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“He was almost fifty,” Rosa says. “I know, I know. It’s too much.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“You weren’t?”
“I don’t think age has to be the deciding factor, not if there’s something real. Not if there’s something long-term and both people are dedicated.”
I wonder if this is a mistake, this not-so-subtle signaling to Leo.
“Okay, fair enough, and yeah, I agree.”
“So, what was the issue?”
“It was great at the start. He was Russian, and I knew Dad would be suspicious. He’d think it was the Bratva trying to get close to me, so I kept it a secret. Matt knew a lot about Russian poetry and literature. We could talk for hours about books. He wasn’t particularly attractive, but it’s funny how I never cared about that. Maybe that’s because it was quite platonic, even if we were dating.”
“How so?” I ask, knowing she needs to unload.
I’m relieved to return to this dynamic where she shares with me. It’s our comfort zone.
“We held hands. We kissed. He wanted to take things further, but you know me.”
That’s another reason we’ve always got on so well. When she was fourteen, Rosa decided she wanted to wait until marriage to lose her virginity. I’ve never explicitly taken that stance, but I’ve never felt a keen need to get the first time over with. I feel an eager need now, but not to get it done. To do it once and then again and again and again…
“He got aggressive, and then he tried to kidnap me.” She shudders. “Luckily, I was able to get out of the car, but I heard him on the phone first, talking to some other Russians. They were referring to me asthe Italian’s daughter. I knew that because he’d been teaching me some Russian.”
“So you think hewasBratva?”
“Why else would he talk about me like that?” she says, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Oh, Rosa, I’m so sorry.”
“He started sending me texts, calling me all day and night. So Dad installed the phone blocker. He said he didn’t want me to change my number, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.”
“And you’ve kept it on all this time?”
Rosa winces and shakes her head. “A couple of weeks ago, I got furious thinking about it. It was like I went into this other mode,rage mode, and I just lost it. I called the last number he’d sent me a text from. I ranted down the phone at him. I almost blew a vein in my neck from screaming, seriously. He laughed and laughed and said,Knew you’d call.”
“You asked Leo to put the blocker on so you couldn’t call him?”
She nods. “How pathetic is that?”
I lean over from the bed, touching her knee, using the same hand I grabbed her dad’s dick. It’s the same hand I used to stroke him up and down, to coax him closer and closer to an explosion.
“It’s not pathetic. We all lose control sometimes.”
She touches my hand. I almost snatch it away and yell that she doesn’t want skin-on-skin contact with me.
“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you,” she says. “I reallydoneed to work on my essay. It’s due tomorrow, and I’m behind.”
“Good luck,” I tell her.
She smiles, hugs me, and then leaves. I sit, frozen, listening to her footsteps pass across the entertainment room and then upstairs.
“L-Leo?” I whisper, wondering if I’ve lost my mind again. Then Leo slips out of the walk-in closet, his mouth a flat stern line of regret, his fists clenched.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He laughs gruffly. “I’ve never eavesdropped on her before. Not once. I only learned about this Matvei bastard when she told me. I’ve never spied on her. I’ve always done my best to keep her safe, but I’ve been careful not to overstep. Even if she was at college, I told my men to guard her but nothoundher. That’s why she was able to meet him without me knowing.”
