"Mara…"
His voice had changed.
"You've never…?" he paused, as if trying to come to terms with the realisation.
He pulled back just a fraction, his chest rising and falling fast, his brain completely short-circuiting.
He had assumed. The entire world had assumed. She had been sold by her uncle to clear a debt. She had been married to a ruthless Mafia Boss. She was a widow. In Nico's dark, violent world, women who were treated as currency were never spared.
But as the physical reality of her tight, unbroken resistance registered in his mind, the truth hit him like a freight train.
Don Gio never touched her. No one has ever touched her.
"Nico?" Mara whispered.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
How could she possibly explain that this was the very last piece of herself she had left to give? Her face burned with a sudden, terrifying vulnerability, panicked that his hesitation would break the spell and leave her cold and empty all over again.
