Under the Influence: A Second Chance Mafia Romance by Nikki Belaire (3)

Damn.

Embarrassing how fucking slow I am picking her lock. Which I can’t believe she fucking changed. Like she actually thought installing a new deadbolt could really keep me away from her.

I step inside and flip the switch, flooding the narrow living room in soft light from the bronze and glass lamp that she bought when I took her to Costa Rica. An impromptu trip to tie up loose ends with one of our best suppliers that ended up turning into the best fucking vacation of my life. Because of her.

Not much has changed. Still neat and tidy like always. All four walls lined with black shelves. Cheap plywood straining from the weight of her treasured books. I draw in a deep breath filled with her essence. Soft roses and sweet honeysuckle. Not the old lady grandma kind of perfume. But an intoxicating scent flowing with happiness and sunshine and joy.

Like a fucking stalker, I wander around her freezing apartment. That I was going to move her out of and into my place. That I was going to make her leave this dump behind and make her mine. With my ring. My name. My baby. I was going to do a lot of fucking things. Until motherfucking Savage ruined my plans for her. For us.

The tiny kitchen remains spotless as usual. Nothing on the butcher block counter top except for two slender flutes. Pissing me off more than I can fucking stand. What the fuck is she celebrating? And with whom? Better not be with that pussy ass motherfucker.

Proof of my suspicion sits on the bottom shelf of her refrigerator. A tall green bottle nestles between a bowl heaped with chocolate covered strawberries and a blue checked platter of almonds, olives, and thinly sliced Gouda cheese. Son of a fucking bitch.

I fucking know exactly what she intended. An indoor picnic in front of the huge stone fireplace filling the corner of her bedroom. Just like I use to enjoy with her when I'd end up here after a long, shitty day. When all it took to instantly eliminate my bad mood was her sweet smile and the gentle touch of her fingers brushing my cheek. Welcoming me into her humble home. Into her enormous heart. Giving me everything she has. Sharing with me all that she is.

Fuck that bastard. He cannot have her. He will not have her. Not her generosity. Not her body. Not her love.

I jerk open the back door and hurl the chilled champagne to the concrete below. The clang of the thick glass bangs against the metal steps as the bottle tumbles down, echoing in the empty breezeway. Relishing the shards ricocheting off the ancient silver patio furniture circling the small fire pit where we relaxed during cool spring evenings. Nights I thought would never end. Contentment that I never thought I would have to give up.

Fury pulses in my veins as I stride to the bedroom. Ready to destroy any candles she has set out for that asshole too. The words curling across the mirror in her delicate handwriting destroy me instead.

Fuck me. She's lived a fucking lifetime in the six months we've been apart. And I've missed every god damn fucking minute of it. Missed every god damn fucking minute with her.

The only goal unchecked on her list is the one that infuriates me the most. I don’t know what the fuck she’s thinking about agreeing to, but I sure as hell won’t let that happen. This may be my fucking fault. I may have driven her to considering a request from him. But I'll make damn sure I'm not the reason she finally says yes.

My buzzing phone interrupts my more-than-deserved self-diatribe, and I yank the cell out of my pocket. Tucker's update fills the top half of the screen.

Heading to her place. Be there in twenty.

Good.

A sharp creak shrieks under the mattress from me sinking down to wait. The squeak always making her giggle before I fucked her deep and hard the way she loves. Just like I was going to do that night after I proposed to her. And never got the fucking chance to do either one.

My gaze automatically drifts to the thin streak darkening the natural hardwood. So slight you wouldn't notice the stain unless you knew about it. But, I know. Because we put it there. From the first night I took her.

Evidence of her innocence seeping through the blankets we were sprawled across. Her gorgeous body so fucking beautiful with shadows from the golden flames dancing over her flawless skin. Almost as amazing as the trust in her eyes every moment I was inside her. Never hesitating, physically or emotionally, to let me in.

Now I’m finally here again. Alone, and for the first time ever, insecure. So fucking unsure of myself. Uncertain if I can get back what we had before.

She leans forward, a sultry laugh filling the electric air between us. Her palms playfully resting on my thighs. Mere inches from my greedy cock. Her dress drooping from her silky skin, giving me an unintentional peek at her chaste pink bra, overflowing with gorgeous tits I can already taste. Salivating from the thought of her luscious nipples filling my mouth.

Reminding me once again what a fucking lucky bastard I am. She’s so fucking beautiful. Smart. Driven. And still hard to believe untouched by any man except me. Which is hotter than hell. I’d have given up my fortune to be the man to steal her virginity. Yet I never had to seduce her. She gave her body to me without hesitation. Just like her heart.

