Page 36 of Don’t Say Mafia

The woman on top noticed me first. She froze mid-roll, and her eyes widened while her mouth formed a perfect little O of shock as she looked from me to the man still buried inside her.

For one long, endless second, no one moved.

Then she scrambled upright, yanking the sheet over her breasts like it could erase the sight of her riding a stranger on my bed. The man sat up fast, his dick bobbing and his face flushed from exertion and surprise.

“Oh my gosh,” one of them said, fumbling for clothes. “We⁠—”

“Out,” I said numbly. “Get out. Now.”

They didn’t argue. They grabbed whatever they could—clothes, phones, dignity—and fled. The front door slammed shut, and I stood there, staring at how my bed was now a mess of twisted sheets, wet spots, and the lingering scent of people who weren’t me. So much for a nap before my shift.

Something inside me went utterly still. There wasn’t rage or heartbreak; there was just . . . nothing. A cold, perfect quiet, like the world had finally stopped screaming and my heartbeat had ceased to exist.

“Eden—” Ryan said desperately.

I turned on him, the room seeming to spin. “You let people into our bed.”

He went pale. “I didn’t—I didn’t think⁠—”

“That’s the problem,” I said. “You don’t think.”

Ryan’s knees hit the floor hard, his body giving out before his pride did. He grabbed at my legs. “Please,” he said in a breaking, panicked voice. “I’ll change. I swear. I’ll stop. I’ll do better. Just don’t give up on me.”

I looked down at him, at the boy who’d once walked me to the bus stop, who’d promised me the world with such certainty I’d believed it without question.

“I’ve been lied to my whole life,” I said softly, “by everyone who ever told me they’d take care of me.”

He shook his head desperately. “I’m not like them.”

“I believed that,” I whispered. “Out of all of it, I believed you’d never be part of that.”

The silence between us felt fragile, stretched thin and trembling as I pulled my legs free and stepped back, pressing a hand to my chest in an attempt to steady what was breaking there. “This is it,” I said. “This is your last chance.”

His head snapped up. “I’ll do it. Whatever you want. I swear.”

“You don’t swear,” I said. “You show me.” I turned away before I could change my mind, before hope could get its stupid hooks in too deep again. “I have work,” I added quietly. “We’ll talk after. And Ryan?”

He froze.

“If this happens again,” I said, my voice steady now, “there won’t be another conversation.”

I closed the bedroom door and leaned against it for just a second, breathing through the ache, knowing even as I gave him one more chance that something fundamental had already cracked.

No matter what he did, we’d never be whole again.

I was stacking glasses behind the bar, lining them up by muscle memory more than thought, when I suddenly became aware of someone standing very close behind me. I turned quickly, my heart giving an embarrassing jolt as I swiveled around and saw my blond stranger.

Not yours, Eden. What the fuck are you talking about?

His suit jacket was gone, his shirtsleeves pushed up, and his tie was loosened like the night had taken a toll on him. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes and a weariness in the set of his shoulders . . . but it didn’t dull him. He was still unfairly, devastatingly beautiful.

Relief bloomed in my chest before I could crush it.

Relief.

Which was insane and completely inappropriate.

I straightened quickly, my fingers tightening around the glass in my hand, as if that would anchor me back to sanity.