I tiptoe out of Elio’s room, careful not to wake my little prince. We had a very busy day, and the little guy is all tuckered out. Stopping in the doorway, I turn and stare at him. He’s so precious. I’ve only been in his life for ten days, but I already love him so much. Quietly closing the door, I head along the hallway and back to the kitchen to clean up. Cristian didn’t join us for dinner tonight. He’s out, and he said he’d be late. He didn’t mention whether he had eaten or not, so I plate the leftover lasagna and cover it with Saran Wrap in case he wants to reheat it later.
It was my first attempt at making it, following the recipe in the cookbook Natalia gave me. The sauce is a little watery, but the flavors are good. Elio seemed to like it anyway.
After I clean the kitchen, I walk toward my bedroom, like usual, but think better of it. While I have my own TV, I’m sick of looking at the four walls in there and I’m not in the mood to sketch tonight. Grabbing an unopened bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and a wineglass from the cupboard, I head into the living room and get settled on the couch.
Kicking my slides off, I snag a blanket from the back of the plush leather sectional and position myself in the corner with a large soft cushion at my back. I pour a large measure of wine into my wineglass and sink into the couch with the blanket covering my lower half.
I flick through the movie options and choose Goodfellas. It came out way before I was born, and I’ve never seen it. I don’t know if Italian mafia movies are anything like real life, but at least I’ll get to watch a few villains slaughtered in cold blood, and I can imagine it’s Diego, Alvaro, and Pablo getting their just desserts.
Knots twist in my gut, and bile crawls up my throat like every time I think of Sunday. I’ve been really struggling to keep it together this week, hiding from Cristian every night because I don’t trust I won’t crack in front of him. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t expel the scene from replaying repeatedly in my mind. It’s a miracle I lasted the journey home without breaking down in front of John Angelo. I spent way too long in the shower that night, trying to scrub Diego’s disgusting dried-in cum from my chest and using the water to shield my cries. Retching repeatedly didn’t soothe my pain either knowing Alvaro’s vile seed was already deeply embedded in my stomach. At least they didn’t strip me down below or force themselves inside my vagina. That is something to be grateful for.
A strangled sound rips from my mouth unbidden as the movie starts. Is this what my life has come to? Being grateful to monsters for not assaulting me in worse ways? Memories of the beating Mom was subjected to because of my failure resurrect in my mind to add to my agony. He’s going to kill her, and it will be all my fault.
Draining half my wine in one go, I wish it would anesthetize me. I want someone to remove my brain and scrub it free of all the hideous memories that keep me up at night.
I’ve taken the melatonin Cristian bought me at bedtime, but it isn’t helping. I still can’t sleep, and I’m running on fumes. I have forced food down my throat each day purely because I need to eat to keep my strength, but it’s challenging when all I want to do is give up. I want to crawl into a black hole, cover myself in a blanket, and block out all the light. I want to retreat inward and numb myself to everything.
But I don’t get to be that selfish.
Mom is counting on me, and I can’t ever forget that.
Wrapping the blanket fully around me, I drink my wine and try to concentrate on the movie. It’s good, and eventually it sucks me in, and I forget reality and lose myself in the violent world exploding on the screen. I’m so immersed I don’t hear Cristian walking toward me until it’s too late.
“Good choice,” he says, and I jump about ten feet in the air, spilling the dregs of my wine over myself and the couch. Good thing it’s leather and it’ll wipe off easily.
“Oh my god, Cristian!” I shriek. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Shit, sorry. I thought you heard me come in.” His gaze lands on my chest, where the wine has made the material almost see-through.
“I’ll get out of your way.” Putting my glass down, I swing my feet onto the floor.
“Come back after you change,” he says, meeting my eyes. “I haven’t watched this movie in years, and I could do with a drink.”