“I was so nervous, but it seemed to go really well. We talked for almost two hours. He said that I could work part-time around my classes now and then when I graduate, I would be full time.”

Pride pounds in my chest from her success. Landing her dream job. That I didn’t even have to threaten anyone to get for her. “Congratulations, Books. I knew you could do it.”

A sweet blush brightens her flushed face, and she ducks under my gaze. Always so damn modest when I compliment her. Like the demure lady she was raised to be.

“Thank you.”

Her attention drifts to the two girls in the booth next to us. Kissing, stroking, and whispering with each other. Putting on more of a performance than the ladies suspended above the dance floor in their cages. Exhibitionists eager to shock everyone with their wanton display. Maybe even entice them enough to join in.

Chryseis smiles and winks at me. So fucking adorable. “You’re missing out on quite the show over there. I can change seats with you if you want.”

Instead, I caress the smooth line of her slender shoulder, brushing my lips down her delicate throat. Savoring the slight shiver under my tongue. Ready to get her out of my club and into my bed. “Nah Books. The only show I want to see is yours.”

Cherry circles dot her cheeks again, but before she can respond, Tucker steps from the shadows. The pulsing lights, flickering in tandem with the thumping beat vibrating through the cavernous space, amplifies the rage lining his face. A death grip on his phone as he pounds against the screen. Damn it. No words necessary with the fury clenching his body. The hunch we had earlier must be correct.

All the excitement as well as the color drains from Chryseis’ face. She infers the implication from the tension radiating between us, and stands up. Slipping from her seat without even remembering to kiss my cheek in her apprehension. Eager to escape, lest she hears the upsetting details he reports. Which is unnecessary because I would never expose her to the realities of my ruthless world anyway.

“I’m going to go to the ladies room…”

I nod for Sharp and Paxton to accompany her. No one would dare fuck with her here. Everyone well aware the death sentence that even speaking to her would invoke. But I’m not willing to take any chances. Especially with the update I suspect Tucker’s about to give me.

As soon as she hits the bottom step of the white marble staircase leading down from the balcony, he tosses the cell onto the table. Narrowly missing her ginger ale in his frustration. “Savage attacked Randich. It was a fucking massacre.”

Closer and closer this damn bastard gets to my territory. My fucking city. Cutting an enormous swath of viciousness harsher than anyone has attempted in a very long time. I knew he was gunning for Randich, but being correct garners no satisfaction. “It’s not our fault that cock sucker wouldn’t listen. Stupid motherfucker was too damn arrogant. Savage didn’t get his name from fucking hosting cocktail parties.”

“Fuck!”

Tucker pops the huge knuckles on his right hand before moving to the clenched fingers on his left. More furious than I’ve ever seen him. My stomach turns from what he hasn’t relayed yet. Well aware that I don’t want to fucking know. But I have no choice. “What?”

“They got to his wife.”

Motherfuckers. Both of them. Savage for attacking her, and Randich for allowing him to get close enough to touch her in the first place.

“Tortured, raped, and killed her with him watching the entire time.” His head shakes as his lip curls in more disgust. “Then they got his daughter.”

He barely whispers, but I can still hear the almost unspeakable words amidst the deafening music. Still feel the fury raging in his tone. God fucking damn sadistic bastard. She’s only fucking twelve years old. A child.

“He’s coming for you Gio. He wants this..." His arms spread wide, conveying the power and the wealth my status as king of the night represents. "...and he’s not going to stop until he starts a damn war.”

Fuck that. Adrenaline burns through me. My body already buzzing from the anticipation of taking this motherfucker out. “Then we’ll give him one. Tonight.”

The perfect time to attack. He’ll still be celebrating his triumph. Defenses low thinking everyone’s running scared. Except for me. I don’t fucking run. And, I’m never fucking scared.

“What about Chryseis?”

God fucking damn it. Except about her. My confidence instantly dissipates.

"When Ramon hacked their server he found the files Savage has on her. He's got photos of the two of you together, her class schedule, lists of her co-workers and professors, Sheena’s address..."

Stupid. I'm so god damn unbelievably fucking stupid. To think I could have her without exposing her to any danger. Love her without any threats against her. I knew better. I knew fucking better. And being the greedy fucking bastard I am, I still took her anyway.

