Chapter 19
SOPHIA
Two days pass, and I don’t see Luca at all. It’s Diego who feeds me, omelets that taste like they have chorizo in them, sandwiches with thick slices of tomato. I shouldn’t miss Luca.
On the second day, Diego hands me a towel and a pair of sweats and t-shirt.
I raise an eyebrow, looking at the soap he left on top of the clothes.
“Trying to tell me something?”
He shrugs. “Just thought you might want to change. That dress can’t be comfortable.”
It isn’t, and I’m probably starting to smell pretty ripe, given I haven’t showered in two days.
“Thank you,” I say simply, taking the stack from him. He leads me to the master bedroom, which is full of office supplies, stacked paperwork in boxes all over the room.
He jerks his head toward the bathroom, which contains a big clawfoot tub.
I nearly groan as I see it, my muscles aching to sink into a hot bath.
“I’ll be right outside, so don’t get any ideas,” he warns, but there’s no real edge to it.
I know Diego wouldn’t let me escape, but he wouldn’t be emotional about it. He’d just throw me right back in that little room. The idea makes me shiver, and I wiggle out of the dress, letting it pool on the floor. If I never see that little gold number again, it’ll be too soon.
Naked and standing in front of the mirror, I touch the fingerprint bruises that Luca left on my hip bones. He’s also left a hickey on my neck, one so obvious I can’t believe Diego didn’t point it out. Maybe he’s just too polite.
I can’t believe Luca fucked me rough and dirty and just left without another word. I can’t exactly be offended. After all, I am lying to him. I think of Rosa and my chest aches. I hope she’s okay. I know Agnes will play with her, distract her from wondering where I am.
God, I hope I can get back to her. Someday.
But that won’t be today. Today I just have to take what little pleasures I can get—good food, a hot bath.
I run the water as hot as I can stand it, and when the tub is full I lower myself down into it with a low hiss. I can’t help but moan softly as the hot water envelops my sore muscles. My thighs are sore from trying to run and probably from the sex, too, and my shoulders feel tight.
I start to relax in the hot water, though, letting my mind wander.
I think of Rosa first, her bright green eyes looking up at me.
I can’t stop feeling guilty for how frustrated I was with her the last time we spent time together.
Why did I care about the stupid shoes? I should have hugged her tighter, told her I loved her again.
I think of Scott, who is probably losing his mind looking for me. By now, he’s probably had to tell the force and everyone is likely on alert. I don’t know how Luca thinks he’s going to get away with this. I have to make him believe I’m not a cop and I have to make sure I keep Rosa a secret.
I can’t trust him with that information. He’ll never be any kind of father to her. I don’t regret not telling Luca when I got pregnant, not after what I know now. He’s a thug. A criminal.
And also my daughter’s father. But he’ll never know that.
I slide down further in the water, loving the heat of it. Getting clean is definitely making me feel more like a person. Being in that dirty club dress for two days was gross.
My thoughts wander to Luca before I can stop myself. The way he’d touched me, been so rough with me only to eat me out after like I’m something precious.
How am I supposed to feel? I should be embarrassed, letting him touch me after he kidnapped me, but all I’ve wanted for years is his touch.
It’s just hard to explain that, even to myself. That I want him even though I shouldn’t, even though he’s dangerous, even though we’re on opposite sides of the law.
The law.
Do I even care about it the way I used to? I think of my father, of his wide, proud smile when I’d graduated the academy. I squeeze my eyes shut against sudden tears. He’d been so proud. What would he think if he knew about this?
I take in a shaking breath. He’d hate it. Hate me. Or worse, be disappointed in me. I wish I could talk to him. But he wants me to right all the wrongs in the flawed police system. He’s just so convinced that I can make change from within.
I thought I’d be done seeking his approval once I made detective, but it just seems like his expectations have grown even further. I don’t just have to be a cop—I have to be a perfect cop, and no one can live up to those standards. Not forever, at least.
But maybe I can break this case wide open. Maybe I’ll get some information to put Luca away, not just for a few nights, but for years. If I just had a location of one of their shipments, something that could tie him to them…
I need to focus. I need Luca to stay away from me so that I can focus. Because as long as he’s in my sight, I can’t seem to think about anything but his hands all over me.
It would have helped if the sex this time was bad, or at least not as earth-shattering as the first night. But of course, it had been amazing. Life-changing. The whole reason I haven’t been with anyone since him is because I was worried about it being this good.
It’s hard to get over sex that good, even if it came from a criminal. My enemy.
I groan softly and slide my hands under the water, rubbing across my thighs. Heat flashes through me as I take a cloth and rub myself down, over my breasts, skidding across a peaked nipple. Why am I still so worked up? It’s only been two days.
It feels like a lifetime. I remember his hands on me, how roughly he’d spread my thighs before diving in to eat me out. His tongue, how he moaned when I ground my hips against his face.
Men before him have eaten me out, sure. But they always acted like it was a chore, some obstacle to get through before they could get inside of me. Luca had pleasured me after he got off, making sure that I was putty in his hands before he just…
Left.
And why am I so upset that he left? What did I expect? For him to fall in love with me or something? After one night and a whole bunch of lies?
He’s right. I am lying to him. About being a cop. About so many things.
But he still wants me, and god knows I want him. What does that say about me? About us?
