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“That’s what I thought.” She glances at the bedroom door again. Sadness darkens her expression. “Go. Things might get bad. You need to take advantage of tonight. We’re never guaranteed anything beyond right now.”
Don’t I fucking know it. Which is why I open my mouth and sink myself into even murkier waters. “Ariel, I want to ask you something that might seem like it’s a betrayal of your friendship to Carra.”
Instantly mad, she incinerates me with a look. “Then don’t ask it. Because you could say you’re going to cut my fingers off, one at a time, with rusty pruning shears and I’d never answer.”
Ariel gathers up an armful of pillows and blankets and takes off toward the couch. This conversation is done, according to her.
She’s loyalty personified. From the square of her shoulders, I don’t doubt she’d stick out her hand and offer those digits. But it doesn’t ease the war churning through me.
“This is important and I’m not sure she feels safe answering me about this.”
After spreading a blanket out and fluffing a pillow, the self-confident chef turns. The angle of her chin is uncompromising.
“Then make her feel safe.”
I walk to the bar, pour a glass of club soda, and finally force myself to the bedroom door. Fuck. Give me strength. Give me the words that will soothe the woman I’ve hurt.
CHAPTERTWENTY
As I lie, looking at the ceiling and thinking about the thousand ways my life can implode at any single second, the door opens.
Silently, Kieran closes the door. Standing across the room in the faded darkness, he undresses. Light from the night sky seeps under the door and through the sheer blinds. Backlighting his muscular shoulders and the narrow cut of his hips.
Without a word, he comes to lie with me.
This is not my Kieran. Not that he was ever mine, but still. He looks eerily calm, almost haunted.
All my defenses are still down, shattered, and nothing I do is bringing them up again. Even the simple fact that he puts his arms around me and scoops me to him makes me bleed on the inside.
Gently, he strokes down my hair, slides his hand down my arm, and takes my hand in his. My heart is ready for the taking all over again.
I can’t let that happen. Giving someone my heart is giving someone the power to destroy me. To break me. To own me.
And I have someone depending on me. People I love. My son.
This time with Eva and Ariel and even the time at the safe house have given me a glimmer of what my life could be like if I wasn’t me. If I had the slightest chance to be free. To be myself.
But that will never happen. Not as long as I’m a part of the mafia world. Where I’ll never be more than a possession.
My life was over the moment I was born into my family, and I never stood a chance.
Tears are now streaming down my face and pooling on his arm.
His hand tightens around mine. His breath fans me as his whisper brushes across my ear. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I did, sweetheart. I promise you that what happened last night will never happen again. Can you ever forgive me?”
God. How can he do this? How can this man be this perfect and this wrong for me at the same time? He hurts me deep; then he heals me from within.
Why does he care? Can it be that he truly loves me? I can’t take the chance to believe. To trust. To care.
I wish my life was different. I wish I was someone else. I wish he had chosen a different life too. Why am I not free to choose and live a happy life? Why is this my life?
Because I know, if things were different, if there were no mob involved, he’d be my choice, no questions asked.
Velvet soft, he brushes his lips against my cheek. “Please talk to me.”
I shake my head. Wanting to keep my hurt as my own. Bearing this life I’ve been handed. But it pulls me down and down until the end of the tunnel is just as dark as everywhere else.
Sorrow breaks me until I’m drowning. I need help. So, I open my mouth to try to breathe, and I let go of some of my secrets.