"There was also a download from the DMV with her doctoral advisor’s vehicle information.” Incredulity drips from his tone, mimicking the suspicion rocketing through me. "It was dated two days before Dr. Coy got ran off the road."

Son of a bitch. “It wasn’t an accident.”

I know the answer before he shakes his head. Savage fucking loves torturing his targets before he actually attacks. Sneaking closer and closer, hurting those closest to you one-by-one until you realize he's after you. Too many assaults to be a coincidence. Fucking psycho serial killer mentality. Despite practically ruling the world, I don't have the manpower to protect them all and bring down Savage at the same time.

“Do you want me to put her in a safe house until this is over?”

Not sure if there really is such a thing with a beast like Savage. He won’t quit until he’s dead. Hopefully, that will be soon. But what if it’s not? Rare self-doubt coils through me. If I fail, he’ll still come after her. She’ll be the gorgeous reward for his victory. The ultimate prize to celebrate his success. If I succeed, I'll still have to hide her away to keep her safe.

Fuck me for being a dumbass. She won’t ever be free. Won’t start her new job. Or buy the little house she’s been pinning shit about on that idea website she likes. Or travel to all the cities on her list.

Because of me.

Because of this vicious life I so selfishly drug her into.

“Let me see the photo.”

Tucker blows out a deep breath. Not that I don’t fucking believe him. But I have to see the sickening proof. Force myself to face the brutality. Make myself accept the harsh reality. Because this could be Chryseis. This could be my Books. Raped. Beaten. Dead.

He holds up the cell, and I gag at the image. My gut rolling from the depravity.

Although I can't see Randich's face from the angle of the shot, with the absence of the back of his skull I can pretty much imagine the damage to the front of his body. Wrists sliced to the bone from the wire restraints binding him to the metal pole. Rivers of crimson pooling from his hands and feet, trailing toward the bodies sprawled on the drenched concrete. Almost unrecognizable from the swelling. Impossible to tell the difference between the mother and the daughter. But, the abuse inflicted between their legs is more than fucking clear. Sick fucking psycho.

I stare at the image until my eyes water. Burning the details into my brain so I can recall the savagery anytime I’m weak. Branding the horror into my psyche to remember anytime my resolve begins to wane.

Fucking ironic how I always swore I would never be in this weak ass position. Young and dumb, beating and killing my way to the top, because I wanted more. I wanted all of it. Tired of being poor and hungry and weak. I could fucking taste the power and wealth just as surely as I could the champagne and lobster we stuffed ourselves with once I thought I owned the fucking world.

Once my Mom died, I didn’t need anyone or anything. Tucker stuck around even though he probably shouldn’t have. We both missed the chance to have normal lives with wives instead of fuck buddies. Suburbs and yards instead of penthouses and armed guards. Cookouts and football games instead of beat downs and hired hit men. All I ever thought I wanted and now I hate. Because I can’t have her.

Never wishing more that the glass was a bottle, I swallow down the last of my drink and gesture toward the spectacle next to us. Wincing from the blond in the purple halter shoving her tongue down the redhead's throat while her small hand caresses the white cotton stretched taut across her huge, fake tits. "Invite them to join me in my office."

"Gio?"

For the first time ever Tucker hesitates. Never before defying my order. Until now. Well aware how fucked up crazy I am over Chryseis. Also, cognizant of the fact that there are two things I never do to women. Hit them or cheat them. I still refuse to do either one, but she won't believe that after tonight. "The only way she can be happy is to let her go."

He nods. Slow and contrite. His remorse almost as devastating as mine. Beyond fucking grateful he doesn’t argue because I'm not sure if I could convince him when I’m barely able to convince myself. Just grabs his phone and strides off while I motion to Zach for another drink. The heat of the now stifling bar no match for the torment already blazing in my stomach.

Both girls giggle but hop up quickly from Tucker's request. One on each side, snuggling against him as he guides them through the hall, supporting them as they stumble down the back stairs before disappearing from sight.

Just like I fucking want to. Grab Books and haul ass out of here. Take her home and fuck her until I can't remember what I was worried about. I force myself to stand up too. Neither of us lucky enough to earn that luxury.

Ignoring everyone else vying for my attention, I stride to my most trusted bartender as he lifts up my freshly poured whiskey. Good employee but I know he's a dirty motherfucker and won't refuse my request. Not from fear, which he probably is a little scared, because hell, it is me. But because he's the biggest man whore I know. Catching him more than once fucking the dancers in the store room after hours. Didn’t give a damn who saw him.

"Anything else Mr. T?"

