CHAPTER 22
Santino
Chaos didn’t knock. It tore through.
And somewhere along the way, Roxanne became mine. I couldn’t pinpoint when it happened. Just that one day she was… everywhere.
In every decision. Every silence. In the things I didn’t do because of her.
And the frightening part wasn’t wanting her anymore.
It was how normal it started to feel. Like she’d rearranged my whole damn life while I wasn’t paying attention.
I told myself distance would fix it. That if I stayed away long enough, that whatever this was—would die.
It didn’t. Instead it just hollowed me out slowly and called it survival.
But the dangerous part was that obsession stops feeling insane after a while. It starts feeling logical.
I’d never been this way about anyone. Not once. Not even close. Not even when I was married. But somehow Roxanne always seeped into my mind, like she’d engraved herself somewhere deeper than thought. And I don’t think she even realised what she’d done to me.
People talk about desire like it burns hot.
They never tell you the terrifying part is when it settles into your bones and becomes part of you.
And I tried letting her go. The devil knows I tried.
But letting go of her felt like cutting away a vital organ and pretending I could survive without it.
It felt wrong, which was why I’d left two years ago in the first place.
Not because I didn’t feel it. Because I did.
Long before I ever let myself touch her.
Long before the kiss. I just never said it out loud.
Because I knew myself. And I knew exactly what I’m capable of when something becomes mine. Because the second I did, there’d be no line I wouldn’t cross to keep her.
I tried to starve out this feeling. Kill it before it destroyed her too. Instead, the bastard grew teeth. And then I kissed her, and the taste of her wrecked me worse than any blade.
And everything I’d buried came roaring back.
When she looked me in the eye, breath ragged, body flushed, calling to me—it went straight through my chest. As if she pushed the broken pieces aside and said—I see you.All of you. Like I wasn’t broken or beyond saving. Like I wasn’t too much.
It felt like she reached into hell, pulled my soul out of the devil’s hands and marked it as her own.
Do I regret it? Not for a second.
I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. And more.
But then fear took over. Because as far as I knew, Roxanne wore her heart on her sleeve. And she always chose others before she chose herself. And if I stayed close, guilt would’ve eaten her alive. She needed to process everything as much as I did.
So I did what I always do. I left. Rode until the night burned out.
I thought about the ring again. About breaking something.
About bleeding her out of my system. But I knew this time it wouldn’t work.
And no woman would even compare to take the edge off, so getting a release was out of the question.
Because it was her. Still her. Always her. Etched so deep I couldn’t tell where she ended and I began.
There was a difference between wanting someone and not being able to function without them. I’d crossed that line.
The monster in me had always wanted destruction.
Violence. Blood. Control.
But around her, it did something far worse. It calmed.
Like she’d reached into the dark and taught it how to kneel.And now that it had tasted peace in her hands, it would tear the world apart before letting her go.
The wind and rain cleared the fog in my head. By noon I was back at the cottage. Waiting. This time, I wasn’t backing down. I’d fucked this once, walking away when it mattered. When I could have had her without a guilty conscience.
But I wasn’t doing that again. Not to her.
I checked the clock again like a lunatic even though I knew damn well what it said.
5:03 p.m.
Five minutes later I checked it again.
5:04.
Roxanne should’ve been home. She was never this late. Never without texting.
It was fine, I told myself. Sometimes she got lost in her work, losing track of time. She’d be here any minute now.
I told myself not to pace. Lasted about ten seconds before I was moving again. Back and forth, back and forth, like a caged animal, pulse hammering, every ugly thought clawing at me.
Did I push her too far? Or did she run?
The thought arrived before I could stop it. I shook my head in denial. She kissed me back, just as hard. I know she did. She’d chosen to. She’d woken up, regretted the kiss, and left.
My chest tightened. That wasn’t fear.
Maybe recognition. Or a premonition.
Then where the hell was she?
By six I’d called her six times. Straight to voicemail. Every damn call.
By 7:30 p.m., the storm outside had gone from irritating to biblical—rain smashing the windows sideways, wind howling like the old gods were pissed off.
And me? I’d stopped pretending I wasn’t worried.
Fear did ugly things to men like me. It turned instinct into violence.
By eight, I drove to the manor site because I couldn’t sit still another second. Callum had returned her car in the morning before heading back to the site. So she should’ve been there.
The guard at the manor gate recognised me instantly and perked up.
“Where is she?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“She didn’t come to site today,” he said, Irish lilt cutting through the rain.
My stomach dropped hard enough to hurt. My mind spun, round and round. For a second, every possibility arrived at once.
Where could she be?
I immediately called Ritu.
“To what do I owe this call?” she asked.
“Where’s Roxanne?”
“Didn’t she come back? We went to an art gallery earlier, and I left her there.”
“Send me the location. Now.”
I hung up before she could say anything. My jaw locked. I was at my wits’ end. I tried calling Roxanne again. Then sent out a text.
I turned back to the car and my phone dinged. My heart skipped a beat. For a second I thought it was her. It wasn’t.Ritu had sent the location.
The gallery was an hour and a half drive from the manor. I drove toward it, every inch of me vibrating with a sick cocktail of worry and fury. The rain slammed the windshield, wind howling like a feral wolf.
The street where the gallery was located was empty. Like the storm had swallowed everything alive and left the street behind like a ghost town. The gallery was shut. Dark.
What did I expect? That she’d be waiting with bated breath for over four hours? I tried calling again. Still no answer.
I tapped the steering wheel once. Twice.
“You gave me no choice, Volpi.”
I pulled out my phone and opened the app. I’d discreetly installed the app on her phone after dropping her home on Halloween. Not because I wanted to control her. Because the world was full of men worse than me. I never thought I’d have to use it. I’d planned on being around her—always.
Her location flickered on the screen. She was close.
So where the hell was she?
I furrowed my brows, punched in the coordinates and headed to her.
“You better be there, Volpi. And better have a good reason too…” I muttered under my breath before moving.
“... or I’m gonna rip this town apart.”