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“All I want,” I finally said, “is the right to make my own decisions.” My eyes locked with his, momentarily caught off-guard by the intensity in his green-eyed stare. A part of me wished I could peer into his thoughts and hear what he was thinking. “I want this to stay between us, Zander.”
“I know. I’m not going to tell, as long as you are careful.” There was more than one meaning to that, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him I’d been on birth control since I was thirteen. That was some information he didn’t need to know.
“I will be.”
“Good.” And then a beat passed before he added, “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you? I mean, I don’t have to watch or anything, but I could be nearby, in case something happens and you change your mind—”
“Change my mind about having sex with another man, or change my mind about having sex with you?” I didn’t know why I said that, but my mouth rattled it off before I was able to think about it too much. Oops.
“Whoa, I never said I wanted to have sex with you—I mean, I’m not saying I wouldn’t have sex with you, but being shot in the head and left somewhere in a ditch to rot is not on my list of things to do.” Thankfully, we were in the corner of the small diner, so no one was nearby when he said any of that. “Your father would kill me if I so much as touched you.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But maybe not. I think you overestimate my father. Plus, who’s to say he would have to know?” I fiddled with the straw in the mostly-empty milkshake. “He doesn’t know everything I do.” He might suspect, he might have his ways of figuring things out, but he didn’t know everything.
If he did, he’d know I hated him with every single fiber of my being and often fantasized about killing him.
Yeah, it should be more than obvious by now that we didn’t have the best father-daughter relationship. I mean, what kind of father would sell out his daughter for the night? No good father. No loving parent at all.
“We should stop talking about this,” Zander said, forcing out a smile. “Otherwise I’m going to start thinking of things I probably shouldn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his uneasiness kind of cute.
Ugh, I really shouldn’t let myself feel anything for a man who worked for my father. So what if he was keeping a secret for me? So what if he was only a few years older than I was? It didn’t matter. None of that mattered at all.
We finished up our food, though I took my time with my milkshake. All the while, the world outside grew darker and darker. The sun had set an hour ago, and only now was the sky beginning to be as black as it could, full of sparkling stars. That meant it was about time to get going, to head to the Playground.
I didn’t know if I’d merely watch tonight, or if I’d choose the red mask. Obviously, I had limits. The black mask would be for a night when I was feeling really, really adventurous… or something I never touched. Maybe I’d never get there. Maybe wearing the red mask would be too much for me.
Hell, maybe this whole idea was stupid. People lived their lives dealing with the pain from their pasts; they didn’t just get over it with a snap of their fingers. I couldn’t force myself to do anything, not truly, not deep down, which was ironic, because that’s exactly what I was trying to do by joining the Playground.
We waited a bit more, let the world outside truly become one of night, before paying and leaving the diner. I could not fight the anxiety stirring up in my gut as we got into Zander’s car. I still wore all white, but once we were on the road, I unbuttoned the white coat and took it off. My gloves came off next, along with my shoes, and I stuffed everything into my giant bag. My black leather gloves and my black stilettos came out.
As I worked to put them on, I heard Zander gulp audibly. “You look… you look great, Giselle.” His compliment was whispered so softly, so sincerely, that I had to look over in his direction to see if he meant it.
Though he was driving, he kept tossing looks in my direction, both his hands tight on the wheel, as if he wanted to bring those hands to me instead and fought not to. His mouth hung open slightly, as if seeing me like this was some kind of shock.
“It’s just a dress,” I said, reaching over to put on the heels, and then sliding on my new gloves. “You’ve seen me in a dress before.” Lots of them, actually, although none of them were as short or as tight as this particular one. It ended on my thighs, short enough to show off most of my legs, the muscles on my calves. Without any straps, it hung pretty low on my chest, clinging to my breasts thanks to the sewn-in push-up bra on the dress.
“Nothing like that,” he muttered. “I can see why you hid that one from your father. I don’t think he’d let you leave the house wearing that.”
“He wants me to only wear white,” I spoke with a frown, flexing my hands in the new gloves. They ended at my wrists, so it wasn’t like they were super long. Feeling their familiar leather around my fingers did help keep me calm.
“Why? Why does it matter what color you wear?”
“White signifies purity, even if I’m not really pure. Innocence, childishness… take your pick. He wants me to stand out here—he’s always wanted me to stand out. At first, I thought making me wear white all the time was some kind of joke, but it’s not. Everything he makes me do is for a reason.”
“Hmm. Well, for what it’s worth, I think you look killer in black.” Zander tossed me a quick glance, giving me a smile. “Then again, you look good in anything, Giselle.” Another compliment, spoken so effortlessly.
I couldn’t look at him. I had to turn my head and gaze out of the window. The way he kept showering me with compliments, combined with the way he stared at me… it made me wonder if Zander liked me. Again, it wouldn’t matter, even if he did, but I couldn’t help but imagine what life could be like if I wasn’t Miguel Santos’s daughter and Zander wasn’t one of his men, if we were a normal couple, without the bloodied, horrible past.
I didn’t know if I’d like it. Sure, he was cute. Yes, spending time with him was not the worst thing ever, but I think I was so stuck in the past and my innermost fears that I couldn’t picture a normal life anymore. It’s what I’d always wanted, but lately, I’d come to the realization that it was something I would never have.
I was Giselle Santos. I would never be normal. I could not walk away from this life. I had to make of it what I could, and that’s why I was going to the Playground tonight. That’s why I would suck it up, swallow down all of my fears and anxieties, and let a man touch me. I would not let the past dictate who I was anymore, even if Rocco Moretti was here.
Even if his son was someone I’d be forced to spend time with.
Zander pulled us up to the Playground. There was a back entrance in a nearby alley for the ones who wanted a more discreet arrival and exit, but I wasn’t worried. Zander’s car was black; like most vehicles were in this city. It was as nondescript as it could be. And me? With my black dress, I doubted anyone would recognize me at first glance.
Before getting out, I reached for my hair, pulling out the clip that held its length up. Shaking my head, my hair fell in uneven, wild kinks, and I stuffed the clip into my purse before shoving it to the floor of the passenger’s seat.
I wasn’t going to look at Zander again, mostly because I feared what he’d say, if he’d try to compliment me yet again—I didn’t know whether I could take another compliment from the guy—but Zander broke the silence of the car first.
