Chapter 9 Viviana
He's been gone for two hours.
I know this because I've been watching the clock on the kitchen microwave like it holds the secrets of the universe. Two hours and seventeen minutes, to be exact. The meeting was supposed to take an hour, maybe ninety minutes at the most.
I should be thinking about Papa. About what he'll say when he sees Damon's video, about whether he'll believe I'm really safe, about whether he'll try to negotiate for my release or accept that I need to stay hidden until this threat is eliminated.
Instead, I can't stop thinking about the way Damon looked at me before he left. Like he was memorizing my face. Like he thought he might not see me again.
I've paced every room in this house at least once, tried to read three different books without retaining a single word, and started watching a movie before turning it off after ten minutes because I couldn't concentrate.
The silence is driving me crazy.
At home, there was always noise. Papa conducting business in his office, my brothers arguing, Mama playing piano in the sitting room. The house was full of life, full of people, full of the comfortable chaos of a large family.
Here, there's nothing but the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional creak of the house settling.
And my own thoughts, which are becoming increasingly dangerous.
Because somewhere between this morning's coffee and tonight's goodbye, I stopped thinking of Damon as my captor and started thinking of him as... what? My protector? My ally?
I shake my head, trying to dispel the thought. This is Stockholm syndrome or proximity attraction or whatever psychological term exists for developing feelings for someone you're forced to depend on.
It has to be.
Because the alternative, that I'm actually falling for Damon Lombardi, heir to my family's biggest enemy, is too complicated to consider.
But then I remember the way he touched my face in the gym. How he admitted I was bad for him but said it like it might be worth it anyway.
I sink onto the living room couch and pull my knees up to my chest. This is ridiculous. I've known him for less than a week. A week ago, I didn't even know his name. A week ago, I was sneaking out to clubs and flirting with college boys and thinking that was the height of rebellion.
Now I'm sitting in a safe house belonging to a man who kills people for a living, worrying about whether he's going to make it back alive from a meeting with my own father.
When did this become my life?
In real life, the mafia princess doesn't get to ride off into the sunset with the enemy's son. In real life, people like Damon and me are kept apart by family loyalty and blood feuds and the kind of violence that leaves bodies in alleys.
In real life, wanting someone you can't have just leads to heartbreak.
But knowing that doesn't make me want him any less.
If anything, it makes me want him more. The danger, the sheer stupidity of it all is intoxicating in a way that my safe rebellions never were.
For the first time in my life, I want something I can't have. Something that could destroy everything I've ever known.
And that should terrify me.
Instead, it makes me feel alive.
I'm still curled up on the couch, when I realize a fact that should probably terrify me but doesn't.
I'm not just worried about Damon coming back safely.
I'm hoping he does.
Not because I need him to survive, not because he's my only protection, but because the thought of never seeing him again makes me inexplicably sad.
Which means this stopped being about survival somewhere along the way.
This stopped being about Stockholm syndrome or proximity or any of the rational explanations I've been giving myself.
This is about wanting Damon Lombardi, enemy or not.
And that realization should send me running in the opposite direction.
Instead, it makes me want to run toward whatever this is, consequences be damned.
I understand now what it means to want something so badly you'd risk everything for it.
Even if it could destroy you.