Page 47 of Trapped
“Good to see you out of the ring. Sonny doesn’t bring around just anyone.”
“We’re not?—”
Santino squeezed my side. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while. I kept it on the down low. You know how Mom gets. As soon as I tell her I have a girlfriend, she’ll be planning the wedding.”
My face flushed.
What the hell was he doing?
Kill smirked. “You might as well give her what she wants, bro.”
The playful banter wrapped around me like chains. How could he introduce me as a girlfriend to his family? Every touch was accounted for in his ledger.
“If you two ever make it official, we have the best chapel in Tennessee.” Violet beamed, nudging Kill. “Ain’t that right, baby?”
He kissed Violet’s forehead.
A pang struck me. I excused myself, murmuring about needing a moment. Santino’s hand lingered on my back, his touch burning through the fabric of my dress. The way he touched me, how he included me in his family—it felt too real.
I headed toward the restrooms. The less crowded space was a relief, but it did little to calm me. Santino kept pushing my boundaries. He came inside me like getting me pregnant was his job. Then he’d given mekeys.
Nowthis?
I’d come so far from the scared girl Dimitri had controlled, but Santino was making me question everything. Why was it so hard to keep my guard up around him? Nothing between us was real. Was it?
My hands gripped the edge of the sink, the cool porcelain grounding me. I could hear the faint murmur of the gala outside—laughter and music that felt worlds away.
I left the bathroom and escaped to the bar, ordering a double shot of vodka on the rocks. I drained it, and my pulse steadied. I couldnotlet Santino into my head. This was a man whose brother killed people for a living. A man from the same world I’d run from. A world that forced women to marry monsters and bear their children.
Never again.
Santino was just a means to an end—Dimitri’s end.
I set the glass down as the crowd parted slightly at the venue’s entrance, framing a man in a suit with an unruly wave of black hair who just walked in. A cold knot formed in my stomach.
Dimitri.
SIXTEEN
DELILAH
Dimitri spotted me almost immediately.
His eyes narrowed as he took in my figure-hugging red dress. Dimitri wasn’t a fan of me showing off skin, so for this event, I chose a halter dress with a plunging neckline. A final fuck-you to the man who’d been a controlling bastard.
The day we announced our engagement, he marched into my bedroom and went through every article of clothing. He hated anything that showed cleavage, didn’t like the color blue on me, and claimed that crossbody purses made my breasts too prominent. Scarves, long sleeves, and muted colors became my wardrobe. Most of my vintage clothes went into clear bins shoved in my closet.
I put up with it for a while. I was always told I wasn’t worth a damn, so why not give up everything for my only shot at marriage? Nobody else would ever love me. Maybe it’d make my father proud. He’d treat me like I existed, and I wouldn’t feel like a worthless human being.
Dimitri was probably the worst partner Dad could’ve picked for me. Any self-esteem I had before, and I didn’t have much, was ground into rubble. Dimitri screamed at me for looking at men. Talking to men. Simply meeting their gaze was off-limits. I couldn’t talk to Luca anymore, even though he’d only been a friend, and Dimitri made me quit my gym. The last straw was him canceling an appointment behind my back because he objected to a male doctor touching me.
When I snuck into Afterlife, it was the first time in months I’d let myself wear whatever I wanted. It felt incredible, like I’d been stuffed in corsets and could finally breathe. Reclaiming myself didn’t happen overnight. Asking Santino for help had felt like jumping from one fire into another. But he was different from Dimitri. Despite his reputation, Santino treated me with respect. Dimitri controlled everything about me—how I dressed, who I talked to, what I did. Santino gave me space.
I felt safe around him. He never ordered me to dress down, and he gifted me things that suited my style, nothing that changed me. It felt like he was celebrating me, unlike Dimitri, who treated me like a decorative piece to complement his image.
Dimitri had been unable to resist the bait. He glowered as he weaved through the crowd.
I lifted my chin as he approached.