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The memory of his lips is still fresh in my mind. The way he touched my hair and undid the bun so that he could run his fingers through is playing on repeat in my head as I stare down at his neat handwriting on the check. His phone number taunts me like his tongue had as he teased it into my mouth.
He’s not even here and he’s driving me crazy. How am I supposed to function with these memories haunting me?
Then again, I guess I don’t have to function. The check is written out for enough money that I could ease up on my job search for a few days. Honestly, I could ease up for a while—maybe even pay an apartment deposit and buy some decent food. Five thousand dollars? I’m almost afraid to deposit it. It feels like it couldn’t possibly be a real check.
But then I think about how nice his car was, how well his suit fit him. How expensive his cologne smelled. I don’t know much about money, but I know how to tell when a person has a lot of it versus when they don’t. Nothing about him seemed like he was hard up for cash.
Other things about him were plenty hard, though …
My face heats instantly at the memory of his big, muscular body against mine. I’d never felt so small yet so protected before. I’ve felt small plenty of times—my stepfather made it clear that I was tiny and worthless to him plenty—but feeling safe like that?
Hearing him ask if I’d let him take care of me?
It feels more like a dream than reality, even though I know it was real. I wouldn’t be holding this check in my hands if it wasn’t.
I also wouldn’t be thinking about calling him just to hear his voice again if he hadn’t asked me.
I bury my face in the pillow and let out a frustrated groan.
Why do I feel like calling him would just make me look clingy or desperate? He asked me to call him when I got home, and while this dingy motel room isn’t home, it’s what I’ve got for now. I don’t know why I’m so worried about what he’ll think of me.
I’ve never felt like this before. For anyone.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and start dialing the number, but my thumb hovers over the call button as I hesitate. Doubt washes over me. Am I really going to do this?
What if this man—Santino Bianchi, his check says—is playing mind games with me?
It wouldn’t be the first time. If life’s taught me anything, it’s that people aren’t trustworthy and don’t care about others. I could be falling into a trap but … The way he looked at me felt different. It was intense, and maybe even a little frightening, but it wasn’t malicious. He didn’t want to hurt me, and he could have, if he wanted to.
He even put himself between me and that random guy walking down the street who knew him. That doesn’t seem like a man who’d hurt me just to hurt me. In a single moment, he showed more care for me than my parents have ever managed to do.
He was ready to protect me even though we’d just met.
With that thought at the front of my mind, I press call. It’s not like I have anything to lose. The worst that’ll happen is that I’ll get sent to voicemail. It’s really late, so I wouldn’t be surprised.
To my surprise, the line only rings twice before a familiar voice answers.
“Hello?” Santino purrs. The deepness of his greeting makes goosebumps rise on my arms. It’s almost like he’s right here with me.
That’s when I realize I wish he actually was.
“Renee? Is that you?” It almost sounds like he’s smirking at me again like he did earlier. Not meanly, but teasingly.
“Hi,” I breathe. “Yeah, it’s me.” I shift on the bed uncomfortably, feeling hot and restless as he chuckles on the other side of the line.
“I’d almost given up on you calling.”
I bite my lip. “I’m sorry I’m calling you so late.”
“No worries, sweetheart. Did you get home safe?”
“I did,” I tell him honestly. Being able to take the bus, and knowing that I have more funds at my disposal, made my life a lot easier tonight. What I don’t tell him is that hearing him call me “sweetheart” makes my heartbeat faster.
“Good, I’m glad. Are you going to deposit that check I gave you?”
Making small talk like this feels strangely intimate when it has no right to feel like that.
“I will. I’ve got the app on my phone, so I can deposit it easily.”