I nod, and he grabs his pad of paper. Ready to satisfy my request regardless of what I demand. Unaware it's actually his lucky day. Christmas comes early for him this year. "You know those girls who were practically fucking each other next to me?"

His head bobs, and his hand clenches tighter around the pencil. Probably forcing himself to keep his fingers from curling around his hardening cock. "Yeah sure. Who could miss them?"

A smug and cocky smirk curls my lips. Not betraying the shit ass guilt killing me inside. "They're looking to party, but I got something I've got to do first so I was hoping you could keep them company for me. You interested?"

Desire battles with confusion on his face. His thumb stroking over the stud in his lip trying to figure out why I'd pass on such a spectacular opportunity. Or maybe wondering why I'd even consider a ménage when I have a woman like Chryseis on my arm. My chest pulls tighter. The other part of my asshole plan to broadcast she's not mine anymore. And pretend I'm fucking thrilled about her departure.

He finally smiles. The realization sinking in his thick head from the fucking amazing gift I’m giving him. That he’d be a complete and total dumb ass not to accept. "Yeah definitely, man. I’m in."

Thank fuck. As easy as I hoped. "Then come on to my office."

"Yes sir."

Leaving him for a moment to settle up with his co-workers from his new order from the boss, I stride through the crowd and down the stairs. Each fucking step closer ensuring her devastation and my crucifixion.

Tucker's deep voice vibrates from the other side of the heavy, wooden door. Murmurs of soft feminine words I can't decipher blend with his. Breathy with nervous anticipation. That fall silent when I step inside.

The aggressive blond, with half her ass hanging out of her lavender booty shorts, sashays up to me. Tugging my tie with a confident smirk that does exactly nothing for me or my bored dick. But I lie for both of us. “Do you want to play, baby girl?”

An excited shudder jolts her body. She leans closer, brushing torpedoed nipples against my chest. Engulfing me with a heavy dousing of spicy perfume. “I want to do anything you want me to Daddy.”

Jesus. Only a slight slur to her answer. Drunk and high. Perfect since she’ll be less likely to argue when she finds out it won’t be me fucking her.

“I like to watch.” I gesture to the girl in the zebra dress, swaying next to my desk. Floating even higher than her bestie. “Why don’t you let me see how fucked up the two of you really can be?”

Her glassy eyes light up. Huge pupils dilating even more. “Yes sir.”

Only a few inches shorter than me, she lifts on her tiptoes. Strange overly-plump lips hovering too close to mine. I refuse to let this scheme get that far. Instead, I spin her around and growl in her ear. “Show me first.”

Earning me another convulsion and ass grind against my disinterested cock before she strides to the girl already leaning backward, shoving the papers off the smooth glass top. The sheets billowing like feathers before slowly drifting to the carpet.

“Open for me, baby.”

Guess we know who the boss is in their relationship. The auburn-haired girl eagerly follows the command and sprawls out completely. Already jerking aside her panties and moaning as she fingers herself in anticipation while her platinum friend caresses her thighs.

Unbelievable. I've got fucking porn live in my office. Most men would be in fucking heaven. When all I want is the woman I no longer can have.

“Fuuuuuck....”

Zach’s shocked tone blows out behind me. Perfect. I twist around and wink at him. “You’re welcome.”

All he can do is nod. Unable to tear his greedy eyes away from the girl writhing in ecstasy from being eaten out only ten feet in front of him. “She’s all yours.”

Without a word he somehow manages to walk, yank a condom out of his back pocket, and unbuckle his belt. Caressing over her hips, he accepts her hand flying backward and grabbing his cock as approval to proceed. In a few short seconds, he’s wrapped and thrusting. He fucks blondie, while she fucks red. I catch Tucker’s disgusted expression above the orgy. What in the actual fuck? People really are filthy.

My gut churns from the knock in the hallway. Time for the real performance to begin. I suck in a deep breath. Please forgive me, angel.

I slide open the door, keeping the gap narrow. Pretending to try and block Chryseis’ view. Scarlet races up her neck to her forehead as she takes in the orgy playing out behind us.

“Gio?”

More of my soul dies from her astonished whisper. But I play the part so god damn well I’ll win a fucking Oscar. Slowly gliding to her with a playful smile on my lips. “Something’s come up babe. Tucker’s going to take you home.”

I meet her confused gaze. My phony term of endearment and brusque tone triggering even more worry on her beautiful face.

“What’s going on?”

