Chapter Eight AURORA #2
I frowned. His gaze remained fixed on the rain.
"People always talk about silence after death. That's bullshit. Nothing gets quieter." Thunder cracked across the sky. The glass walls vibrated. Santino didn't react. "The phones ring. The condolences start. The lawyers arrive."
A bitter laugh escaped him. "Everybody needs something."
My chest hurt.
"The world just keeps talking." The storm roared outside. "And eventually..."
His voice dropped lower. "...you realize they're all moving forward."
The words settled between us. Heavy. Permanent.
"You aren't, though,” I said softly.
For a moment neither of us spoke. The rain fell.
The ocean crashed below the cliffs. The photograph sat quietly on the desk.
And I understood. Not completely. But enough.
Enough to see the outline of the wound. Enough to understand why he wore the watch.
Enough to understand why the smile disappeared whenever Angelo's name appeared.
Enough to understand why a man who seemed terrified of losing people might do something completely insane to keep one.
The realization made my stomach twist. Dangerous. Very dangerous. Because sympathy was a slippery slope. I looked away first. Toward the windows. Toward the storm. Anywhere except him.
"My mother died." The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Silence. I froze. Why had I said that? Why? I didn't talk about my mother. Not with strangers. Certainly not with kidnappers. Yet somehow the words had escaped anyway.
The room went very still. Santino looked at me. "I know."
My throat tightened. Of course he knew. He knew everything. The realization should've infuriated me. Instead it just made me tired. I looked out at the ocean. The darkness. The endless rain. I missed her. So badly my chest physically hurt.
My mother. The smell of her perfume. The way she'd braid my hair. The way she'd hum while cooking. The way she'd tell us stories before bed. Gone. The grief arrived so suddenly it stole my breath.
I hated that it happened here. I hated that it happened in front of him. I hated everything. Two people standing in different kinds of ruins. Finally Santino spoke. Very quietly.
"So now you know." I looked over. His gaze drifted toward the photograph. Toward the boys smiling forever from inside the frame. Toward Angelo. "My secret."
I swallowed. Then ruined the moment. Because I was Aurora Ventura. And emotional vulnerability lasted approximately three seconds.
"Your secret is that you're sentimental?” I teased.
His expression flattened. "That wasn't the conclusion."
"It absolutely was. You wear your dead brother's watch,” I snapped. “You built an entire emotional support estate. You kidnapped a bride."
His eyes narrowed. I pointed triumphantly. "Exactly."
A long silence followed. Santino laughed. A real laugh. Deep. Warm. Unexpected. And for one impossible second... The grief disappeared. The Devil disappeared. The kidnapper disappeared. And all I saw was a man laughing at something stupid.
Which might have been the most dangerous thing I'd witnessed all day.
The laugh faded slowly. Not all at once.
Piece by piece. Until the room settled back into quiet.
Rain battered the glass walls. The storm raged beyond the cliffs.
And somehow the space between us felt different now. More dangerous.
Not because we'd argued. Not because we'd stopped arguing. Because for the first time since the cathedral, we'd accidentally been honest. I hated it.
Santino leaned against the desk. Arms folded. Watching me. Always watching me. Then a familiar look appeared in his eyes. My stomach sank. "I know that look."
"You know all my looks now?" he teased.
"I know the annoying ones, so yes,” I said.
"That narrows it down considerably."
I pointed at him. "The smugness is there again."
His mouth twitched. I sighed dramatically. "What's wrong with you?"
"That's a very broad question."
I groaned. Then he pushed away from the desk. Slowly reached into his pocket. And pulled something out.
Nestled in his palm sat a pair of diamond earrings. Breathtakingly beautiful and absurdly expensive. Each one featured a large flawless central diamond surrounded by smaller stones that caught the light like captured stars. They screamed old money danger and obsession all at once.
Santino watched me closely his expression unreadable.
"These were my mother’s," he said voice low and rough. "She wore them the night she married my father. Angelo and I used to fight over who would get to give them to our future wives someday." A ghost of a smile touched his lips but it didn’t reach his eyes. "He lost that argument the day he died."
My throat went dry. "Santino…"
He stepped closer. The storm outside seemed to quiet as the space between us shrank. "I don’t believe in much anymore Aurora. But I believe in giving something that matters to someone who matters."
My heart slammed against my ribs. This wasn’t just a gift. It was a claim. A piece of his fractured past being placed into my hands.
