Aftermath
ESTELLE
A chilly breeze has me tightening the cardigan around my body. Las Vegas looks gorgeous right now from this height. It’s dark enough for the lights and neon signs to still be on, but too early for anything else.
No noise.
Barely any movement in the streets below.
Just me on the balcony leagues above it all.
The glass door slides open, but I don’t look at Carlos. I feel his body heat against my back before his arms wrap around my waist. A deep sigh tumbles from my lips as I lean into his hard chest.
“Nightmares?” he asks, his warm breath washing over my left ear.
More like near-debilitating PTSD. “Couldn’t sleep. I think I crashed too early.”
“Hmm.” Warmth consumes my earlobe, and he runs the tip of his tongue around the edge. “I can help with that.”
Maybe sex as therapy would help for a while.
“Carlos,” I sigh. “I think we need to talk.”
He stills, his body tensing against my back. Men really don’t like hearing those words.
“I’m listening.” His voice is less raspy and harder—all business.
The city remains silent below, and a few lights start to go out.
“I think we need a break.”
His arms fall from my torso. He comes to stand in front of me, eyes sharp as steel and brows furrowed as he assesses my face.
I don’t know what he sees, but his features soften. There’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before—a kindness or understanding—that tightens my gut.
“I know my world is not what you expected.” His large hand reaches for my face, and his thumb caresses my cheekbone. “It will get better with time, little dove. I promise.”
I step out of his reach without thinking. “You can’t promise anything, Carlos. Not really.”
The hand that was on my face remains frozen mid-air for a second, maybe expecting me to come back.
Carlos doesn’t move, then slowly drops his hand. “Tell me what scares you, Estelle.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “I just want a break.”
He steps closer. “From me?”
I nod, and he watches me, his expression smooth then tender. The lump grows in my throat, and the nod slowly turns into a shake.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper.
I need him to understand. This isn’t my world. Nothing makes sense.
I don’t have the tools to cope.
“Estelle, baby, talk to me. Can’t do what?”
“This isn’t my world. It’s too hard. One day your assistant is having me sign papers in your home, and the next she has a gun pointed to my head and—” the first sob wracks my body “—has kidnapped the people I love.”
He reaches for me. I step out of reach again, ignoring the pained look on his face.
“How many more traitors could there be? How can you trust anyone, Carlos? How can I—”
The ache in my chest and tension in my head are too much to bear. I let the tears fall, refusing to hide my fear anymore.
I want to tell him that nothing and no one is as it seems in his world, and I don’t know how to live that way.
We stay like that for a while.
He silently watches me while I cry, his hands opening and closing at his sides. When the worst of it has passed, I wipe the tears away with the sleeves of my cardigan.
We still don’t talk.
“You can take some time and go wherever you want,” he says finally.
“I want to go home.”
“Elsa and Micah are staying in the pool house, and you can—”
“No.” We stare at each other. “I want to go back to my apartment.”
His jaw clenches. “No.”
“Yes. Carlos, I want—”
“You can’t go back, Estelle.” He steps closer until our toes meet. “There’s no going back.”
“You can’t force me to marry you. To hell with the FBI,” I snap.
I know my words are harsh and unfair; he didn't force me to say yes to his proposal.
He looks away briefly, jaw clenched tight.
“You don’t have to marry me, but there’s no going back to your apartment. Alice knew your address, and we don’t know who else she told. It’s not safe.”
Not safe.
“Will it ever be safe?” I ask.
He dips his head until our eyes are level. “You are safe with me. This is just a time of war, baby. It will pass."
My head shakes. “No. Alice could get to me.”
“That was an oversight—”
“Carlos! Your world isn’t safe.”
His hands hold the sides of my face gently, forcing me to keep looking into his eyes.
“Estelle, my world is not safe, and neither is yours. The world was never safe, baby. Do you understand? I’ve made a small slice of it safer, but it comes with a cost. Loving me comes with a cost.”
My lungs tighten.
My breathing becomes shallow.
Deep green pools stare into my soul, desperate but firm in their message.
He rests his forehead against mine without breaking eye contact. “Do you love me?”
Everything stops for a moment.
The world.
My heart.
My thoughts.
Loving me comes with a cost.
Accepting life in his world is the cost.
Accepting that people will betray him is the cost.
Accepting that I am no longer fully in control is the cost.
I see it now, and I finally understand the war that has been waging inside me since I met him and felt our connection.
Why I ever thought I could just work for a mafia boss like it was just any other job is beyond me.
Why I thought I could love a man like Carlos and live a normal life is so monumentally beyond me.
“I do love you,” I whisper.
But I don’t know if I’m strong enough to pay the cost.
“Then stay.” His voice is deep. Vulnerable.
Then stay.
Then stay.
Then stay.
I step out of his hold, and swallow hard. My throat is paper dry.
“It’s not that simple,” I choke out, my heart clenching with every word.
Turning my back to him is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I slide open the glass door.
“But it is,” he says softly.
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