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But either way, I am not sure he will forgive me for taking my own life.
Of all my sins, being born from that night is one I can never justify or make right.
The loud knock on the door startles me.
A text from Alessandro lights up my phone screen.
Open up
I freeze, the comfort of my thoughts vanishing in an instant. After my brief conversation with Sophie, incriminating evidence is strewn haphazardly on my bed, and my heart races as I scramble to gather it.
He knocks again, impatient.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Panic grips me, bile forming in my throat. “I am coming, was in the shower,” I stammer, as I push everything under my bed.
I am panicked and my hands are trembling as the box slips from my grasp, clanging loudly to the floor. “Damn it!” I yell, my voice filled with frustration.
“Everything all right in there?” Alessandro calls out from the other side of the door.
“Yes, just a minute,” I reply, but I can feel his gaze boring into the door. I hastily pick up all the items and toss them back into the box. Sweat beads on my forehead as I push the box under my bed, heaving heavily. I’m a nervous wreck, but I need to keep up appearances.
I walk to the door, still in a frenzy. That’s when it hits me—I’ve just told him I was in the shower. My mind races as I quickly peel off my clothes and tie a towel around my armpits. “Can we reschedule, Alessandro?” I shout, exasperation creeping into my voice. “Something came up.”
“Just open up, Rachel,” he retorts, his voice unwavering. “I don’t care if your hair is wet and messy.”
Wet hair! I groan inwardly as I dash to the sink, cupping my hands under the running water and hastily running them through my hair. It’s a desperate attempt to make it look like I’ve been in the shower. I sprinkle some water over my body for good measure.
This is one of the other things I hate about this arrangement I have with Alessandro; it catches me off guard, I’m unprepared. I like order. I like having a plan in place, not all this floundering around.
I need to put an end to this.
After tonight, I am telling him that I am not interested in seeing him anymore.
As I fumble and stub my toe on the bedroom furniture, I approach the door. Alessandro’s patience is running thin, and I can’t keep him waiting any longer. My heart races, my breath is shallow, and I unlock the door. When it swings open, there he stands, Alessandro, impeccably dressed as always, with his sharp jawline and those piercing brown eyes that always seem to see right through me.
“Sorry about that,” I mutter, avoiding his gaze. “I was just finishing up.”
He steps inside without a word, his presence filling the room. He has two huge paper bags in hand.
“I brought dinner,” he says as he closes the door behind him.
“I am not hungry.”
I need to put a stop to this.
His eyes darken as he steps closer to me then with one pull drags the towel off of me, “Well, I am.”
Fuck me.
As he lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, I make a mental note that I will definitely end it tomorrow.
He drops me onto the bed, then climbs on top of me as he kisses and bites my lips.
“Alessandro.”
He lifts his face to stare at me “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”
