Then I noticed something separated from the main house. My pulse stuttered. Glass. Almost entirely glass, including the roof. A smaller structure sat overlooking the ocean. Modern. Minimalist. Beautiful. Transparent.
My stomach dropped. The motorcycle slowed. Then stopped. The engine died. Silence rushed in. The sudden absence of noise felt deafening. The ocean crashed somewhere below the cliffs. Waves. Wind. Seagulls. Everything felt strangely peaceful.Which somehow made it worse. Because peaceful things weren't supposed to happen after murders.
I started clawing at the leather strap.
Santino caught my wrist. "Don't."
"Fuck you."
His grip tightened slightly. "Welcome home, darling."
The buckle released. I jumped off the motorcycle before he could stop me. Or attempted to. My heel caught in my dress. The lace tangled around my ankles. I pitched forward. A strong arm wrapped around my waist. Again. Always.
Always his hands. Always his arms. Always him. I wanted five consecutive minutes without this man touching me. Apparently that was too much to ask.
I stared at him. "Do you enjoy being irritating?"
"Very much." He grinned.
"I noticed."
A grin flickered briefly across his face. God. I wanted to throw him into the ocean. Santino reached for me. I stepped backward. "Aurora."
"No,” I hissed. "I swear to God if you pick me up again…"
He picked me up. I screamed. A full-bodied, furious scream. My fists started flying. His shoulder. His chest. His arm. His stomach. Anything I could reach.
Nothing happened. Not a reaction. Not a flinch. Not even a complaint. The man carried me toward the glass house like I weighed ten pounds.
"PUT ME DOWN,” I screamed. "I'M SERIOUS."
"Shut up or I’ll kiss you again,” he muttered against my ear.
"I WILL BITE YOU!” I yelled. "I mean it this time."
His mouth curved. "I appreciate commitment."
I genuinely considered murder. The guest house door slid open automatically. The soft hiss echoed through the eveningair. My stomach twisted. Everything already waiting. Everything already prepared. Everything already arranged. For me.
Santino carried me inside. The second my feet touched the floor, I swung. Hard. My palm cracked across his face. The sound echoed through the entire house. Glass amplified everything. Silence followed.
My chest heaved. My hand stung. I waited. For anger. For retaliation. For consequences. Instead Santino slowly turned his head back toward me. A red mark spread across his cheek. His jaw flexed once.
“Alright.” Then he nodded. Like we'd completed a scheduled activity. "Feel better?"
My eye twitched. "No."
"Hit harder next time."
I made a sound that wasn't remotely human. Then shoved him. Hard. Nothing. I shoved him again. Nothing. By the fifth push my vision had blurred. By the sixth tears had started running down my face. By the seventh I wasn't trying to move him anymore. I was just angry. Heartbroken. Terrified.
"You killed him." The words cracked. Silence. "You killed Sergio."
For the first time all evening, Santino looked away. Only briefly. Only for a second. But it happened. "You don't get to cry over him."
His gaze snapped back. Dangerous. Immediate. "What?"
"You don't."