He reached out slow enough that I could pull away if I wanted. I didn’t.
His fingers brushed my hair back from my ear with surprising gentleness.
The rough pads of his fingertips grazed my skin sending a shiver racing straight down my spine.
He leaned in so close I could smell his cologne feel the heat of his body cutting through the chill of the storm.
His breath fanned hot across my neck as he carefully fastened the first earring.
The diamond felt heavy. Cold at first then warming against my skin like it belonged there.
"Beautiful," he murmured more to himself than to me. His thumb traced the shell of my ear lingering. "But they look better on you."
My pulse thundered wildly. I hated how my body reacted to him.
The way liquid heat pooled low in my stomach.
The way my breath grew shallow and needy.
He moved to the other ear even slower this time like he was savoring every second.
His body caged mine against the desk without quite touching me.
Every inch of me was hyper aware of him the hard lines of his chest so close the scent of him wrapping around me like smoke.
When the second earring was secured he didn’t step back. Instead he tilted my chin up with two fingers forcing my eyes to meet his. Dark. Intense. Possessive.
"They suit you," he said voice dropping into that dangerous register that made my knees weak. "Diamonds and defiance. My favorite fucking combination."
I swallowed hard trying to ignore the way my skin burned where he touched me. The way my nipples tightened against my dress. The way I ached for more. "You can’t just… give me something like this."
"I already did." His gaze dropped to my mouth lingering hungrily before returning to my eyes. "And tomorrow when you look in the mirror you’ll see them. You’ll think of me. Just like I think of you every damn second. Every time I close my eyes. Every time my cock gets hard."
The air between us crackled with raw electricity. For one reckless moment I thought he might kiss me. Part of me wanted him to pin me against the desk and take everything.
Instead he finally stepped back giving me space I didn’t want.
Metal glinted beneath the office lights. My eyes narrowed. Keys. Motorcycle keys.
I stared. Then stared harder. Then looked at him. Then back at the keys. My brain struggled to catch up.
"The motorcycle keys are for you,” he said.
"What game are you playing?" I gasped.
His gaze never left mine. "No game."
Liar. Absolute liar. I could practically hear the trap waiting. The problem was that I couldn't see it yet. And somehow that made it worse. Slowly, Santino extended his hand. The keys dangled between us. Silver. Ordinary. Completely impossible. My pulse stumbled.
"Do you know how to drive?”
“Yes,” I whispered, remembering learning on an old bike Papa let me take from our Estate sometimes. I was the only one allowed such freedoms, because I was his favorite. He never let me forget it.
“Take them."
The room went quiet. The storm outside seemed to disappear. Everything narrowed. The keys. His hand. His eyes. I didn't move. Couldn't move. Because there was only one thought running through my head.
Leave. I could leave. The possibility hit me so hard it almost hurt.
My gaze snapped toward the windows. Toward the darkness beyond them. Toward the estate. Then back to him. Suspicion arrived. Violent suspicion.
"You've finally lost your mind,” I said.
"That happened years ago,” he reminded me. “But I’ll tell you more after your first joy ride.”
"There's security everywhere,” I muttered. “And the gates."
"They open,” he shrugged.
"The guards." I raised a suspicious eyebrow. “They’d let me go?”
"They work for me,” he said firmly. “They do as I say.”
I stared. Then stared some more. "What exactly are you saying?"
For the first time all evening, Santino's smile disappeared. Completely. Leaving nothing behind except certainty.
"I'm saying if you want to leave..." His voice dropped. "...leave."
The words hit like a punch. I froze. Because he wasn't joking. Wasn't teasing. Wasn't playing. The realization unsettled me more than any lock ever could. Slowly, carefully, I took the keys. Cold metal settled into my palm. Real. Heavy. Possible. My throat tightened.
"You'd let me go?"
A long silence followed. "I said you have a choice."
Something strange moved through my chest. I hated it. Choices weren't supposed to exist here. Prisons weren't supposed to come with exits. Monsters weren't supposed to hand over keys. The whole situation felt wrong. Dangerously wrong.
I looked down at the keys. Then back at him. "What’s my choice?"
A slow smile returned. There it is. The trap. I knew it. I absolutely knew it. "I want to make another bet."
I closed my eyes. Of course. Of course there was a bet. There was always a bet. When I opened them again, Santino looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"Do I have a choice in the matter?" I hissed.