Chapter 13 #8
And now, possibly, another one beginning.
What have I done?
He rolls off me and gathers me into his arms, pulling my back against his chest, his face buried in my hair. His breathing slows. His heartbeat steadies against my spine.
I should get up, find my dress, call a cab, and get as far away from this man as possible.
But God, it feels good to be held.
I haven’t been held like this since the last time I had sex with Cristiano. I fantasize about what it would be like for him to wrap his big arms around me at the end of a hard day and tell me everything will be okay.
Tonight was stupid. I let Cristiano Montoni fuck me against a window and come inside me without protection, and tomorrow I’ll have to deal with the consequences of that decision.
But tonight isn’t about consequences. Tonight is about what I need.
Tomorrow I’ll take Plan B and go back to being a responsible, careful, protective single mother. I’ll make sure Leon never suffers for his mother’s foolish choices.
For now, I’m going to lie here in Cristiano’s arms and pretend, just for a moment, that this sexy, protective, wealthy man is all mine.
I turn my head to look at him. In the dim light of the penthouse, he looks younger. The hard lines of his jaw have relaxed, and his golden curls are tousled against the pillow. His eyes are half closed, sleepy and satisfied, and there’s a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.
He’s so handsome it hurts.
“Roll over,” I murmur.
He raises an eyebrow but complies, shifting onto his stomach, exposing the broad expanse of his back.
And there they are. The scratch marks.
The inked ones, permanently in his flesh, lines that trace the paths my nails carved five years ago.
And layered over them, fresh and red, are the new marks I left tonight.
I reach out and trace them with my fingertips.
Old and new. Past and present. A permanent record of what we’ve done to each other.
Cristiano groans, low and deep, his face pressing into the pillow.
“I’ve always loved your touch,” he mumbles. “Even when it hurts.”
I keep tracing the lines, watching goose bumps rise on his skin. He’s completely relaxed now. Boneless. Content.
With a shaky breath, I withdraw my hand. I’ve indulged myself enough. It’s time to go.
I slip out of the bed, holding my breath, expecting him to reach for me and pull me back.
But he doesn’t.
He turns his head and watches me through heavy-lidded eyes as I gather my clothes. Rosa’s red dress is crumpled on the floor by the window. I find my heels kicked under a leather sofa.
I dress quickly, acutely aware of his gaze on me the entire time. When I’m finished, I turn to face him.
He’s still lying on his stomach, arms folded beneath his head, looking like a Renaissance painting of a debauched angel. Golden curls. Amber eyes. That satisfied smile.
“You’re letting me go?” The question comes out before I can stop it.
His smile widens, amused. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“I don’t like to assume when it’s you.”
He stretches lazily, muscles rippling beneath his skin. “I know where you live, Mina. I know where you work. I’m your boss. I own vast swathes of this city and the people in it.” His eyes meet mine, warm and terrifying. “You’re never far from me. I can get to you whenever I want.”
A shiver runs down my spine as I turn toward the elevator.
“Wait,” he says, starting to rise. “Let me walk you down. I’ll get you a car.”
“No.” The word comes out sharp. “I’m fine. I can get myself home.”
I’m already moving, my heart pounding. If I let him walk me down, he might change his mind and decide he’s not ready to let me go after all. He might carry me right back to that bed and keep me there until morning.
Part of me wants that.
That’s exactly why I need to leave.
“Mina—”
The elevator doors open, and I step inside.
“Good night, Cristiano.”
The last thing I see before the doors close is his face. Amused, satisfied, and utterly confident that this isn’t goodbye.
The hotel lobby is busy even though it’s nearly eleven at night.
Groups and couples talk and laugh, arriving and departing.
Several staff members move through the space.
I keep my head down, acutely aware of how I must look.
Smudged makeup. Tangled hair. A dress that covers none of the marks Cristiano left on my skin.
I’m halfway to the exit when a man in a dark suit approaches me.
“Miss Santoro?”
I freeze. “Yes?”
“Mr. Montoni’s car is waiting for you.” He gestures toward the fountain outside, where a sleek black vehicle purrs at the curb. “It will take you wherever you need to go.”
I stare at the car. It’s enormous, European, and undoubtedly expensive.
It could be a trap. It could take me nowhere but right back to Cristiano.
But he was so confident that I’ll never be far from him, and he has a point, doesn’t he?
He’s not a desperate, impulsive teenager, and there’s no need for tricks.
I’ve proved myself willing to fall into his bed and let him fuck me without protection.
I bet if I looked up at the penthouse right now I’d see him standing at the window wearing nothing but a triumphant smirk.
God, I’m stupid.
“Thank you,” I hear myself say.
The driver opens the door for me, and I slide inside.
The interior is all cream leather and polished wood, with a minibar built into the console and seats that feel like clouds. I’ve never been in a car like this. I’ve never even seen the inside of a car like this.
This is his world. Wealth and power and luxury beyond anything I can imagine.
The driver pulls away from the curb, and I watch the casino disappear in the rearview mirror.
Rosa is waiting up when I arrive.
She opens the door before I can knock, her face tight with worry that shifts to something else entirely as she takes in my appearance. The tangled hair. The smudged lipstick. The bite marks on my neck that I have nothing to cover with.
“Mina.” She sighs, giving me a weary look. “Danny called about what happened at the restaurant, and I’ve been worried sick. Tell me you didn’t sleep with him.”
I can’t meet her eyes. “It was just tonight. It didn’t mean anything.”
She presses her hand to her forehead. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Mina, if you won’t consider yourself, think of Leon.”
“Tonight was about me.” The words come out sharper than I intend. “About what I need. Leon has nothing to do with it.”
“Leon has everything to do with it! That man is dangerous, Mina.”
“I know what he is.” I push past her into the apartment, keeping my voice low so I don’t wake the kids. “I’ll keep Leon safe. I always have.”
Rosa stares at me for a long moment, her expression caught between anger and fear and something that looks dangerously close to pity.
Finally, she sighs and shakes her head, like I’m so messed up I’m not worth arguing with.
“Leon’s sleeping,” she says. “But he seemed a little under the weather tonight. Tired and cranky. I think he might be coming down with a cold.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” I say. “Thanks for watching him tonight.”
“Mina.” Rosa catches my arm as I pass. “Please. Be careful.”
I don’t answer. I just nod and slip into the room where Leon is sleeping, curled up on a cot mattress on the floor beside his cousins.
He looks so small. So peaceful. His dark curls are spread across the pillow, and his little chest rises and falls with each breath.
My son. My whole world.
I crouch beside him and press a kiss to his forehead. He’s too warm, my poor baby. I’ll give him some Tylenol when we get home if he wakes up.
As I carry him to the car past Rosa’s judgmental eyes, guilt crashes over me like a wave.
The comfort of Cristiano’s body tonight was fleeting. I hope I haven’t made a lasting mistake. One that will affect my son.
I have to protect my son.