Page 58 of Crimson Fate
We’re standing close now, the space between us charged with confessions and shared dreams. She tilts her head, her eyes searching mine. “What about you? What do you hope for?”
She looks away from me, her face blushing. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Hey, what the fuck? I told you.”
“You’ll make fun of me,” she pouts.
I chuckle, feeling a warmth spread through my chest as I reach out and gently nudge her shoulder. “Come on. I promise I won’t make fun of you.”
She takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting mine with vulnerability shining through. “Okay, fine. But remember, no laughing,” she adds, a hint of playfulness returning to her voice.
“I promise,” I reply softly, my attention entirely focused on her.
Eva takes a step closer, and at that moment, it feels as if the world around us fades into the background. “I hope for love,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want to find someone who sees me for who I truly am, someone who accepts all my flaws and quirks. I want a love that feels like home. I have a job where I get to help people every day. I like who I am. I love my friends. The only thing I’m missing is a soulmate to share it with. So I guess I want someone who sees me, loves me, and doesn’t want to change me.”
“Love?” The word echoes inside me, a concept so foreign in my line of work, yet now it hovers in the air, tangible.
“Yeah, love,” she says, her cheeks flushing with a rosy hue. “Not the fairy-tale kind, but the real, messy, complicated kind.”
“Complicated and messy can be scary,” I confess, the truth surging forth before I can stop it.
“Not if it’s real love. My parents have that, and my mom always told me that was the one thing she hoped for me.”
A comfortable silence settles over us, filled with the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the city at night. My gaze drifts to her face—her eyes that seem to hold entire galaxies within them, her lips curved in a gentle smile—and I feel something inside me shift, like tectonic plates realigning after an earthquake.
In a moment of startling clarity, I recognize the sensation blooming within me. It’s more than respect and deeper than camaraderie; it’s a yearning that’s been quietly growing, nurtured by late-night conversations and shared confidences. My pulse quickens, the realization hitting me harder than any bullet ever could—I’m falling for Eva Martinez.
“Vincent?” Her voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been staring.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, raking a hand through my hair, suddenly self-conscious. “I guess I got lost in thought for a second.”
“Anything you care to share?” Her voice holds a hint of concern mixed with curiosity.
I hesitate, my mind racing with the weight of my confession. It feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure of what lies below. But Eva’s vulnerability and her honesty have pulled something from within me, a desire to speak my truth. I take a deep breath, gathering the courage to share what has been brewing inside me.
“Actually, yeah,” I say. “What kind of man do you think would steal your heart?”
Eva’s eyes widen with surprise at my question, and she takes a small step back, as if my words have caught her off guard. Her lips part slightly, but no sound emerges. I can see the flicker of uncertainty in her gaze, the battle between caution and vulnerability waging within her.
“I... I don’t know,” she finally replies. “I guess someone who sees beyond the surface, someone who values honesty and kindness. Someone who respects me for who I am. I want to have a family, but I don’t want a man who only wants me at home being a mother. I love working at the assisted living facility. Helping people fills my cup, so any man I’m with would have to be okay with that.”
Her words resonate deep within me, striking a chord that reverberates through my chest. It’s as if she’s unknowingly describing the man I strive to be—the man I hope to become for her.
“Well...” A newfound determination infuses my voice. “Maybe that someone is closer than you think.”
A myriad of emotions flicker across her face—confusion, hope, and a trace of fear dancing in her eyes. She opens her mouth and lets out a laugh. “Well, if he is, I wish he would make himself known.”
I can’t help but chuckle at her response, a mixture of nerves and anticipation bubbling beneath the surface. “Well, Eva Martinez, I believe he just did,” I reply, my voice laced with a newfound confidence.
Her laughter dies, replaced by a look of surprise and curiosity. “You?” she asks, her eyes searching mine for any sign of jest.
I step forward, closing the distance between us once again. “Is that so hard to believe?”
A flicker of vulnerability dances in her gaze as she takes in my words. “Yeah, it is. When you woke up this morning, Gia was the one you wanted to be with, and now when you go to bed, it’s me? I can’t give myself to someone with such a fickle heart.”
I reach out, gently cupping her cheek with my hand. The warmth of her skin pulses against my palm. “Gia is an amazing woman, and if things were different, maybe there could have been something real there, but her father isn’t why I can’t be with Gia. It took me a while to realize what I was feeling, but I understand now. It’s you, Eva. It’s always been you.”
Her eyes widen, a question forming on her lips, but I don’t give her the chance to speak. I lean down and press my lips to hers. The world narrows down to the softness of her lips, the tentative brush of her fingers against my wrists, and the sweet surrender in her sigh. This kiss isn’t just a meeting of mouths; it’s the collision of every silent confession we’ve shared, the mingling of souls that have been laid bare. And as Eva kisses me back, everything else falls away—the Mafia, the danger, Gia, Anthony, the legacy of my father—leaving only the truth of this single stolen moment.