Chapter 5 #2
A fleeting thought enters my mind about who this man is and how he overpowered them so easily, but it slips away as he carries me off.
After a few minutes, I realize he’s retracing the same path I took from the penthouse.
As if he can sense me piecing this together, he repeats the same steady assurance.
“You’re safe now, Gabriela.”
Maybe I shouldn’t believe it, but something in my gut tells me I can trust him.
I may not know exactly who he is, but I’ve talked to him every day for months, and he’s never made me feel unsafe.
In fact, the opposite is true. I’ve felt comfortable enough to share my most private thoughts with him, and that doesn’t happen often.
There are still unanswered questions, like how he knew where I was tonight, or how he knows where I live. But considering what would have happened to me if he hadn’t shown up, they don’t seem as important right now.
The walk back to the penthouse goes quickly, though I’m not sure how he does it without breaking a sweat. It can’t be easy to carry an entire person that distance, even if he’s built like he was sent to earth to destroy it. His body is so solid, I haven’t felt so much as a tremor in his muscles.
As my head rests against his chest, I let my gaze wander the length of him.
Beneath those dark clothes, I can only imagine there’s a gladiator—someone built for predation and violence.
He could probably crush my windpipe with just a few of those fingers, and his shadow alone could blot out my entire existence.
It should probably terrify me, but my brain hasn’t gotten the memo.
Heat radiates from his body, easing the chill in mine.
With every step, I breathe in the faintest hint of something woodsy, like cedar and cloves.
He’s not wearing cologne, so I suspect it’s a lingering trace of soap.
It reminds me of a winter night, the crisp scent of fresh snow and the cozy warmth of a fire.
I close my eyes, letting that imagery imprint on me until we reach my building. When we do, I realize that he might just leave me here, and a hollow ache settles in my chest. After what just happened, the idea of being alone unsettles me.
He seems to sense that fear, perhaps because I’m squeezing him so tightly, and offers me some reassurance.
“I’m taking you inside.”
I release the breath I’m holding, barely registering him withdrawing the keycard from my wristlet. When he taps it against the keypad, the door buzzes open, and he stalks through the lobby with a familiarity I choose not to acknowledge. There’s only so much I can deal with in one night.
As we approach the elevator, it occurs to me that Julian could still be awake, and he might hear our arrival.
I’m not sure what he’d do if he saw this man enter the penthouse with me in his arms. Fortunately, I don’t have to find out.
When the private car arrives on the penthouse floor, it opens to a quiet space, exactly as I left it.
Eros turns and carries me toward my room without asking for directions—another problem to address later.
When he opens my door, Beppe pokes his head out from beneath a blanket. Upon sensing my current state, he hops out of bed to assess the situation. He doesn’t like it when I’m distressed and he can’t get to me easily, but after a quick sniff, he determines that Eros isn’t a threat.
Eros approaches my bed and tries to offload me, but my limbs seem to be locked around him, and I can’t let go. For a long moment, he stands there, deciding what to do with me.
I want to explain that this happens sometimes, but I’m still having trouble formulating a sentence. Eros seems to understand this, and he sits down on the bed with me on his lap.
Beppe uses his ramp to join us, lying against my leg to apply warmth and pressure.
Eros splays his hands across my back, massaging the tension from my body.
I’m not always comfortable with physical contact, and I tend to go rigid when someone touches me. But his comfort doesn’t feel unwelcome. It feels safe. So much so, it tips me over the edge of my emotional threshold, and tears leak from my eyes.
He doesn’t recoil or tell me to stop crying. Instead, he sits with me in silence, letting me process everything that happened tonight. Gradually, my body thaws, and I let out a shuddering breath as I come back to myself.
“Finished rebooting?” he murmurs, injecting some much-needed levity in the moment.
A soft laugh escapes me before I finally manage a sentence. “Yes, I think so. That happens sometimes.”
“Let me guess, you’re running the new cute-but-chaotic version?” he teases.
“Well, it’s definitely an upgrade from the I-messed-up-spectacularly version.”
“You couldn’t have known what they were planning.” The modulated tone softens.
“No, but I should have trusted my instincts. Something felt off, and I ignored it. I thought he was you. Or maybe that’s just what I wanted to believe.”
His body stiffens, and it’s obvious that bothers him…a lot.
“You did nothing wrong, Gabi. There never should have been any question about who you were talking to, and that’s on me.”
