Chapter 22 #2
After another moment of uncertainty, I inch closer and settle my head on his chest while he wraps his arm around me.
“You said that last time, and then we fell asleep together.”
“That’s because you never said you were done.” He combs his fingers through my hair, and my eyes flutter closed.
I never said I was done because it felt too good, just like this does right now.
I like the warmth of his solid body, and the slow sweep of his hand along the curve of my back. I like that I can hear the rhythm of his heartbeat, and that tomorrow, my pillows and sheets will smell like him.
But I shouldn’t get used to it, so I revert to what I know best.
“I think that’s good,” I tell him after a few minutes.
He nods silently, releasing me from his hold, and I scoot over, creating some distance between us. But as I lie there with my eyes closed, something restless settles over me.
I try shifting onto my side and hugging my extra pillow, but sleep doesn’t come. And when I roll back over and glance at his bare chest, I feel a longing I don’t want to admit.
I lie there for a while longer until I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m cold, and I can’t sleep,” I complain.
Cristian opens his eyes to look over at me. “Do you want another blanket?”
Of course he has to come up with a practical solution, which only annoys me more. I’m not even cold, but I don’t know how to ask for what I want without feeling weak.
“That won’t be enough,” I murmur.
“Hmm.” He scrapes a hand over his face, undoubtedly hiding his amusement. “A hot shower?”
“No.” I sigh.
“What about this?” He reaches for my hand and presses it against his chest.
I let a few moments pass like I’m really taking the time to consider it before I concede.
“I guess that will work.”
“Come here then.”
I’m grateful he doesn’t make me say it because as silly as it may be, needing someone for anything feels unbearably uncomfortable. Yet, somehow, when I nestle back into the space he provides for me, the only thing I feel is safe.
“I hate you for doing this to me,” I whisper against him.
“I know.” He drags his fingers over my back in a familiar pattern, as if he’s tracing the outline of something there. “But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Is that your way of claiming ownership of me?”
“Call it whatever you want, as long as you know you’re mine.”
Those words etch themselves deep inside me, bringing too many emotions to the surface. It’s impossible to sort through them right now, so I don’t even try.
As I close my eyes and settle in for the night, the idea of belonging here doesn’t bother me nearly as much as I think it should.
And in his arms, sleep swiftly carries me away.
I wake up feeling too cold, and when I open my eyes to find the space beside me empty, my stomach sinks.
Naturally, my mind offers up an endless buffet of possibilities.
He’s decided I’m too much work.
He’s finally come to his senses and realized I’m a hot mess.
And worst of all, he’s changed his mind…about Jolie.
Those all seem like plausible scenarios until I hear the voices down the hall.
It takes me a minute to register that it’s Cristian and Angelo, but it’s not hard to piece together what they’re discussing.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Angelo bites out.
“Bastien needs to make a decision. We made our position clear, and dragging this out won’t change what we have to offer him.”
“Well, he made his decision.” Angelo’s voice sharpens. “And you just handed this deal to Ares on a silver fucking platter.”
“Bastien will come to his senses once he realizes how insane Ares is. If he doesn’t, I’ll figure something else out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out,” Angelo says. “It’s over.”
“There are other ways to expand.”
“Not like this. You just gave Ares the monopoly on the European market. And for what? You know you can’t trust her.”
A long, tense silence follows, and it speaks volumes.
“Cristian,” Angelo prompts him.
“I heard what you said.”
He has no argument for that, which only confirms my suspicions. Cristian knows I’m hiding something, and there’s at least a part of him that believes Angelo is right. He can’t trust me.
I don’t know why it feels like a punch to the gut, because it’s at least partially true. I can’t reveal my identity, and if Cristian does uncover it, I can only imagine two natural conclusions. He’ll think that I’ve betrayed him, and he’ll be disgusted by who I really am.
I wouldn’t be surprised if they have people excavating my entire life right now. And this is exactly what I didn’t want.
If word gets out about me, I could be marked for certain death. Either my past will come calling, or the Vitales will realize they’ve had a blood enemy at their table all along. I don’t know how they’ll handle that, but I know how things work in the world I was raised in.
The Mafia isn’t known for forgiveness, and I can’t count on a man to protect me over his own interests. The man I was supposed to marry certainly didn’t. And neither did my father.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but it shouldn’t be. I’ve known this all along.
I live with enough guilt for deceiving my friends, and I don’t need to add Cristian to that list. He’s making sacrifices with the belief that this could actually be more than what it is.
But it can’t be.
I need to make that clear before I ruin both of our lives.