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“She earns it,” Santo says mildly, but he won’t meet my eye. He’s teasing, but neither of us is laughing.
I chew on my bottom lip, staring at the rumpled bed sheets. Haven’t I earned it yet? Doesn’t he trust me? Maybe he doesn’t want me that badly after all.
“I have something for you.” The gruff words interrupt my downward spiral, and Santo’s back flexes as he leans over the side of the bed, rummaging in the pile of his clothes. When he comes back up, he hands me a cream envelope and I sit up too.
A Christmas gift? For me?
The fancy paper scrapes as I peel it open. Inside, there’s a glossy black card with the photo of the two of us in matching reindeer sweaters.Season’s Greetings, it says, and my cheeks ache from grinning.
“Half the city got one yesterday. It ruined your father’s career in one blow.”
“They should’ve seen the after shot,” I say, thinking about the pearly beads of release clinging to poor Rudolph.
Santo winds one of my curls around his knuckle. “Indeed. Keep going.”
I flip the card open, fully expecting a first class ticket to Oz, but there’s only a short message from Santo, complete with an angry little kiss mark. I tip the envelope upside down, and a key drops onto the bed sheets.
“I bought your father’s house,” Santo explains, quiet but clear. “Rushed the sale through. It’s in your name, and you can do what you like with it. Sell it or redecorate it. Donate it or level it to the ground. You know we’re always happy to blow buildings up.”
I blink hard, staring at the key like it might not be real. That house was my de facto prison for most of my life, and now it’s mine? I get to decide what becomes of it? My nose is itchy. Think I’m gonna cry.
“No one’s ever…”
“Bought you a mansion?” Santo’s smile is crooked, and I’m still not used to seeing him like this. Happy and warm and open. I kiss the ever-present scrunch between his eyebrows. “Well, be fair, Erin. That is a high bar.”
“Shut up.” I bury my face in his neck and breathe him in. His pre-shower morning smell, when he’s still sea spray but with the faint tang of sex and sweat. I love him like this.
“I have also decided to let your father live. I’ve already ground him into the dirt; I don’tneedto do more to prove my point. You would prefer if he lived, correct?”
My laugh is strangled. “Correct. Thank you. This is all… wow. I thought it was gonna be a plane ticket, I had no idea…”
I trail off when Santo goes rigid.
“You still want that, then?” His words are clipped. Angry. I lean back and though I laugh, my stomach hurts. Why is he glaring at me like that? Why is he moving away? The bed is so cold when there’s distance between us.
“Well, yeah.” Don’t I? I mean, what’s the alternative?
I need to be smart. Santostoleme, he literally stuffed me in the trunk of a car, and maybe he finds me entertaining for the time being, but soon enough he’ll lose interest.
Believe me, I get old real fast. My father and brother could barely stand to have me in the same room, and they were my family. How likely is it that the kingpin will like me any better after a few months?
“You want me,” he says, and it’s an accusation. “You just begged me to fuck you, Erin.”
My cheeks burn and I tug the sheet up, covering myself. Does he really need to throw that back in my face? “Yeah, well. Maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome.”
A muscle twitches below Santo’s eye. “I see. So what if it is?”
That’s his answer? So what?
“So then it’s notreal,” I say, hating the words even as I hear them, because nothing about this feels fake. My hands tremble where they grip the bed sheets. “And even if it is—”
“What?” Santo snaps. “What then?” He’s glaring at me with such disdain, and it’s like my first hours here all over again. Back when we were strangers, before we ever touched. Before we felt this kinship. Can’t believe his tongue was inside me only minutes ago.
It’s freezing in this room. I shiver, yanking the covers higher.
“Well, then you still have all the power! You could get tired of me. You could change your mind and I’d be left with nothing, completely screwed, with no family and no one left in the world, and meanwhile you haveeverything. Come on, Santo. You like strategy. How exactly do I play a hand like that?”
I break off, chest heaving, and he stares at me. Those glacial eyes withdraw from me slowly, until it’s like he’s not even here. So distant.