I’m not sure that’s a fair assessment, but when his thumb grazes my jaw, it’s all I can do to focus on his next words.
“I’ll never let him hurt you again.”
“Did you…beat them up?” I ask.
“Something like that,” he answers vaguely.
Silence stretches between us as I settle my face against his chest, soaking up his warmth. He combs his fingers through my hair, his heartbeat a steady, calming rhythm that almost lulls me to sleep.
It’s slightly unnerving how much I like this. I don’t even hug the closest people in my life, and I wasn’t sure how I would respond to this kind of intimacy. Even though I craved it, I feared I might never be able to relax enough to enjoy it.
Right now, I’m so relaxed I’m entertaining thoughts about climbing inside his hoodie and burrowing against him like Beppe does.
I shift slightly, pressing closer to him, and it’s impossible not to notice the huge, solid length beneath me.
“You have an erection.” The observation tumbles from my mouth before I can stop it.
Smooth.
“I’m aware.” A dry breath scrapes out of him. “Do you want me to move you now?”
“No.” My grip on him tightens. “Not yet.”
He nods, and I tilt my head to look up at him. “You’re still wearing your mask.”
“I’m shy.” He shrugs.
I don’t believe that for a second, but I suspect he means it as a joke.
“I like it.” I reach up, brushing my fingers over the material. “We can stay anonymous…or, at least, you can.”
“Still trying to keep things casual?”
The inflection of his voice changes, and even through the modulator, I detect a note of tension. This conversation didn’t end well last time, but I’m too embarrassed to admit I don’t want to get attached.
I don’t think I’m a casual kind of girl, given that I’m still not over my first and only love nine years later.
I already gave my heart to someone else, and I can’t tear it in half.
But even if I could, this thing between us can’t go anywhere.
The mask feels like armor—a way to protect myself from getting too close to him.
Faces are intimate. Micro expressions. Eye color. The million little details we unconsciously study in every interaction. If I knew those things about him, it would only make it harder when I have to leave this behind for Riccardo.
“You told me you aren’t good for me,” I remind him. “The mask keeps things simple. You won’t have to worry about that when you’re with me, because I won’t even know who you are.”
“I also told you I’d ruin you,” he answers darkly.
“Well, maybe I want you to.”
God, that sounded really dirty.
He lets out a rough exhalation, his erection throbbing beneath me. I want to reach down and explore every inch of that solid, heavy weight. Now that I’ve felt it, my curiosity won’t let it go.
“Can we do something besides talk?” I ask.
“What do you have in mind?”
In a moment of bravery, I drag my fingers over the expanse of his chest, all the way down to his pants. But just as I skim the material, barely catching a feel, he grabs my wrist.
“Gabriela, you had a bad night.”
“I know. But it could have been a lot worse if you weren’t there.”
“I don’t want to be your appreciation fuck.”
Those words blister under my skin, triggering an all-too-familiar feeling of rejection.
“Okay.” I try to climb off him, and he stops me.
“I didn’t say you could get up,” he growls.
“Well, you’re confusing me.” My voice wavers.
He brushes my hair back, softening his tone. “Let’s try something else.”
When he makes his intention to move me obvious, I reach down and stroke Beppe’s fur, directing him to his blanket.
Eros rolls me onto the bed, settling his body over mine as he grabs the remote from my nightstand. With the press of a button, the shades come down, drenching the room in blackness.
I can’t see anything, but I can feel his weight shifting as he removes his mask and gloves and sets them aside.
“Comfortable?” he asks.
“Yes, but…how does your voice still sound like that?”
“It’s a tactical laryngophone with a vocal processor,” he explains. “It captures vibrations using the larynx and alters the frequency in real time. It’s throat-mounted, so the collar works with or without a mask.”
“That sounds way more technical than cosplay.”
“That’s because it is.” A trace of humor touches his response. “Let’s just say it’s not something you can buy at a box store.”
Naturally, I’m wondering how he’d even get something like that. He found me on the university Discord, so he must be a student. But what kind of student takes down four men the way he did?
“Were you in the military?” I ask.
“No.” The thought seems to entertain him. “I’ve never been in the military. Now you need to answer a question for me.”
“Okay. What is it?”
“Have you ever let anyone kiss you?” The warmth of his words grazes my lips, sending a shock through me.