I love you and hurting you is fucking killing me. “Nothing. I’ve just got something I have to take care of.”

Tucker clicks the knob, shutting out the smacking skin and sloppy sucking noises. Fucking relief of silence until Chryseis murmurs again.

"I don't..." She’s not blind or stupid. Just shocked. “I don’t understand. I–”

“Nothing to understand except that you’re leaving, okay?”

I don’t ever talk to her like this. Never speaking to her like she means nothing to me. As if she's a fucking annoyance rather than the only person who brings goodness into my world. Happiness into my life.

Appalled by all of our behavior although not enough to keep her from fighting back, she attempts to twist away from my tight grip on her bicep, the small muscle trembling under my fingers.

“What’s really going on?” She glances back over her shoulder as I try to steer her down the corridor. “That’s not you. You’re not…”

"Not what?" I force irritation into my voice. Showing her the asshole I've been hiding from her all along. "Damn Chryseis. How the fuck do you know what I am? We date for a few months, and now you think you're a fucking expert on me or something?"

Outrage from my cruel words stiffens her body. Small fingers clenching as she studies me. Penetrating the blackness engulfing my heart with her intense gaze. That breaks with every breath she pants in shame.

Unable to keep quiet, I berate her more. Fearful I'll cave in the silence. That I'll utter the words I really want to say instead of the bullshit I'm forced to utter.

"You hearing this Tuck?" Snickering at him while he leans against the wall. Casual and unconcerned. "I let her suck my dick a few times and now she thinks she knows me."

His humorless chuckle answers me back. Which is good because I'd be furious if he ganged up on her too. As stupid fucked up as I am over losing her, I'd still have to defend my girl.

Seconds pass in stillness except for the faint thudding of the bass from upstairs. But the beat has nothing on the pounding of my head and chest. Witnessing her struggle not to break. To not crumble under the abuse I dole out.

The lines on her forehead finally smooth with a realization and her quivering lips part. "Is this charade because I invited you to my cousin's wedding? You think I'm pressuring you for a commitment already?"

My Books. So eloquent and well-spoken despite her mortification. I cup the tiny box in my pocket. There's nothing I want more than to make her mine. But, yeah, let's go with that. If that's her rationale for my irrational behavior, I won't dispute the accuracy of her assumption. "You're suffocating me babe. I mean you think I want to spend a weekend with your family? Or fucking have dinner with your parents all the time? I don't need that shit." I lean closer. Near enough to see the tears glistening on her thick lashes. "I don't want that shit. Especially with a woman like you."

Humiliation drowns her indignation, and her body droops. Now my insults are personal. It's not me. It's her.

"What's that supposed to mean? A woman like me?"

“You're a fucking librarian. Excited about getting a job at a fucking library for fuck's sake. Big deal it's with a university. Fucking pathetic how lame that is. I need more than that. I need more than you.”

Too stunned to speak, she doesn't react. Doesn’t do anything but cover her gasping mouth with trembling hands. So I take matters into mine. Because I can't do this anymore. I can't degrade her any longer.

Abrupt and impatient, I guide her through the club. Taking the long way up the stairs and across the jammed dance floor. Bodies parting from my purposeful steps. Garnering attention from the watery trails streaming down her beautiful face and dropping off her chin. Letting everyone witness the spectacle of me dumping her.

Once outside, we bypass the cab line of course, and I steer her to the front. A parade of embarrassment for everyone to watch. Whisper about. Immortalize with the phones popping up and tracking our path. I’m as fucking popular as fucking Justin Bieber.

“Gio? Please? Tell me what's really going on?”

One last plea as the valet pulls open the yellow door, and I usher her inside. Her gaze never leaving mine while she drops into the backseat. Seeking to comprehend something that she never expected. Or deserved. “It was a great ride babe. But it’s over now.”

With a smug ass smirk, I yank out my wallet and dig through the bills, tossing a few hundreds to the driver. “Take her anywhere she wants to go.” I wink like the bastard I am. “Except my place.”

Stepping onto the sidewalk, I laugh. Loud and harsh and obnoxious. I nod to my bouncer, who joins in amusement he doesn’t understand but appreciates just the same. Too fearful to respond any other way except in support of my bastard antics.

“Good one Mr. Trivoli.”

I pat his thick shoulder and stride back inside, never glancing back. A big, fat, stupid, fake smile slapped on my face. Alone. Happy. Relaxed. Head bobs and chest thumps to all the witnesses. Pretending to be thrilled I'm finally free of her. Only surviving by consoling myself that she's finally free of the danger I put her in.

