Page 70 of The Cost of Silence

The door clicks shut behind him.

And I sit there, staring at the wood grain, pulse loud, heart heavy, and one single undeniable truth echoing in my skull. He might be right.

And that scares the hell out of me.

20.Isabella

I wake alone.The sheets are warm but empty, the space beside me smooth and undisturbed. For a moment, my stomach dips, that quiet, traitorous flick of disappointment I wish I were too cool, too self-possessed, too “fling-appropriate” to feel.

But then I notice the folded note on the pillow. His handwriting: sharp, confident, impatient.

Eat. Rest. Take the meds. I’ll be back later. —N

Rossi is outside. Don’t open the door for anyone.

A tiny exhale escapes me, somewhere between relief and a smile, I try very hard not to admit I’m wearing.

I stretch cautiously, and—oh.

Oh.

My entire body feels… used. Thoroughly. Beautifully. Like someone worshipped me with his hands and mouth and body until every nerve remembered how to sing.

A good ache. A smug ache.

ANicoache.

My cheeks heat as last night flashes behind my eyes, the way he touched me like he owned every inch of my skin, the way his voice dropped to that rough, “good girl” tone that melted everyrational thought I had left. I groan softly, hiding my face in the pillow.

I’m in trouble.

I shower, dress slowly, methodically, trying not to think about how sore I am in places I didn’t even know could get sore in a good way. Everything is tender. Warm. Alive. Even though my ribs ache, my face is starting to look a little better. I could cover the bruises up, but what’s the point? Nico has seen me at my worst and still fucked me like I was the answer to his prayers. Plus, I don’t want to get into a habit of trying to please him. This is a fling and I need to remember that.

When I step into the living room, Rossi is there, as silent and immovable as a boulder.

He’s holding a tray.

“Miss Romano,” he says with a respectful incline of his head. “Breakfast.”

My brows lift. “Did Nico ask you to bring this?”

“Yes.”

There’s no inflection, but somehow I hear the unsaid:Of course he did.

I smile despite myself. “Thank you, Rossi.”

He hesitates just long enough for me to realize this is him being chatty. “If you require anything else… Nico said to inform him immediately.”

“He said that?”

“Yes.” A beat. “Twice.”

Warmth floods my chest. “I’m okay. Really.”

He nods once, satisfied, and disappears like smoke down the hall.

I settle into a quiet rhythm after that, eating, reading, pretending to work. Staring at my laptop screen and accomplishing absolutely nothing because every time I blink, Ifeel his hands gripping my hips, his breath at my ear, the way he saidminelike a vow he didn’t mean to say out loud.