Broken Whispers (Perfectly Imperfect #2)(38)

“And how would that be?” I ask.

“The way you look at my Bianca. Like you would lay your body over a field of burning coals, so she could cross it without burning her feet.”

I appraise the woman silently. Nonna is not as crazy as people think, and much more attentive than I gave her credit for.

“Bianca is different around you, you know,” she continues. “There were only two boyfriends before you. She was never really into dating, even when she was Milene’s age. But boys were always drawn to her like crazy. Allegra hated her for that.”

“She’s her sister, how can she hate her?”

“Never underestimate the power of woman’s vanity. It got worse after Marcus. Oh, Allegra really lost it. She had her eyes on him for years. He was a good catch, the son of the real-estate mogul. But Marcus only had eyes for Bianca. He and Bianca got together, and not even a month later he told Bruno he wanted to marry her.”

Deep anger starts building inside of me just with the barest idea of Bianca being married to someone else.

“Bianca said no and broke up with him.” Giulia shrugs. “I didn’t understand it then, they seemed like a nice couple. But I understand now.”

I turn toward her and cock my head. “What, exactly?”

Nonna sighs and shakes her head. “He still has one eye left, but he’s blind as a bat anyway.”

I see Bianca signing something to Milene. When she kisses her sister and turns to walk in our direction, a man approaches her and starts telling her something. He’s in his late twenties, blond, and based on the way he’s speaking to her, they know each other very well.

“Speak of the devil.” Giulia tsks next to me. “Marcus Kuch himself. He never really got over Bianca rejecting him and . . .”

I don’t hear the rest, because the moment I see that bastard put his hand on Bianca’s upper arm, I spring to my feet and head toward him while a murderous rage starts consuming me.





I manage to convince Milene that she cannot hire Nonna’s gigolo for her next birthday and head back to our table when Marcus appears in front of me. We didn’t break up on the best of terms, but I have nothing personally against him, so I stop for a moment, intending to be polite.

“Is that him? Is that the monster they married you off to?” He gets in my face. “Is it true that he bought you from your father, like the people are saying?”

I am so shocked by his words, I can only stare at him.

“Allegra told me he’s keeping you like some prisoner in his home.”

What the fuck? I’m going to kill her.

“Is it true that he’s beating you, Bianca?”

I can’t listen to this shit anymore, so I turn to leave only to see my husband coming toward us with murder written all over his face.

Mikhail passes me, wraps his hand around Marcus’ neck, and yanks him close enough that they’re nose-to-nose. “How dare you touch my wife?” he sneers through his teeth.

I groan inwardly and duck under Mikhail’s arm to insert myself between them, placing my palms on my husband’s chest and shaking my head. Mikhail looks at me, then at Marcus, and starts squeezing his neck. He’s going to strangle him. I try pulling on Mikhail’s arm, but he tightens his grip while Marcus tries to pry his fingers away and fights for breath. Everyone stares. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I raise onto the tips of my toes and hook my hands around Mikhail’s neck.

“Mikhail,” I say, hoping that hearing my voice will shake him from his anger. “Please.”

He looks down at me and holds my gaze for a few seconds, then looks back at Marcus. “If I see you near my wife again,” he barks and lets go, “you’re dead.”

As expected, Marcus turns on his heel and runs off, coughing. He was always a coward. I am so angry at him, and if I see Allegra, I’m going to strangle her on the spot for spreading those lies.

“What did he want?” Mikhail asks.

I am not sure if I should tell him. He already looks half-mad, and even though he’s speaking to me, he follows Marcus with his gaze, as if he plans on going after him. The crowd around us has gone utterly quiet, and everyone is looking in our direction, whispering to each other. Dear God, could people be thinking the things Marcus said? I place my palm on Mikhail’s cheek to bring his attention to me.

“He just asked about some gossip. Forget it.”

Mikhail throws a look at the people staring at us, some of them even within listening distance, who are visibly eager to overhear our conversation.

He looks down at me. “What gossip?” he signs.

I grin. “You are so sexy when you sign, husband.”

“Don’t change the subject. I know you two were engaged.”

Oh, Nonna Giulia and her big mouth. “We were never engaged. He wanted to marry me. I said no.”

“He touched you.” Mikhail is signing so fast, I am barely able to follow. “If he touches you again, I’m going to end him.”

“He will never make that mistake again.” I touch his chest before continuing. “There is only one man I want to touch me. No need to be jealous.”

I see a corner of his lips lift a little. That’s good.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

We should put a stop to the idiotic rumors that Mikhail is keeping me against my will. Right away. I raise my eyebrows, grab a fistful of his shirt, rise onto my tiptoes, and lift my chin. Mikhail regards me. He is still angry. I see it in his eye, and the way he is gritting his teeth. I sigh and place my palms on either side of his face. My beautiful, dark husband. Can’t he see how crazy I am for him?