Trapped (Sinners of Boston #5)

6. Delilah

SIX

DELILAH

My alarm clock this morning was Santino’s face, shoved between my thighs. His tongue soothed the ache from being railed all night. He played with me until I gave up and whimpered for more. Then he flipped me on my knees. On my back. Over the desk.

Everywhere .

Santino had sex like he’d lost his mind and could find it inside me. He was feral. I’d never seen a man so determined to make me come. Not just once. Countless times.

At some point, Santino ordered room service. We ate breakfast. He poured me coffee and asked how I liked it—two sugars, lots of milk. After breakfast, I realized that I didn’t have any clothes and would have to do the walk of shame in a wedding dress. Until Santino grabbed a set of women’s size medium leggings, a shirt, and sandals from his suitcase. He’d figured I wouldn’t have anything on me, an alarmingly thoughtful gesture.

Santino didn’t say much the whole morning, but he laughed when I dropped Dimitri’s engagement ring into a homeless person’s cup on the way to his car. He opened the door for me, like a gentleman. When he got into the car, he stared at me and barked one word.

“ Seatbelt .”

I put on the damned seatbelt, still feeling like I was floating in a strange dream. This gentlemanly side of him confused me. I spent the drive to my new place obsessively analyzing him. I’d expected rough, impersonal sex with Santino, but a business transaction wrapped in heat was not how it felt.

My fingers dug into the seat, the ache between my legs still throbbing. The way he’d touched me still warmed my skin. How my pussy clenched when he’d whispered filthy things like: swallow my cum, principessa . Even as he lined up his cock to fuck me, I never felt like I was being used for his pleasure. I’d enjoyed myself too much.

What was wrong with me?

I glanced at Santino. He stared ahead, eyes on the road. He looked bright-eyed and ready for the day, and not like he’d spent the last six hours screwing me. Was this not a big deal for him?

“Where are we going?”

“Your new place,” he said.

I fidgeted in my seat. It’d been too long since my last drink. Before we left the hotel, I’d snuck some bottles from the minibar into my purse, but I couldn’t drink them now. People rarely reacted well to my drinking.

Twenty minutes later, I stepped into a stunning apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. The place was sleek, all glass and steel, and it screamed luxury.

I turned to face Santino, my heart racing. “This is my apartment?”

“Yeah. You like it?”

It was beautiful. An apartment I’d only dreamed of living in. I crossed the room, running my fingers along the polished marble countertops. “I would’ve been fine with a less expensive place.”

Santino gave me a shrewd look. “Did you expect me to throw you in a dump?”

“No, but…I’m not a girlfriend. I’m only your mistress.”

“This is where you’ll stay,” he said, sliding a set of keys on the counter. “No one can touch you here. You’re safe.”

I curled my hand around them. “Thanks.”

He took an envelope from his jacket and placed it next to the keys. “That’s the money we agreed on.”

Santino leaned on the counter as I grabbed the envelope. My breath hitched as I thumbed through the crisp bills, my mind racing with the possibilities. He’d really given me the money. For the first time in months, I felt a spark of hope. Maybe this arrangement with Santino wouldn’t be as painful as I’d thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be painful at all .

That blew my mind. I could rebuild everything Dimitri had destroyed. My vintage boutique had been more than a dream. It was supposed to be my chance to have something of my own. I’d been working on it for years, collecting clothes from different eras, carefully preserving each piece until Dimitri decided it was all “a distraction” and wiped it all out in one tantrum.

But with this money? I could start again.

I pictured the boutique I’d always imagined. The soft lighting, rows of beautiful dresses lining the racks, customers coming in to find their perfect piece. Santino could fund it, make it happen. If I played my cards right and kept him satisfied, I could have my boutique back.

Excitement buzzed under my skin. This wasn’t just about getting away from Dimitri anymore. It was about reclaiming my life.

I looked back at Santino, my heart still pounding. He stood there, arms crossed. Did he know what this meant for me? Could he see the flicker of hope he’d just lit?

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

I shrugged. “I’m imagining all the stuff I want to buy.”

“Good. You should be.”

I stared at Santino, incredulous. This was too easy. Too good to be true.

“What’s the catch?” I asked.

“You know the catch. You’re mine.”

“But this… all of this—” I gestured to the luxurious apartment, still holding the envelope. “It’s more than I expected.”

“You asked me to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, but it seems like there’s strings attached.”

“The only string is me, principessa. You belong to me now. As long as that’s true, you’ll live like this. But if you betray me or try to run, this goes away.”

Santino’s gaze stayed steady on mine, his dark eyes flickering with…possessiveness? Amusement? It unnerved me the way he claimed me so easily.

I steadied my breathing. This was what I’d signed up for. Santino had never hidden who he was or what he expected. I’d prepared for a less intense version of Dimitri.

“I won’t.”

He shrugged. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Why was he so generous to a woman he used for sex? Sure, he was getting what he wanted—my body, my compliance—but there had to be more to it. No man handed over this kind of luxury without expecting something bigger in return. He could’ve just given me a cheap apartment, tossed a couple of bills my way, and still had the control he wanted. But this… this felt like more than an arrangement. It felt calculated.

Maybe he enjoyed making me feel indebted to him, keeping me on edge, wondering when the price would be paid. Or maybe he liked the idea of me depending on him for everything.

“What’s the real reason?” I asked.

“For what?”

“For all of this.”

His smile flipped my stomach. “What makes you think I need a reason beyond what I’ve already told you?”

“Because men like you don’t do anything without a reason. You could’ve given me a lot less. Hell, you could’ve skipped renting an apartment.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing my waist. “I like taking care of what’s mine.”

Heat crept up my neck. He said that like he meant it, which was crazy, but here I stood in an expensive apartment that he’d paid for. He liked paying my bills?

I could work with that.

I could even come out on top . If he liked me enough, maybe the gravy train would last for a while. I’d pretend to be perfect, keep him hooked, and hide my glaring flaws. Staying with him was in my best interests, but it’d require a delicate balancing act. I never wanted another serious relationship again.

I plastered on a smile, letting my fingers trail his chest. “Well, I guess I’d better be a good girl.”

Santino leaned in closer, his breath warm and teasing as it brushed my lips. He kissed me, and I swept my tongue across his lip. He tasted clean and sharp, like citrus. I cradled his face in my hands, pulling him closer to me, and he groaned. He seemed to like that, so I gripped the back of his neck and fisted his hair.

The kiss turned feral. Santino pushed me against the wall, hands on my waist. His growl vibrated into my fingers.

Santino broke the kiss, panting. “You’re going to make me miss every appointment this week.”

I smiled, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “We could stop.”

“Fuck that.”

He crushed his mouth against mine. His hand slipped under my dress, palming my ass. Gathering my panties in his fist, he ripped them off. His eyes darkened when he felt how wet I was. His touch disappeared, and then he lifted me into his arms. He carried me into a dark room, tossing me onto a king-sized bed.

This arrangement would work out better than I thought. Everything was falling into place. With him, I could rebuild my life on my terms. I could handle him. If I played the part, I’d be the one in control. As long as he never noticed how much I drank.