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“Crazy, controlled life,” I sigh.
How did I end up being born a Santoro? Why couldn’t I have been born into a nice middle-class family or hell, even a poor family? Any family where my life wasn’t dictated by arrogant men. I loved my father but he was as controlling as my brother. He just did it in a different way. He threw money at me to get me to comply.
God rest his soul,I think, letting out a sigh.
“You’re a Santoro whether you like it or not, Felicity Giana Santoro.” I throw myself back against the bed. “A damn Santoro.”
Knock. Knock.
My heart skips a beat as the knocking at the door echoes in my mind. I specifically told the front desk that I didn’t want to be disturbed, not even by housekeeping. There’s no reason for someone to be at the door.
Slowly, I get up and make my way over to the door. I’m careful to not make a sound. When I reach the door, I take a slow, deep breath to steady my nerves and then I glance through the peephole. My stomach knots and a tear slides down my cheek.
“Open the door, Felicity. I know you’re there,” Basque growls, looking directly into the peephole.
With trembling fingers, I unlock and open the door. He quickly steps inside, and then closes and locks the door. He drops his bag to the floor and braces his hands on the wall with his back to me. I watch as his shoulders raise and lower with each deep breath he takes.
“I’m really sor–” I whisper.
“No. You don’t get to be sorry, Felicity,” he growls, slamming his fist into the wall. “Do you have any idea what you’ve caused by running off? Not to mention, you didn’t even tell me. Me! Of all fucking people, you could have at least told me.”
It breaks my heart, knowing he’s upset with me. I had planned to tell him where I was. I was just trying to figure out how. Or maybe deep down I was just going to disappear from every part of my past; him included. If I had a choice, I’d want him with me but I could never ask him to leave my brother or the lifestyle.
“Basque, I planned to cont–”
“Enough, Felicity,” he says harshly, walking past me and across the room. “I’m guessing this is courtesy of Rosaline?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“You two really are something,” he shakes his head. “Well, at least, she got you a nice room. Classy. Perfect for you.”
His words cut through me like a knife. It takes everything in me to not drop to my knees and cry like a baby. Basque is so angry with me. There’s venom coating every word he speaks.
I don’t say anything. I walk over to the bed and sit down. My eyes are focused everywhere but on Basque. He needs time to calm down and anything I say will just make things worse.
Several minutes go by with silence and awkwardness filling the room. This is all my fault and I know it. I should have just sucked it up and stayed under lock and key. I’d put up with it for nearly three decades so what’s a few more, right?
“Are you okay?” Basque asks softly. I don’t trust myself to speak and not cry so I nod in response.
He walks over to me, pulls me up, and into his arms. I melt against him. Tears stream down my face as I cling to him.
“Baby, I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad.”
“I’m sorr… I’m sorry,” I sob.
“Shh. You have nothing to be sorry about. I know Nico can be difficult to deal with,” he says, holding me. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
“I could never hate you, Felicity.” He looks down at me and smiles. “How can I hate the woman who has me wrapped around her little finger?” he grins, making me giggle.
He sits on the bed and then pulls me onto his lap. Nervously, I look him in the eyes.
“This is all a mess, huh?” I ask softly
“Nico has been unbearable. More than usual,” he groans. “Mia bought you some time, but he’s ordered me to bring you back home.”
And there it was– the order. Everything in my family was about orders, directives, and people obeying. Nico couldn’t just ask me nicely to come home. No, of course not. Instead, he decided to be a pompous ass and order Basque, his Underboss, to bring me home.
