Page 23 of Relentless Pursuit

“The very last thing you should do is lie to me, Penelope.”

My shoulders sagged. “I tried to call his bluff. I said my father—his son—would never allow him to do this to me. And he…” I sucked in another deep breath. “He said my father would kill me if my grandfather instructed him to. That his loyalty was with the Niccolò Cartel.”

“Your father; the Clyde you spoke of previously?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “And what about your mother?”

“He didn’t mention her, and neither did I. At that point in our argument, I was too drained to say anything more.”

“You believed him?”

“I didn’t want to, but the possibility was there.”

“So, I should kill your father then?”

My eyes widened. “No. No.” I shook my head. “Dominic, please. You’ve done enough. I don’t want you involved in any more murders.”

A dark, twisted, sinister laugh escaped him, and I shivered.

“I gave you the option to leave. Why didn’t you take it?”

“I told you why.” I hesitated. “Do you want me to go?”

Silence filled our space, and he took a few more steps into the room. My eyes crawled over the way his crew-neck shirt fit his muscular frame. The all-black attire fit him like it was made for him, and I wanted more than anything to run into his arms.

“Are you afraid of me now?”

I frowned and whispered, “No.”

“Then why are you standing by the door, as if you wish to exit?”

I glanced at the open door, grabbed the frame, closed it behind me, and walked toward him.

We were mere inches in front of each other. And I could feel his dark energy radiating off him.

“I’m not afraid of you, Professor Lucas.” His dark gaze softened. “Are you afraid that I am an enemy of yours because of what you’ve found out tonight?”

“Are you?”

My heart broke a little. I could feel the squeeze in my chest and almost lost my breath.

“No. Never.”

“We have a problem, Penelope.”

“Which is what?”

We stared at each other, and I could tell he considered his next words before speaking them. “I’m in love with you.”

My eyes widened, and tears sprang from my eyes. My body trembled, and I sucked in my cries to respond. “That’s not a problem. That’s not a problem!” I repeated.

“It is.”

“Why?”

“My father said there’s no room for love in the dark, twisted corridors of my soul.”