All Chapters of It Kills Me: A Forbidden Dark Romance: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

My husband and I went to dinner that night. It wasn’t a romantic night on the town for the two of us, but a work event for him. I wasn’t sure if he had a client or some other connection because my husband wore a lot of different hats.When we arrived, he pulled out my chair for me like he always did, and then we sat across from a man in his late fifties with a woman who looked like she could be his daughter. Beautiful in a scandalous dress, she had only one purpose, and that was to look stunning on his arm.I was used to this sort of thing because I’d been in this world for so long, but it still surprised me that people lived this way, lived lives very different from the average person.The wine was ordered, along with an appetizer, and then the men got down to business.“Tyrone has been a cockblock to my business for a long time,” the man said. “We formed a partnership when we were in our early twenties, but he’s gone off the deep end in the last few years. Because of the contracts w

“Tell me your name.”For a brief moment, I forgot what it was. “Astrid.”He continued his stare.“Yours?” I had his last name, but not his first.“Theo.”My eyes dropped to his hand, seeing the enormous rock on his finger, a piece of jewelry that was probably worth more than all the paintings in this gallery. It was so striking and potent, there was no way people didn’t notice it—and that was the way he wanted it. “That’s an interesting ring.”He didn’t look down at his left hand. Didn’t seem to care about the comment I made or feel pressured to address the questions I never asked.“I’ll deliver your paintings and arrange for them to be hung on your wall.” The energy that emitted from him was just as substantial as the energy from all these paintings, their ability to evoke a range of emotions with just the color of their paints. “I can probably get this done tomorrow⁠—”“Let’s have dinner.” He spoke over me like he hadn’t been listening to a word I said, just watched my lips move whi

Days passed. Even though he was home, we didn’t spend time together.I was too angry.He gave me my space. We didn’t share meals together. We didn’t sit on the couch together. I slept in the primary suite, and he took a guest room. Time went by, and slowly, the boiling anger turned to a simmer.I wasn’t sure what to do, but I knew we had to talk about it.He sat in his study working on his laptop, the hearth warm with a fire that lit up the dark room. For a hit man, he did a lot of paperwork, and I didn’t understand what he did on that computer.I walked inside, and it took him a moment to notice me.He lifted his gaze and stared at me.I stared back.When I didn’t yell at him, he slowly closed the lid of his laptop to give me his full attention.I sat in one of the armchairs.He continued to stare at me as he waited for me to say something.I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say.He came around the desk and sat in the other armchair, his chin propped on his closed knuckles, his elbow on

He reached for his hand and twisted the ring off his thick knuckle. Then he placed it on the table in front of me, the diamond casting a spectrum of colors against the window. It glittered in the light of the candle.I reached my fingers toward it. “May I?”He nodded.I took the ring and stilled when I felt how warm it was. I’d expected it to be cold like a stone sitting in the winter fog, but it was hot like fire, because his skin burned like the sun. I’d never touched him, but now I knew how my palm would feel against his chest, how warm my fingers would feel if I touched his arm. If I were tucked into his bed with him beside me, I would sweat from the heat. I wouldn’t need a heater or a fire because he was more than enough. The ring was heavy as I’d assumed, its concentrated mass making it like a paper weight. After I examined it for several seconds, I returned it to the center of the table. “That’s an interesting ring…”He twisted it back onto his knuckle and took a drink. “I have

THEOI entered the De Luca, one of the restaurants that I owned, a respectable business that washed my money and housed my criminal activities—and none of my customers had a clue. They got their reservations for anniversaries and birthday celebrations, not knowing about the underworld that lay below.The lights were left on, but the restaurant was dark, the tables covered in fresh tablecloths in preparation for the next day. The floor had been swept and mopped. After the closing crew locked the doors and set the alarm, my crew descended into the depths.There was a stairway at the back of the kitchen, locked during business hours. One time, my manager had asked what was behind the door, and when I didn’t answer, he didn’t ask again. I took the circular staircase down to the bottom, far below the restaurant, to the bunker that had been reconstructed into a bar. There were other passageways that led here through the sewer system, but I preferred not to go that way.When I stepped throug