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I groaned as I came, filling her with my seed, the connection between us deeper than it ever had been. She trusted me with her body, after so many years of feeling as though she couldn’t trust anyone with it, of feeling as though she had no choice but to do what was demanded of her. And knowing that, after all of that, she had chosen me—it was the hottest fucking thing in the world.
We breathed hard against each other’s mouths, our breath mingling in the air between us for a moment, as we came down from the high we had just hit. Slowly, reluctantly, she eased herself off of me, grinning against my mouth.
"Well, if that’s anything to go by," she murmured, brushing her fingers through my hair. "I think I’m going to like this relationship thing."
"Me too," I agreed, smiling as I sank my mouth against hers once more.
Chapter Nineteen – Selina
As I lay in bed next to Paulo, I watched his chest rising and falling and reached over to smooth my hand over his strong body.
I was still kind of amazed I got to wake up next to this man, and it had been nearly a week since I had made it back to the mansion—nearly a week since I had killed Stefano, and I had finally brought to an end the reign of terror he’d held over my life and the lives of the other women he had abused and exploited.
Alex and his men had cleared up the scene, Paulo had assured me, dumping the body in the middle of nowhere where nobody would ever find it—not that I thought anyone would have come looking for Stefano, anyway. No, I imagined that most of the people who’d had the misfortune of knowing him would be glad that he was gone, not looking to hunt him down again, unless he owed them money or something.
And the thought of him rotting away in the middle of nowhere was some kind of relief to me, a revenge after everything he had done to me and those other girls. I knew it was more symbolic than anything else, but it felt like revenge for all the men who had hurt me over the years, all the guys who had used me because Stefano had made me available to them.
I still couldn’t believe I had actually pulled the trigger and ended him like that. I had woken up every night since with the sound of that gunshot ringing in my ears—a reminder of what I had done, of what I was capable of. Paulo was always there to soothe me back to sleep, promising me that it would get better with time. I wasn’t sure if I believed him, but I didn’t feel the guilt I had thought I would over taking his life. He had tried to take mine from me through addiction, through crushing my spirit and selling my body, and I knew he would have done it to other women given the chance. Better to wipe scum like him off the face of the earth than let them live.
And now he was gone, I supposed I had to figure out just what I was going to do next with my life. I wasn’t entirely sure what it looked like, this new existence of mine—wasn't sure how to navigate my way through it. I knew I wanted Paulo to be a part of it, of course, because that just made sense; I’d been staying with him in the mansion this last week, hiding out from the rest of the world and doing everything I could to ignore the pressing questions hanging over my head.
Like what I was going to do next. I knew I wanted to stay sober; that part, I was sure of. Paulo had offered to start taking me to meetings where other addicts like me could come together and discuss our experiences and, while I was kind of nervous about the thought of it, there was another part of me that felt relieved knowing there were more people like me out there. For so long, I had been crushed by the shame of everything that had happened, of the dark spiral I had allowed myself to get pulled down, and the only way to rid myself of that feeling was to expose it all and stop keeping it a secret.
But … but what about the rest of my life? What was I going to do for a career now that all of this was over? I couldn’t rely on Paulo’s support for the rest of my life, and I didn’t want to, either. I never wanted to rely on a man again, not as long as I lived, even if Paulo had shown himself in a million ways to be better than the men I’d known before. No, I wanted to make my own living, my own life, and I wasn’t going to settle for anything less.
Maybe I could go to college? Or just pick up a job at a corner store; anything, really, to bring in my own income. Something to keep me busy and fill my days. I knew, if I was going to resist the lure of falling back into the life I’d been in before, I needed to keep myself busy …
But there was a huge question hanging over my head, and that, of course, was my family. I still hadn’t reached out to them once, not since I had gotten out of Stefano’s grasp, and I knew that was the last step I had to take.
Beside me, Paulo stirred; it was early in the morning, the sun had barely risen yet, but he seemed to sense that there was something up with me. Blearily, he reached down to stroke my hair, pulling me against his chest.
"Hey," he murmured.
"Hey," I replied, closing my eyes and listening to the slow thud of his heartbeat. I always found it grounding, being this close to him—it pulled me out of my thoughts for a while.
"You thinking about something?" he asked me, and I paused before I answered. I knew it was better for me to be honest with him than it was to try and hold back the reality of what was going on inside my head.
"Thinking about my family," I admitted to him finally.
"Again?" he asked softly. I nodded.
"If you’re thinking about them this much," he remarked, sliding down next to me so he could face me. "Maybe it’s a sign that you should reach out them."
"I don’t know what I’d say," I replied, the weight of it pressing down on top of me for a moment. "And … And besides, I got into all of this so I could provide money for them. Even when I was at my worst, I was still sending some back for them, even though they didn’t know it was me. What happens now? What if they were relying on it?"
"It doesn’t matter how much you were making," he pointed out gently. "It wasn’t worth going through everything you did to make it."
"I know," I agreed. "But I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if … if stopping it meant that they were struggling. Thinking about them getting by, it’s the only thing that kept me going when it was really bad. And I’m scared that …"
I trailed off, not even sure how to put it into words.
"Scared that you making the right choice for yourself might cost them?" he finished up for me. I nodded. He always seemed to be able to put it into words better than I ever could, reading my mind like he lived there.
"Yeah," I sighed. "I’m just scared. I don’t even know how to contact them again, but I … I want to see them. And tell them how sorry I am."
"You’ve got nothing to be sorry for," he reminded me, gently but firmly. He had been trying to get me to stop blaming myself for everything that had happened, even though I was still struggling to believe I was worthy of the forgiveness he offered me. I just … It was so much for me to wrap my head around, knowing that I had allowed it to happen.
"Right," I muttered, shaking my head. "I just don’t know where to start with them. I don’t know if I even can start again."
