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He doesn’t acknowledge that apart from a grunt. I shut the door and head to my office. I’m craving something strong again. The last time I had this feeling, I ended up in the basement fucking the life out of Alyssa.
Not happening again.The fact that I’ve fucked her twice already is enough of a black mark on my record.Should have just fucked the green-eyed pharmacist instead.
But even the thought of it—no matter how hard I try forcing myself to linger on the fantasy—doesn’t get my blood pumping. Which is pissing me the hell off.
So I grab myself a drink. Vodka, the best I have available, because it’s one ofthosedays. I take a huge sip that burns my throat as it goes down.
Okay, so maybe Alyssa has caught my interest a little more than most other women, but it’s just an inflated sense of lust. There’s no way it’s anything other than desire. Sure, I can relate to the woman onsomethings, but that doesn’t mean shit. I can throw her back into the wild the moment she doesn’t need to be here anymore. Life will get easier. I’ll fall back into my routines again. I can restart my—what did she call it?—my “revolving door of women.”
But instead of pivoting into those future possibilities, I end up thinking about Alyssa.
And not just her naked body spread out across the bed. Well, notonlythat.
I think about the way her eyes filled up with tears when I told her about how my parents died. I think about the way she looks at Lev. I think about the anguish twisting her face when she opened up to me about her sister.
It’s just sex. Lust. Desire. That’s all.
But even with the vodka to smooth things over, it’s not so easy to believe.
29
ALYSSA
The picnic blanket under the big tree in the south garden has become my regular haunt. I’m out here so often that I even manage to convince Lev to join me from time to time. Today, he’s got another physical therapy appointment, so I’m soaking up the sun all by my lonesome with a book in hand.
To be fair, I’m mostly ignoring the book. Well, notignoringit; it’s just that I’ve read the same sentence about a thousand times in a row. I keep thinking about how it’s been almost forty-eight hours since I last saw or spoke to Uri.
After his abrupt departure during our picnic the other day, he became a ghost. Lev mentioned that Uri said this and Uri did that. That he checked on him in the mornings, the evenings, every night before he fell asleep.
ButInever saw him.
It’s enough to make me roll my eyes. He thinks he’s so damn mysterious. Mr.No One Can Figure Me Out.The big, scary mobster who’s an enigma to all he meets.
Severed fingers, he can handle.
But a vulnerable conversation? No siree.That’swhere he draws a line.
Well, whatever. It’s not like Iwantto see him. It’s not like I miss talking to him. I’ve got Lev and though his conversational skills are limited, I’m grateful to have someone around to spend time with. Even if that requires suffering through hours upon hours of video games.
I pick up my book and attempt another stab at it. Once I discover that the male protagonist is a tall, handsome, broody lord of something or the other, I shut it again. I’ve had enough of tall, handsome, broody men. They might get your heart pumping and certain otherahembody parts throbbing… but they also leave you feeling constantly uneasy, unsure, and insecure.
Who needs that? Not I.
So he can go ahead and avoid me for as long as I’m his prisoner. I don’t give a flying fuck. I’m much better off on my—
“Thisis what you choose to do with your newfound freedom?”
I startle with shock, a little squeak escaping through my teeth. I rock back on my knees and straighten to face him. Uri has his eyebrows arched with amusement.
I clear my throat self-consciously. “First of all, reading a book in a dark basement is very different than reading a book under sunlight. Second of all, I’d hardly call this ‘freedom.’ I’m still trapped here with nowhere to go and nothing to do.”
“If I recall, you have a box full of sex toys to keep you busy.”
I blush and scowl simultaneously. “Not the same thing. I want to goout.”
“Where would you like to go?”
“What does it matter?” I laugh bitterly. “It’s not like you’re offering.”
