He crossed the room in a few long strides. He flipped me upright, then pushed me down onto a sofa and stood standing over me, staring down in murderous rage, fists clenched, dark hair falling into his eyes.
My mouth went dry. He loved me. I knew he loved me. But at that moment, I would have sworn he was also perfectly capable of wringing my neck.
I kept my voice steady. “Before you do anything, you should know that if you lay a hand on me in anger, it will be the end of us.”
Nico’s lips thinned. Deadly soft, he said, “Katherine. So help me God. One. More. Word.”
“Nico—”
He lunged at me. I squealed, sounding like a mouse when it spots the cat in midjump. But he caught me before I could bolt. His weight pinned me against the sofa cushions. His hands curled around my upper arms. He gave
