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What happens if he succeeds? What happens after? Would he really keep his promise and let me go? Send me away?
And what? Steal my baby from me?
Lucas drives off when I open the café door.
I find Cash at a table. He’s looking back at me. I shake my head, not entering. I let the door close. Hugging my arms around myself, I turn around and begin the long walk to the library, my one safe haven even if it is for just a little while. I have no doubt Damian’s double-crossing soldier is following.23DamianWhen I’m back in the penthouse, I find Cristina in the master bathroom sitting in the tub, head back and eyes closed. I know why she doesn’t open them when I find the bottle of vodka on the floor beside the arm hanging out of the bath.
Steam rises from the circular tub. I walk over, sit on the edge. Putting one finger in, I test the temperature.
She blinks her eyes open, appearing startled but then resigned as she reaches for the bottle, drinking straight from it.
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
She glugs another generous swallow.
I take the bottle from her. I’d just opened recently and it’s about half gone.
“That’s mine,” she says.
“You’ve had enough.”
“No, I haven’t. But I’m getting there.” She closes her eyes and leans her head back again.
“Is this about last night?” I ask her, standing to take off my jacket. Rolling up my shirt sleeve, I reach in to pull out the plug.
“Hey. I’m taking a bath.” She straightens, getting on her knees to search for the plug. She slips, splashing water onto the bathroom floor. I catch her before she smashes her face against the edge of the tub. She pulls away from me and attempts to plug the drain again.
“You’re drunk. Come on. Out.”
I grab a towel and unfold it. I notice the two months’ worth of birth control containers lying open on the counter.
“What are you doing?” I ask her.
She looks at them then at me. “What are you doing?” she slurs.
All right. “Come on. Out, Cristina.”
“No. Go away.”
“Well, if you’re not going to come out, then I’ll come in.”
“I don’t want you.”
“No, that’s clear.” I slip off my shoes and clothes. I guess she doesn’t believe I’ll do it until I’m in the tub, sliding behind her, holding onto her so she’ll stay put.
“I don’t want you here, Damian. I mean it.”
“Why? This is nice.”
“You’re a jerk, that’s why. Let me go.”
“Listen—”
“I don’t want to listen. Let go. You’re hurting me.”
I’m holding her upper arm. My grip isn’t hard, but there’s a bruise forming on the skin under my fingers. I lean closer, brushing my thumb over the slightly raised, reddened skin.
Shit. Did I do that?
“Listen,” I say, moving my hand off the sensitive spot.
“I really don’t want to hear any more of what you have to say.”
“You haven’t heard anything yet, Cristina.”
She turns huge violet eyes to me. What I see inside isn’t what I expect. Anger, I get. Being pissed at me, wanting to hurl things at me, I get. I was a dick last night. But what I see is hurt.
“Well, I don’t want to hear at all.”
“Look, I shouldn’t have done what I did last night. Shouldn’t have treated you like that. I’m sorry, okay?”
She sniffles, wiping the back of her hand across her face. “Not okay.”
“Hey,” I say, pulling her in to me.
I’m not sure if she yields to me, if it’s that she’s drunk, or just that the tub is slippery, but she lies back against my chest so I can wrap my arms around her. She’s so light. So small. And a part of me is scared that my brother’s right. That I’m going to break her.
“I was wrong. I’d had a bad day, I took it out on you, and I’m sorry. And just to be clear, I did not bring you here so I could have someone to fuck. That’s not what you are to me, okay?”
She turns her head to rest her cheek against my chest like maybe she’s too tired to hold it up. She brings her eyes to mine and I see the tears inside them.
“You never told me what you want,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
“You said you’d let me go after I give you what you want. But you never told me what it is you want.”
“That’s gotten…complicated.”
“What does that mean?”
I slide my hand down over her belly between her legs.
She makes a sound, then furrows her brows and tries to push my hand away.
“Shh. Look at me.”
“Tell me. Just tell me.”
“I meant one thing I said last night.”
“What’s that?”
“I like having you around.”
Confusion creases her forehead.
I cup the back of her head, and when I rub her clit between my fingers, her mouth falls open.