I stop trying to justify it and squeeze my eyes shut, picturing his shirtless frame in my mind’s eye. His broad chest, right at my eye level. The gold cross he wears, bouncing in my face as he fucks me.
Luca’s muscular, of course, but he’s big, too, where it counts. The way he stretches me out can’t be done with my small fingers, but I try, gasping out his name as I shove two fingers inside myself.
The clicking sound of the door opening startles me, and I remove my fingers quickly.
“Diego?”
“You think Diego is going to walk in on you bathing? Should I be worried?”
It’s not Diego’s low timbre but Luca’s, and when I turn his green eyes look down at me with an intensity that I can’t quite figure out. What does it mean when he looks at me like that? Is he angry?
I bite my lip. “Not like I get much privacy around here.”
“Prisoners don’t get privacy.”
I scoff. “So you admit it? I’m a prisoner?”
“Never said you were anything more than that.”
His words hurt even though they shouldn’t. Why should I care if he hates me? But my heart sinks all the same.
“Can you get out? I’m almost done.”
He hums in the back of his throat, rocking back on his heels, and I just glare at him.
“If you’re just going to come in here and insult me—” I start, but I trail off as he crouches next to the bathtub, dropping down to his knees.
“Should have let you shower sooner,” he says, his tone actually apologetic and I look at him incredulously.
He takes the cloth from the side of the tub and dips it in the water, rubbing it across my back.
“Luca, what are you—”
He shushes me, running the wet rag across the nape of my neck. It makes goosebumps pop up along my flesh.
“Even prisoners deserve to be clean,” he murmurs, and what kind of person am I that this simple act of kindness is making me tear up?
The cloth sweeps along my skin as he rubs it further down to the crack of my ass. I gasp as he moves the cloth along my chest, the edge of it dragging across my hard nipple.
“I can wash myself,” I mumble, but I don’t make a move to pull away. This is nice, actually. I’ve never had anyone bathe me like this, take care of me like this. Not since I was little.
I just got used to taking care of myself after Mama died.
“Just relax.”
Easy for him to say. He’s not the one with a dangerous mobster washing his wet, naked, vulnerable body. I should be afraid more than excited, but my racing heartbeat and flushed skin gives me away.
“You’re tense.”
“No shit.”
“You don’t think I’d hurt you, do you, pixie?”
I stare at him, my mouth slightly pouted. “What, you’re saying I should feel safe with you?”
“Have I harmed you?’
“Not physically.”
“And I won’t,” he says firmly, something earnest in his green eyes. “I will never physically harm you.”
“That leaves emotional harm, verbal harm…” I trail off when he sets his mouth in a hard line.
“If you tell me what I want to know, no harm will come to you.”
His voice is calm but he’s not looking at me, just washing down my arms and legs. The cloth gets close to my inner thigh and I try not to react but I flinch.
“Are you sore, pixie?” he asks quietly.
“A little.”
He hums. “I was too rough with you.”
“No,” I say quickly, unable to bear his pained expression. “I…I liked it.”
“Still. There’s a time to be rough and a time to be gentle, and given all you’ve been through…”
I can tell he’s blaming himself, punishing himself.
He’s not as cruel as I would have imagined. He’s not the monster that the dossier paints him as. And that’s why I’m so confused.
“All men can be monsters, darling,” my father always said.
But there’s more man in this monster than I could have ever anticipated.
When he cups my pussy, his thumb pressing gently against my clit, I breathe out a long moan. I rock my hips to get more friction, grasping onto his forearm with my right hand. He slides two fingers in, just to the knuckle, and it’s not enough.
“Please,” I whisper, and his gaze shoots to mine, only for an instant, before he shoves his two fingers deep, flexing them so that he drags the pads of his fingers along my g-spot.
I nearly jump out of the water but he keeps going, his thumb sliding across my clit with every thrust.
“That’s it, pixie. Come apart for me. Let go,” he croons as I keep rocking my hips desperately.
When I come, I cry out his name, shuddering all over. I can’t seem to stop trembling because he keeps up the pace, working his fingers in and out of me as I keep clenching around them.
He groans, close to my ear, brushing his lips across my temple. “Come on, sweetheart. Give me a few more.”
And just like he’s summoned more orgasms just by saying it, I keep coming, exploding around his fingers, growing so slick from his ministrations that the sounds in the room become lewd.
“I can’t,” I gasp when he keeps going.
He grunts. “You can, pixie. One more.”
I go limp other than shivering when I come one final time, and he finger fucks me through it for so long that I drag in a ragged breath.
“There you go,” he praises. “Good girl.”
My skin is heated all over and I expect him to just leave again, to say something cruel and go just like he did last time.
Instead, he lets out the water, just sitting by me and caressing my thigh as it swirls down the drain.
I’m panting, exhausted, and I don’t make a fuss when he takes a towel and scoops me up into his arms, covering me partially with it. He carries me into the bedroom, shifting me once to make sure the towel covers my bits.
He carries me right past Diego in the hall. Diego doesn’t even look up.
I keep waiting for Luca to leave, but he doesn’t. He lies me down in the bed, the sheets fresh, and dries me off before depositing the towel in the laundry basket. I’m too shocked to protest when he climbs into bed with me, drawing me into his arms.
I put my head against his chest and my eyes drift shut.
The mobster’s heartbeat lulls me to sleep.