9. Adriana #2
I find swimsuits in my room and Matteo's.
There's a one-piece for me mixed in with various bikinis, and I take it.
It's still more exposing than I'd like, but it's better than being on display in a bikini, which I haven't done since I was a teenager.
I haven't even put on a bathing suit since I was eighteen.
Once my innocence was publicly gone, I became possible meat for hungry wolves, and I wasn't about to bait them.
It's clear Lachlan thought of everything, made sure that we have everything we might need to be comfortable in our beautiful prison. I change into the one-piece and help Matteo into his trunks, and then we make our way to the elevator that will take us to the roof.
When the doors open, I'm not prepared for what I see.
The pool at the estate was lovely, but something about this being on a rooftop overlooking the city only adds to the overall beauty of the space.
The huge rectangular pool is crystal clear and sparkling in the sunlight, surrounded by comfortable loungers and potted plants, with a long bar toward the back.
There's a hot tub at one end, and a stone fireplace surrounded by more comfortable chairs at the other.
Beyond the glass barrier that surrounds the space, the Chicago skyline stretches out in every direction, giving the sense of being suspended above the world.
It's private and secluded, designed for escape and relaxation, and for a moment I can almost forget that it's just another part of the cage.
Matteo doesn't hesitate. He doesn't pause to take in the view or appreciate the luxury; he just runs straight for the pool and jumps in with a whoop of pure delight.
I can't help but smile as I watch him surface, laughing, his hair plastered to his head and water streaming down his face.
He looks so happy and free, so much like the child he should have been all along, and I feel my shoulders relax slightly at the sight of it.
I sit on the side of the pool and dangle my legs in, feeling the chilly water against my sun-warmed skin, and I let myself relax into it for a moment.
I don't think I've been relaxed in ten years, and I'm not there yet, but I feel a brief second of it.
A tiny respite. I lean back on my hands and try to pretend that this is normal, that everything is going to be okay, even though I know it's a lie.
Gio will find us. He won't allow himself to be embarrassed like this. Whatever protection Lachlan thinks the marriage gave us, it won't be enough.
But he's not here yet. And I try to make myself enjoy this small pleasure.
Then, about an hour after we come up to the deck, while I'm sunning after reapplying sunscreen to both myself and Matteo, I feel that prickle of awareness at the back of my neck, the sense of being watched that I've learned to recognize over years of living under surveillance.
I open my eyes and turn, and there he is.
Lachlan is standing at the edge of the roof, near the elevator. Even from this distance, I can feel the weight of his gaze on me. He's wearing dark slacks and a button-down, the sleeves rolled up, and his hands in his pockets, and his expression is unreadable.
I can't help but look at the tattoos on his arms that weren't there when we were together last. He had a few, hidden under his clothing, but not covering his arms the way they seem to now.
They seem to me like the physical evidence of the life he's lived without me, the things he's done, the man he's become.
Not the boy I loved. Something else entirely.
My breath catches in my throat, and I force myself to look away and pretend I don't feel Lachlan's eyes on me like a brand.
But my skin is burning now, and I'm aware of every inch of exposed flesh, every curve that the swimsuit doesn't quite hide.
I'm suddenly conscious of the way the water clings to me, the way the sun highlights my body.
The way I must look to him from where he's standing, vulnerable and exposed.
I don't look back, but I can feel him there, watching. It makes something twist in my stomach that I don't want to examine too closely—fear and anger… and something much more complicated that I've been trying to ignore since the moment I saw him again.
After a while, when I finally glance back toward where he was standing, he's gone, but the feeling of being watched doesn't leave.
I wonder if it ever will, if we're here long enough.
If I'll ever be able to relax in this place, or if I'll always be aware of the cameras and the guards, and the man who thinks he owns me now.
We spend an hour in the pool, Matteo playing and splashing while I sun and then get into the water for a little while to try to quiet the anxiety that's building in my chest. When we finally get out, wrapping ourselves in the plush towels that are on a shelf near the loungers, Matteo is tired and happy, his earlier fear temporarily forgotten in the simple joy of swimming.
