8. Kaz
It’s alwaysone step forward, ten steps back with Caelia. She’s one of the few people in the world who puzzle me, keeping me in a state of constant wonder. Tonight, however, is different. It’s the first night in a while when she doesn’t flinch, and the wall between us feels less daunting. It wasn’t Caelia who built this barrier, but Mattia, and she continued to add bricks until not even the sky was visible.
She’s patching me up, although I didn’t ask. I have some experience with suturing wounds and removing bullets, so it’s nothing that will kill me. But I enjoy having her delicate hands care for me, her breath tickling my skin whenever she comes closer. I didn’t feel anything when it happened; I was too focused on neutralizing one of Ermanno’s men guarding the crates of drugs.
My tattoos and scars have always been a fluke in the plan. I replicated the ones Mattia had visible but refused to rid myself of my own. Keeping them hidden from others had never been an issue. His wife is an entirely different story. I came up with a stupid plan to never allow her to see me naked in case she paid too much attention to Mattia’s skin, and tonight, not only did she catch me off guard when she came into my bedroom, but she confessed he never saw him naked. I can’t comprehend how messed up their marriage has been so far.
Although our deal is off, I have kept my promise. And she has kept half of hers. She joins me for either breakfast or dinner, often remaining silent. She’s there, but not really. There’s an ocean stretching between us that I still have no idea how to cross, and every time I think I might be better off just giving up, she smiles or replies to a question I asked, making me see behind the hurt and the pain. And it keeps me going.
“How about watching a movie instead?” she suggests out of the blue. “And I could sleep here if that’s okay with you.”
No, it’s not okay. It will be torture, driving me to the brink of madness. I can barely share the same space without snapping and fucking her senseless.
“Only if you promise not to make me sit through a rom-com or some other shit.”
She presses her lips together, struggling to hold back her laughter. There will come a day when she won’t be able to hold herself back, and I will hear how that sounds. It may prove addictive, but I’m willing to risk it. How far can I fall?
“What do you know about rom-coms?”
I have a younger sister who loves that shit. I can’t tell her that, so I grin.
“Make the popcorn? I’ll change into something more comfortable.”
“Sure.”
I’m unsure what I agree to, but I can afford to take the night off. My uncle has access to the Benedetti family’s future transportation schedule. We will take care of it, one by one, destroying everything and every alliance the Benedetti family has until there is nothing left of them. When we’re done with them, I can return home.
I descend the stairs, lost in my thoughts. Caelia is a beautiful mess. I thought I’d get over whatever this was when I was going to meet her, expecting anything other than this. Now, I face the risk that she may become a liability I cannot afford. And I can’t seem to stay away from her. There are moments when her eyes soften, when her defenses crumble, and I am drawn closer, always wanting more. Her confessions, her smiles—I’ll take them all—her tears, and her rage.
I need to know the real Caelia, not the woman Mattia tried to turn her into.
You’re not him, I remind myself.
It’s easy to forget at times. It’s easy when sometimes I spend the entire day asking myself what Mattia would do, and then I come to this place he shared with his wife, who despises him. I know precisely what he would do. He’d try to break her. He’d take the misfortunes of the day out on her. And when she fights me, I wonder if taking what I want wouldn’t be easier. When I’m tired and my head is pounding, I’m almost slipping.
You’re not him.
Caelia is waiting for me in the center of the bed when I return; her silhouette is bathed in the soft glow of the TV. The bowl of popcorn almost slips from my hand. I had grown accustomed to her attempts to cover herself as much as possible, but she had chosen differently tonight. She wears a top and silky red shorts, exposing her legs, clavicle, delicate arms, and neck too much. She cleaned my wound, offered to share the bed with me, and now she’s going down this road.
I clear my throat. “So, what are we watching?”
“Vikings, Supernatural, or Breaking Bad. Your choice.”
It’s not a rom-com, then. I smirk, watching her closely as I enter the room, waiting for any sign of regret or flinching. Instead, she scoots closer to the edge of the bed, making room for me.
“Tough choices, Wildfire. Tough choices.”
Caelia is a strong woman, but she’s been through too much. Every corner of this house serves as a reminder of her past. Her flinching is an unconscious reaction, one she can’t control. Her body reacts before her mind can catch up. She has only shared fragments of what she has been through, using them to provoke a reaction from the husband she believes me to be. Now, even the simplest acts of kindness or closeness cause her to be on edge. It may take years to rebuild her trust. Years I don’t have.
“I’m fine with whatever you want to watch.”
I place the bowl between us on the bed and settle down. I’m determined to make her feel comfortable and safe. She slips under the covers, turning on Vikings.
It’s going to be a very long night for me.