I also need to be free of my sobriety. Unable to deal with the crowd at the bar, I head straight toward my office for my personal stash. I need my best tequila. Lots of it. Especially when her gorgeous face flashes on my phone. I decline the call, my head bowing as I wait for the inevitable voice mail. My girl's...Fuck me. Better keep up the act. Outward and inward. My ex is resilient.

My eyes blink open when the sharp tone dings, and I tap the button, pressing the screen to my ear.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this..."

Because I'd rather be dead than let anything happen to you.

"Can we please talk? I have something I need to tell you. I don't want us to end like–”

Delete. I can't listen anymore. Can't take the bravado she's forcing in her tone like her heart isn't shattered. Can't handle the crack in her voice on the last two words.

God fucking damn it. Agony radiates up my arm from my fist connecting with the drywall. I punch and punch until blood gushes from my knuckles. Until sweat stings my eyes. Until my best friend jerks my arm and slams me against the crumbled plaster. His forearm shoved into my throat. Furious eyes meeting mine.

"Enough!"

He cares even though he shouldn't. About my head. My hand. My plot. He hates my act as much as I fucking do, but if there's any hint I'm upset about breaking up with her, the whole scam is worthless.

I nod, defeated and spent, and let him drag my stupid ass into my now thankfully empty office. Only the musky scent of the earlier activities lingering in the blistering hot air.

Choosing the sofa instead of my desk chair, I collapse onto the leather cushion. Unable to get the bottle he hands me to my mouth fast enough. Gulping the honey liquid like the booze is fucking oxygen.

"You did the right thing."

Tucker finally pulls the rim of his whiskey away from his own lips. One of us has to be the sane one. Luckily that's always been him. No point in fucking up a successful system that's kept us alive this long

"Yeah."

Twenty minutes pass before a text comes through. Which needs to be the last message she sends me because my willpower is fucking shot.

“I’m sorry if I said or did something to hurt you. I love you and want to figure this out.”

Fuck me. My throbbing fingers squeeze the bridge of my nose. The aching in my fists nothing compared to the torture burning in my chest. I type slow. Fucking killing me to hurt her so viciously. But I have no fucking choice. I have to end this. Absolute and complete.

“Nothing to figure out, babe. You’re just too boring.”

Of course, I never heard from her again. After I got the most wasted I’ve ever been, Tucker ushered me back to my booth, where I spent the rest of the night drinking with a parade of nameless, faceless women. Until the sun rose, and we made a huge production of loading three of them into my SUV for a ride straight to their own doorsteps rather than mine.

We battled Savage for the next five days. My head pounding and stomach lurching during the first twenty-four hours from the alcohol and guilt poisoning me. Finally killing the bastard with the same barbarity he exacted upon his victims. With absolutely zero fucks and absolutely zero enjoyment. The revenge unable to alleviate any of my misery from causing hers.

The frame squeals again when I push off the mattress and stride to the living room. Eager to see her stunning face. Hopefully get the chance to redeem myself and somehow find a way to put a smile back on her soft, lush lips.

A giggle bounces from the hallway. Her giggle. Fuck. I've missed her laugh. I've missed being the man to generate her happiness. I’ve missed her.

"You're so nice. I bet you even say you’re sorry when you cut people's heads off."

Tucker's surprised chuckle funnels through the flimsy wood as the lock rattles. "I don't cut their heads off. Just their fingers and their cocks."

"Oh."

"Yeah, ‘oh’." More jostling of the knob. "Here let me do it."

Finally the door slides open, and he guides her inside. Barefoot. Disheveled. Fucking gorgeous with her shiny eyes and pink cheeks and huge smile. While Tuck sets her jacket and clutch on the table, she lifts her arms in the air like she’s throwing confetti.

“I’m home!”

We both are, angel. Her unfocused gaze widens when she catches mine, and the grin slowly slides off her face. Tugged down, centimeter by centimeter, by a tangled rope of sorrow and humiliation and regret. That I’m going to unwind. Now. I hold out my hand. “Books.”

She stares at my fingers. Studying them like they hold meaning deeper than the thick novels she buries herself into. “Chryseis?”

Only one quick shake of her head before she twists around. And runs.

Fuck! So it’s going to be like that. I’ve spent the last six months pushing her away, and I can’t fucking take being apart anymore. That shit stops now. If she won’t listen to my words, then she’s going to listen to her body. To her heart.

With nothing else I can do – nothing left to lose – I run too.