“Sure, okay.” I leave the room and return to my bedroom, removing my wet shirt and wiping the sticky layer clinging to my chest. I’m lost in thought as I fix myself up. One good thing about moping all week is I’ve decided the best strategy with Cristian is to just be myself. Well, as much of myself as I can risk being. I know he’s attracted to me, and I pray he’ll cave at some point. He said we could be friends, so I’ll be his best friend and let things develop more naturally. I don’t know if I can make him fall for me in a month, but deliberately trying to seduce him won’t work, so this is all I’ve got.
I hope it’s enough.
After changing, I return to the living room.
“I got you a fresh wineglass,” he says, pointing to it on the table as I walk toward him. “I also paused the movie, so you didn’t miss anything.”
“We can go back to the start if you want,” I suggest, eyeing the glass of wine with apprehension. I should probably take it easy. I’ve already had a large glass, and I’m afraid my tongue will loosen and I’ll say something I shouldn’t if I drink much more.
“Nah. I’m good. I watched this movie a lot with the twins when we were kids.”
I settle back into my corner, and Cristian hands me a different blanket. “The other one is a bit wet.”
“Sorry.” Accepting the blanket, I unfold it over my legs.
“What for? I’m the one who startled you and caused you to spill your wine. It’s no biggie. Mrs. Peake will send it out to the dry cleaners.”
“She’s a really sweet lady,” I say, taking a small sip of my wine. “She’s been very kind to me.”
“She used to work for my parents, but she came to work for me when I bought this place ten years ago. In a lot of ways, she’s been like a second mother to me.”
“She speaks very highly of you. It’s obvious she loves you like a son.”
“The feeling is mutual. As much as I don’t want to be without her, I’ve been encouraging her to retire for a couple years now,” he admits, lifting the wineglass to his lips.
I watch his throat bob as he swallows, and there is something so incredibly sexy about it. The layer of stubble on his chin and cheeks is a little thicker than usual, and it really suits him. Visions of running my fingers through the soft bristles dance through my mind, and lust stirs deep in my belly. It’s been a long time since I’ve been turned on by a man, and it’s good to know I haven’t been completely ruined by recent experiences.
A longing for Cristian to hold me coasts over me. His arms offer security, warmth, and strength, and I pine for it. I’ve been extra vulnerable since Sunday, and I wish I could crawl into his lap and let him comfort me.
“I can’t imagine that went down well.” I run the tip of my finger over the rim of my glass. “I get the feeling she loves looking after you and Elio. She told me her husband died years ago, and she didn’t have a family of her own. I imagine her identity is fully tied up with her work here.”
“You’re not wrong, which is why I haven’t pushed it. But I worry about her health. She has worked hard her entire life, and she should be enjoying herself now.”
“She enjoys taking care of you. That’s all she needs,” I say, because it’s blatantly obvious. As is the way Cristian cares for her. She told me he bought her a bungalow with a massive garden a few years ago, and he pays for a car and driver to take her anywhere she needs to go. “Will she be coming to the new house?”
He nods. “I’m building her a self-contained apartment within the house, too, but I haven’t given up hope she might use the opportunity to retire or at least cut back to one day a week.” He swirls wine in his glass. “Ultimately, it will be her choice.” He shrugs before taking another mouthful of wine.
“I thought you were staying out late tonight.” I pull my knees into my chest.
“I changed my mind.” He scrubs a hand along his chin as his gorgeous green eyes stab into mine.
Electricity charges the air, and he can’t not feel it. The chemistry is potent between us. There’s an intensity to it I’ve never experienced before. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he finally tears his gaze from mine. “What made you choose this movie?” he asks, focusing on the paused image on the screen.
“I’m not sure. I wanted something with action or suspense, and this caught my eye.” It’s not exactly a lie, but it’s not the full truth either. I hope my choice of movie hasn’t triggered any suspicion in his mind. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a smart decision.
“You don’t like romantic movies?” He moves a little closer.
“I do, but I have to be in the right mood.”
His lips kick up at the corners. “And tonight, you’re in more of a murderous mood?” he teases.
“Something like that.” I take a gulp of wine, hoping he drops the subject. Thankfully, he does.
“Let’s get to it then.” He presses the play button, ending our conversation.