I'm grateful for that at least, that he can still find moments of happiness despite everything.
"That was fun, Mama," he says as we ride the elevator back down, his small hand warm in mine. "Can we do it again tomorrow?"
"Maybe." I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I'm afraid to promise him anything, as I always have been, when everything is so uncertain.
The rest of the afternoon passes slowly.
We watch an animated movie in the media room that Matteo picks out that's bright and cheerful, completely at odds with the darkness I feel pressing in around us.
I sit beside him in the comfortable reclining seats and try to focus on the screen, but my mind keeps wandering.
It keeps circling back to Lachlan and the way he looked at me this morning, the hurt in his eyes when I compared him to Gio.
The restraint I could see in every line of his body when he wanted to touch me but didn't.
I think about the boy he used to be, who touched me with reverence and desire and gentleness.
I think about the man he's become, scarred and tattooed and dangerous, who rules an empire built on violence and fear.
I try to reconcile the two and find the boy I loved in the man who kidnapped me, but the distance between them feels impossible to cross.
I don't know who he is anymore. I don't know if I want to know.
By early evening, Matteo is exhausted, and I put him to bed in his room, tucking him in. I kiss his forehead, smooth his hair back from his face, and promise him that everything will be okay, even though I'm not sure I believe it myself.
I learned a long time ago that promises are just words. Words can't stop bullets, or fists, or the inevitable moment when Gio finds us.
I stand there for a long moment, watching him. I'll keep you safe, I promise silently, a desperate plea to whatever god might be listening. No matter what it takes. No matter what I have to do.
Even if it means staying here. Even if it means—
I don't let myself finish the thought. I leave his room quietly, my body aching from the tension I've been carrying all day.
The penthouse is quiet again, most of Lachlan's men gone or out of sight, and I'm grateful for the solitude.
I need some time alone with my thoughts without having to pretend that things are normal for Matteo's sake, or deal with the tension of being around Lachlan.
I go downstairs to get some water, and then head to the stairs to go up to my room. Halfway there, I hear a door close and footsteps coming closer, and I turn before I can stop myself.
Lachlan is walking toward me from the direction of the gym, and the sight of him makes my breath stop in my throat. Every thought in my head scatters like leaves in the wind.
He's shirtless, his skin gleaming with sweat, his muscles thicker than usual from his workout.
His hair is damp, pushed back from his face, and I can see every line of muscle, every ridge of his abdomen, every inch of tattooed skin that covers his arms and shoulders and chest. He looks devastatingly handsome and terrifyingly dangerous.
The last time I saw him shirtless, he had the taut stomach of a young man, with divots at the sides of his abdomen and those deep cuts leading down into his jeans. His skin was smooth and mostly unmarked. He was beautiful and sexy beyond belief, but this…
This man has carved himself into a weapon. I can barely even imagine running my hands over him, seeing that powerful body drawn toward mine with desire. The thought is dizzying, and I can feel the blood rushing from my face as I stare at him, my pulse throbbing in my throat.
He sees me, and he stops. The air between us is instantly charged, and he makes no effort to shrink back or hide any part of himself.
And why would he? He wants me… and he wants me to want him.
There's no better way to make me remember the parts of myself that used to want than to show me what I'm looking at right now.
Even if there's no way I'm going to allow myself to be drawn close enough to be burned.
I can see the surprise in his eyes at seeing me here, feel his awareness of me, the same sudden tension that's flooding through my own body like fire through dry grass.
For a moment, neither of us moves or speaks.
I can feel my heart pounding so hard I'm sure he must be able to hear it as heat spreads through my body.
"Adriana." His voice is rough and low. It sends a shiver down my spine that I can't suppress. "I didn't know you were still up."
"I was just putting Matteo to bed," I manage. My voice sounds breathless, like I've been running instead of just standing here. "I'm going to my room now."
"Okay." He doesn't move or look away. I can see the tension in his body, like he's physically restraining himself from reaching for me. "Did you... did you have a good day? With Matteo?"