Page 102 of Trapped
“It feels like everything is falling apart.”
His grip tightened slightly. “You haven’t lost anything, Delilah.”
I shook my head, tears stinging the back of my eyes. How would Santino react if he knew the truth about Luca? About the man he became in the shadows of the Bratva? I had no idea what his family would do once they found out.
I couldn’t do anything about the store, but I could help them.
His family was a close-knit group. They’d endured so much together, and now I was a part of that. Luca’s shadow loomed over us, a secret that threatened to unravel everything. I owed these people.
My father was the only one with answers.
THIRTY-FOUR
SANTINO
It took longer than I thought to get footage from the surrounding businesses. The store across the street showed several masked men breaking into her store. They hid their faces but stupidly wore jean jackets with a horned animal’s skull on the back.
The Animals.
So he’d hired out for the job. I’d scoured Boston for Dimitri, but like a rat scurrying in the sewers, he’d disappeared. The news had a field day with the fire. Headlines decried the out-of-control crime, and the mayor called my boss, threatening to hire the National Guard and shut the city down if things kept spiraling out of control. It pissed me off to no end. The boutique was Delilah’s dream, and it’d been torched because of me. Dimitri couldn’t touch her directly, so he went after what she cared about most.
The next day, police raided my warehouse. An anonymous tip claimed that I was holding someone hostage. A SWAT team burst into my underground fighting ring. Luckily, I’d canceled Thursday night’s fight in anticipation of a move against me. Theyfound nothing, but the disruption was another message from that shit stain.
And Delilah was acting strange since the fire. She spent a lot of time in bed, barely moving. She didn’t sleep. Barely ate. I hired a personal chef and made her cook Russian food. Those little dumplings filled with beef. What were they called? Pelmeni? They sat in a bowl by the bed, untouched. I watched her curl under the blankets, her eyes rimmed with red, her lips and nose red.
Seeing her like this fucked me up inside. I had no idea how to fix this part. At least her drinking problem had actionable solutions—rehab, doctors, support. I didn’t know what to do aboutthis. She was pissed at me. I couldn’t blame her. I’d let her down so badly. She blamed me for her store burning down, and guilt gnawed at me. I didn’t know what to do with that, either.
On the third day, she showed signs of life. She dragged herself out of bed, did her hair and makeup, and sat in the kitchen, sketching in a notepad. Shafts of golden light poured into the room, painting her beautiful face. She stopped when I walked in, her cheeks staining pink like I’d caught her cheating.
My arm curled her waist, and she stiffened. “I’m glad you’re out of bed.”
She shrugged. “I have some errands.”
“I can take you to them. I’m about to head out.”
”No thanks. I-I’d rather do them alone.”
I nodded, and she pulled out of my reach. “See you at dinner?”
“For sure.”
For sure.
I hated that. It sounded like something I used to say in my manwhore era when I was ready to ghost someone.
Except then, Delilah gave me a radiant smile, the one she always used when she wanted something. She leaned forward, grasped my shoulder, and kissed me. Her kiss was slow and thorough, and so were her hands. Gliding down my ass, circling the front of my hips, her finger tracing the head of my stiff cock.
I groaned.
She hadn’t kissed me like this in a while. Her tongue flicked mine, teasing, as she pulled away. Her fingers gave my cock another squeeze, then she smirked.
“Bye, handsome.”
She grabbed her car keys and wiggled her little fingers. Then she disappeared out the door. A dark suspicion started to weave through my head. Delilah using sex to get what she wanted didn’t surprise me, and my wallet was intact.
What was she playing at?
This.She wants you standing at the door with your dick in your hand.