Gradually, we move closer and closer until we’re sitting side by side. “Damn, that’s vicious,” I say at a particularly gruesome part.
“Does it disturb you?” His inquiring gaze flicks to mine.
“The scene or the fact it happens in real life?” I risk asking.
“You think this happens in real life?” His eyes are subtly probing, and I’m conscious of just how close we are.
“You don’t?” I volley back.
“I know there are plenty of evils in this world. Unfortunately.” His eyes dip to my mouth for a nanosecond.
“Unfortunately, I know that too.”
His brow puckers. “Did something happen to you?”
I want to tell him everything. But I can’t risk it. He has a rat in his midst, and I don’t know who it is or how much access they have. I wonder if they are being blackmailed by the cartel too. “Something doesn’t need to have happened to know about the evils in this world. I’ve watched my fair share of documentaries. Heard stories at college. A girl at my high school was murdered by a sick pervert when I was a junior. Mom tried to raise me to be aware of the world around me, both positive and negative.”
If only I’d been more aware when it counted.
“Your mom sounds amazing.”
“She is.” I almost choke on my wine. “I mean, she was.”
Compassion floods his face.
“Sometimes, I forget she’s not here anymore,” I add.
“I can’t imagine how tough it must be. It sounds like you and your mother had a very close relationship.” He leans forward to grab the wine bottle, and a whiff of perfume tickles my nostrils.
My stomach lurches, and I gulp over the lump that appears in my throat. He was out with a woman tonight. It hurts more than it should, and not for all the right reasons either.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, stalling with the bottle in his hand.
“Nothing,” I croak before clearing my throat. “Just thinking about Mom.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my relationship with my son since you came into our lives. I shudder to think what it’d do to him to lose me so young. It makes me more determined to always be around for Elio.”
Guilt shreds my insides at his words.
Cristian refills his wineglass before moving the bottle toward mine. There isn’t much wine left, but I know when I’ve reached my limit. Slapping my hand over the top of the glass, I shake my head. “You finish it. I won’t be in a fit state to watch your son tomorrow if I drink more.”
“You’re good with him, Sloane. Thank you.”
“Please don’t thank me.” He’d be sick if he knew the truth. “Taking care of Elio doesn’t even feel like a job. I love being with him,” I say with sincerity.
A loud pop on the screen interrupts our conversation, and the movie reclaims our attention. Tommy falls forward with a bullet hole in the side of his head.
“He had it coming,” Cristian says. “He was too much of a loose cannon, and he didn’t abide by omertá.”
“Omertá?” My brows lift.
“It’s a code of silence and a code of honor within the Italian mafia. Tommy was never going to be initiated.”
“Sounds like you know your mafia movies.”
His eyes bore into mine. “Something like that.”
I don’t know if it’s smart to pursue this conversation, but I don’t have time to play it safe. “Do you know how to use a gun?” I ask.
Shrewd eyes examine my face. “Why do you ask?”
I shrug casually. “You’ve spoken about having enemies, and you have a top-notch security system with armed bodyguards.”
“You caught that?”
“I’m not naïve, Cristian. I don’t need to see the guns to know your guys carry them.”
His knee brushes against mine. “Does it bother you?”
I vigorously shake my head as my eyes latch onto his lips. He has a gorgeous mouth, and I bet he knows what to do with it. Shivers cascade over my body at the thought of Cristian’s mouth all over me.
“Sloane?” Cristian snaps me out of it, and I realize I’ve been staring at his mouth like a lovesick fool.
My cheeks heat in embarrassment. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s the opposite, in fact. I feel safe knowing I’m protected.”
He nods slowly. “New York is a dangerous city, and yes, I have a gun, and I know how to use it. My father took me to the shooting range from a young age.”
“How young were you, and will you do the same with Elio?”
“I was six, and yes.”
“Wow, that’s super young.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs, knocking back the last of his wine.
This could backfire, but I’ve got to ask it. “Will you teach me? I want to know how to use a gun.”
