Page 57 of No Darker Temptation

Regina tilts her head at me. “You always knew who I was. I never kept it a secret that my grandfather was with Le Milieu.”

“Yes but you did hide the fact that Sandro was your brother.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. A migraine starts to build in my skull. “I think if we had been meant to be, we would’ve been. You didn’t love me enough to tell me the truth when you had the chance and I didn’t love you enough to forgive you when you finally did.” I shrug, unsure of what else to say. “Así es la vida, Regina. We made decisions and now we have to stand by them. I stand by mine.”

Deciding this conversation is over, I turn to leave. Her voice finds me halfway the door.

“Sandro’s going to intercept all of the shipments from Trieste to Marseilles so find another route. Algeria is safest, I made sure of it,” she says. “You wanted a reason to trust me. Just know if you do, I’ll be requiring a favor in return.”

A TEST IN RESTRAINT

Alejandro

Idon’t go home right away.

Something tells me Dahlia needs space from me and I’m happy to give it to her.

By the time I get back to the lounge the sun is rising again, the last twenty-four hours having passed in a blur. I head up to the apartment and shower and change into a fresh suit before burying myself in a stack of paperwork ten inches tall.

The day passes as quickly as it arrived and when closing time rolls around I decide it’s time to head home. Regina’s voice is still ringing in the back of my head when I walk through the front doors.

For once in your life, put your pride aside and accept that you need me.

If what she’s saying is true, and unfortunately, I suspect it might be, then I need to sit down with Lettie and Diego and re-route all our Italian shipments for the next six months. Lettie is still in Trieste with Abuelo and probably won’t be back until next month for Dahlia’s birthday.

I hover in the hall outside our bedroom door. The light is on but it’s quiet inside meaning she either fell asleep with the lamp on again or she’s waiting for me. Dahlia keeps to her sleep schedule like a fish to water but as I stand there, hand hovering over the doorknob, anxiety whips through me. Tension coils tight around my lungs, piercing into my flesh like barbed wire. A full minute passes before I’ve mustered up the courage to step inside.

To my surprise, Dahlia is still awake. Sitting at her vanity, yanking a comb through her hair, until a few strands and a fierce knot is yanked free. When she sees me she flinches; almost spins around on the bench but stops herself from doing so.

“Hi.”

I shut the door behind me. “Hey.”

Neither of us speaks after that. The comb continues its brutal assault on her hair and I disappear into the bathroom where I spend a half hour in the shower, scrubbing my skin raw but feeling no cleaner for it. By the time I come out she’s sitting on my side of the bed in a baby blue silk robe, knees hugged against her chest, hair falling in wild, frizzy waves done her back. She must’ve given up on all the brushing.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to come back tonight,” she whispers.

Uncertain of myself, I hesitate at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. I can leave⁠—”

“No! No,” she says frantically, about to reach out to me but something stops her from doing so. “I don’t want you to leave.”

I take a steadying breath but the tightness in my chest is still there. I wish I could name what this is; the feeling of falling but not being able to see where you’re going, the sensation of being lost in the dark and knowing there’s something there that can hurt you and unable to see. Unexpectedly and with astounding clarity, I realize what it is.

Fear.

A crippling, all-consuming fear has me in its grip and won’t let go.

I’ve always known who and what I am, accepting it without complaint or dispute. But I’ll never forget the way she looked at me after she fled the cellar. How she shrunk away from my touch, terror leaking into the mild tenor of her voice as she spoke. Many people fear me and it’s part of why I’m able to do my job so well. Fear is a necessary evil in most aspects of my life but the moment that fear touched Dahlia, the single most precious thing in my life, I came undone at the seams.

Until then, I myself had never experienced true fear. Because deep down, I knew I’d frightened her so thoroughly that if she hadn’t already gone home to pack her bags and flee, the next time she would.

“I think we should⁠—”

“You scared me.”

Her arms tighten around herself. Her voice is so fragile as she speaks I think every word from her lips will shatter the moment they take form. “I hadn’t expected it. I was caught off guard.”

“I’m sorry⁠—”

“Don’t be sorry. I shouldn’t have been snooping downstairs, I…” She hesitates before continuing. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”