As for Allie’s advice, that will be harder to follow.
Luca raises his eyebrow at me but doesn’t comment. He turns to the woman. “And send up dinner while you’re at it. Steaks, medium rare. Some wine.”
“Of course,” she says, looking both apprehensive and awed.
Only when we step into a mirrored elevator does Luca mutter, “I’m not dying.”
“Then you won’t mind if I wash your cut.” I hold my breath, waiting for him to slap me.
After a shocked pause, he smiles—slow and sure. “This is the girl I found in Harmony Hills. The one I dragged into the car and tied up in my hotel bed.”
I felt reckless then. And powerful, even though I was his captive.
Because I finally broke free of Leader Allen. It had been an illusion, that freedom. Leader Allen followed me into my dreams, my memories. Even the pretty face of my little girl. And he sent my brother after me, a physical danger to rival the emotional pain.
Allie somehow escaped her past, but I wasn’t sure I’d be lucky enough.
Forgiveness or not, there’s someone out there who wants me dead.
“This is the girl who’s terrified,” I whisper.
He takes a step forward, crowding me against the elevator door. I feel smooth metal at my back, a vertical line where the doors will open. “Terrified and fighting anyway,” he murmurs. “You and I have that in common.”
He looked invincible in the ring. “You?”
“Every damn time. So many times I almost got numb to the feeling, but with you it all came rushing back. Twice as hard. Twice as long. Everything sharp and deep.”
I’m breathing harder, aware that we have this in common too. When he’s in the room, things feel different, more clear, more focused. As if I can count every vein in a petal, every speck of pollen in the center of a flower.
His head lowers. His lips are an inch away, his breath a soft caress. His shoulders block out the light from above, leaving his face in shadow. All I have are my memories, the bruises and the blood—the fierce protectiveness that I can take shelter in.
He’s going to kiss me.
I’m going to let him. Kiss me. Touch me. Everything has been building to this.
A ding sounds from above us. The doors slide open, and I fall backward. Strong arms keep me from landing on marble, and I stand up straight on shaky legs. Luca’s expression hardens. He’s not about to kiss me anymore. And the disappointment echoes in my chest.
* * *
The suite has two bedrooms. Luca disappears into one room, slamming the door hard enough to keep me from knocking. I stand in the living room, unaccountably dejected. I should be grateful that he’s not making a move on me. The training left no doubt that he’s a violent man. Bloodthirsty. Lucifer himself—that’s how I saw him at the beginning.
I know from the night in my apartment that he can be gentle, too.
My room is large, with a plush bed as big as my old apartment bedroom. Plus, there’s a desk and a small sitting space. A bathroom just for me. It all feels oversize and uncomfortable, this much space. Like I’m alone even though Luca’s in the same suite.
I find my luggage already brought upstairs and unpacked into the dresser. The hot water scalds away the traces of travel, the lingering remnants of aggression from the gym.
Candy gave me a phone before I left, so I call her. She gives me a play-by-play of Delilah’s day since I left, including noodles and watermelon for lunch, arts and crafts with Candy’s stash of burlesque glitter and feathers, and twelve readings in a row of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.
I’m smiling with tears in my eyes. “I’m sorry. She loves that mouse.”
“No, it’s a good story. I explained to her about bodily autonomy and consent. The mouse may ask for a mirror next, but you don’t have to give it to him.”
I hold back a laugh. “She’s barely one year old.”
“You might have a point. But we learned way too late.”
My smile fades. “Yeah. We did.”