pressed together in front of her.

Kyle immediately went to her, falling to his knees next to her.

“Baby,” he placed a hand to her shoulder, only to have her jerk her shoulder away from him.

“I’m praying,” she whispered, lifting her teary eyes to the New York City sky. “I’m praying that God have mercy on our souls, and not send us straight to hell.”

Did Kyle want to smile at how cute she was, absolutely, but did he … Fuck no. He wasn’t about to get himself into a deeper shit pile then he was already in.

“Join me.”

He looked up at the sound of her soft voice.

“I said join me, Kyle,” she whispered, then she shot him a glare. “Now.”

Swallowing, Kyle nodded his head, turning to face forward as he made the sign of a cross, then clasped his hands.

“Lord,” she began. “We come to you … a Baptist and a Catholic …”

Kyle frowned, peaking over at her out of the corner of his eye.

“…to ask you to forgive us because we killed a man.”

When Kyle opened his mouth to correct her she shot him a look that made him bite his tongue.

That was fine. He’d just let her pray. If this would help move on from this, then he’d pray with her all night … though in all honesty, he’d rather be fucking her right now. She probably didn’t have on any panties under that t-shirt she was wearing.

Right as the thought crossed his mind a piercingly loud crack of thunder shook the sky.

Kyle flinched, his eyes immediately shooting to the heavens.

Alright, alright, he thought, refocusing his attention on the prayer.

He’d fuck his fiancé after the prayer.

“… Braden was an asshole, yes. And I said a lot of mean things about him secretly in my head today. But you have to understand me, Lord. He hit me, scared me, gave me bruises, made me cry, and I wanted him to burn in hell for it, of course … But I just wish he would have died of natural causes, and not by the hands of the man that is to be my husband.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. The woman was crazy, in denial all the damn time. She wanted the fucker dead to and she knew it.

But on a side note, this praying that they were doing together was kind of turning him on … Actually the whole damn fight with her tonight was turning him on.

Was he fucked up for that?

“… And in closing, Lord, yes; Kyle is a killer …”

Kyle’s brows rose.

“… but he’s also a good man, with a heart kinder than he’s willing to show people. He’s a good brother, a great son, an amazing father, and my lover and best friend, even though, a lot of the time he doesn’t appreciate me …”

Lies. He did appreciate her.

“… have mercy on his soul, dear Jesus …”

Aww. She was praying for his soul … She was so fucking sexy.

“… But if he ever,” she sighed, shaking her head. “And I mean ever, hurts my feelings the way he has tonight, Lord. I ask that you please, gather your strongest lightning bolts … and strike him down.”

Turning his head, Kyle looked at her, blinking. She’d said it so sweetly, too. Like she hadn’t just asked God to strike him with lightening while a storm was brewing outside.

“Amen,” she smiled.

“Really, Reanna?” he asked, shocked, and a bit charmed, by the unexpected turn of her prayer.

She looked back at him, her eyes squinting in a scowl before she stood up, and stormed away from him without a word.

Kyle sighed, dropping his hand to his side in exhaustion. “Come on,
colomba
.” When would this madness end!

The fucker was an asshole for Christ sakes! Was it really that fucking devastating that he was dead?

Kyle stood up from the floor. “
Colomba
,” he called to her.

But she said nothing.

She threw the comforter back on the bed, climbed onto her side, and laid down, her back facing his side of the bed.

This was what women did, right? When they were angry? They killed men with fucking silence!

“Reanna,” he called her again, his jaw tightening with annoyance.

And again, she said nothing.

“Really!” he snapped. “Over this fucking guy, Reanna?”

Silence.

“Fine!” Kyle stormed for the bedroom door. “Fuck this.”

Opening the door, Kyle walked out and slammed it behind him, then made his way down the hallway, to the kitchen.

This was fucking bullshit! Kyle thought as he yanked open his liquor cabinet, and pulled out an open bottle of whisky and a glass.

He poured himself a glass. Then another. Then one last glass for good measure, downing the shot in a matter of seconds.

Swallowing the burning liquor, Kyle sighed, placing his hands flat on the counter as he hung his head forward in frustration.

Was this it?

Was this what marriage would be like for him? Fucking … arguments, and dodging shoes, and feeling sorry for shit he wouldn’t normally feel fucking sorry for?

Kyle lifted his head, frowning in thought as he looked ahead.

Was it even worth it? He asked himself, even as he poured one last shot of whiskey.

After taking his last drink, he dropped the glass in the sink, then headed back down the hallway to his bedroom.

She was still on the bed when he entered, silent as a mouse, and her back was still turned to him.

Kyle stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, and immediately began removing his clothes. He shed his shirt, his pants, his shoes, and his socks, tossing them all aside before walking over to his side of the bed …

Reanna sniffled, wiping her teary eyes as she tried her best to ignore him.

She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t even want to look at him, for fear that it’d break her resolve.

She was angry with him. And even more angry with herself, for being angry with him for all the wrong reasons.

She didn’t know!

Dear God
, what was wrong with her? She should be running right now! A man was murdered for Christ sakes. Why wasn’t she freaked out? She should have been shaking, or calling the cops, or waving a knife at Kyle’s face telling him to get away from her, and fearing for her life. But after he’d told her what had happened, after he’d admitted what he’d done, then shrugged like it was nothing, all Reanna had thought was
‘Seriously’
.

After she’d opened up to him. Told him how she felt about death. Asked him to accept her the way she accepted him. Then begged him not to kill Braden because it would compromise her trust in him, he basically just gave her a big ‘fuck you’ then did whatever he wanted to do in the first place!

Asshole!

Reanna didn’t give a shit about Braden … A part of her even thought it was sweet that Kyle wanted Braden dead for what he did.

Which was fucked-up on so many levels, yes! But she already knew that, and she planned on questioning her own humanity later.

But even still! Kyle totally disregarded her feelings, lied to her about accepting her for who she was, then just shrugged it off as if it was nothing. As if he didn’t just slap her in the face, as if he didn’t just hurt her stupid feelings.

He was an asshole! Reanna thought, suddenly burying her face in the pillow as her weeping began once again. Her fiancé was a gorgeous, crazy, homicidal,
clueless
asshole.

The jerk still thought she was only mad because he’d killed Braden, which, yeah, she was. Even though she knew he wasn’t the one that had done it personally, she knew him well enough to know that he’d already done it in his mind.

The asshole.

“Baby,” she heard him whisper behind her, right before the bed dipped in, and he got under their comforter. “Baby … are you still awake?”