Trapped (Sinners of Boston #5)

16. Delilah

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.

Dimitri sat down next to me at the bar, leering. “So this is how you taunt me? Dressing up like a shlyukha and asking me to meet you in public?”

The bartender glanced at us, wiping a glass.

I smiled at him and turned to Dimitri. “I dress for myself now.”

He sneered. “You look desperate.”

“Funny you mention that because I’ve seen the men you’ve been sending after me. Seems like you’re the one who can’t let go.”

He slung his arm over my chair, baring his teeth. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re a loose end that needs tying up .”

“I feel the same way about you.”

Dimitri’s gaze stabbed into me. His fingers traced my neck, an icy touch that made my skin crawl. “You’re still mine. No one will want you once they know the real you. That’s why you ran, isn’t it? Because there’s no escape.”

“I left you to be with someone else.” Pausing, I let the suspense build, relishing in the tightening of Dimitri’s jaw. “His name is Santino Costa. You might have heard of him?”

His grip on his glass tightened, the knuckles turning white. “You whored yourself out to the Italians?”

“He bought this dress I’m in, the earrings, the necklace. Pretty much everything I’m wearing.”

“You’re baiting me,” said Dimitri in a ragged voice.

“Nope. Just being honest.”

He rubbed his flushing face, clenching and unclenching his hands.

“I did what I had to do to survive.” I drank the rest of my cocktail, savoring his rage. “No regrets.”

“You think you’re smart, running to Costa? He’s just another cage. You’ll see. Once he’s bored, he’ll hand you over, broken and used. And I’ll be waiting.”

I tensed. “If I were you, I’d forget I existed, turn around, and walk out that door. Before he sees you talking to me and rips out your throat.”

He laughed. “I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”

Dimitri gripped my arm and hauled me off the stool.

I grabbed the empty glass, smashing it on his head.

The crowd gasped as Dimitri staggered, clutching his bleeding forehead. He looked up at me, fury and humiliation screwing up his features.

A dark figure stepped in, blocking his path. Relief washed over me as Santino’s hand shot out and gripped Dimitri by the neck. Dimitri lunged at Santino. Santino dodged, Dimitri’s knuckles grazing his cheek, then buried his fist into Dimitri’s gut, driving air from his lungs with a satisfying grunt.

My heart pounded as Dimitri came at Santino with a wild right hook. Santino caught his wrist midair, twisting it, but not before Dimitri’s other hand clutched Santino’s shirt. They crashed into a table, sending glasses flying, before Santino slammed Dimitri against the counter. Bottles rattled as Dimitri struggled to regain his footing. Santino punched Dimitri’s jaw.

Dimitri roared in pain, head-butting Santino. Shaking it off, Santino seized Dimitri’s collar. Dimitri tripped over a chair, and they both went down. Straddling Dimitri, Santino hammered his face, cheek, and nose. Crimson spurted from Dimitri’s lip.

Santino got to his feet, towering over him. “Get up. We’re not done.”

Dimitri spat blood, pushing himself up with a grimace. “She’s mine. I’ll bury you both before I let her go.”

Santino laughed. “You think you can keep her, you pathetic piece of shit? You couldn’t even keep a grip on your balls.”

The crowd around us buzzed with a mix of shock and morbid curiosity. People whispered to each other, their eyes glued to the scene. Some seemed uncomfortable, while others smirked.

Santino’s taunt had struck a nerve. Dimitri flushed a deep, angry red. It was a public dismantling of his ego, and everyone in the room could see it. The way Santino treated him like a joke only added fuel to the fire.

Dimitri’s fists clenched, his breathing ragged. “You stole her from me.”

“Poor baby,” Santino taunted, grinning.

“I’ll kill you?—”

Santino kicked Dimitri’s leg out, sending him crashing to the floor. Dimitri struggled to rise, but Santino pinned him down with a leather shoe on his chest. “You belong here. Stay there before I decide to really fuck up your night.”

A surge of satisfaction welled up inside me as Dimitri lost his shit, screaming a tirade of Russian insults. This was going much better than I’d imagined. Santino kicked Dimitri’s ribs until he shut up. Then Santino’s men appeared out of nowhere, dragging Dimitri’s limp body away.

Santino turned to me. “Did he hit you?”

I shook my head, reaching up to smooth his lapels and straighten his tie. Santino scooped my trembling hand in his and brought it to his lips. His knuckles were red and looked like they hurt.

Santino didn’t let it show. Of course . The men I grew up with would rather die than utter the smallest whimper. My heart ached as his swollen fingers linked with mine. He walked me toward the exit.

“I’m sorry, Santino.”

Santino texted someone on his phone. “For?”

My throat tightened. “It’s my fault you got into a fight.”

“Nah. That was gonna happen no matter what.”

“No. You don’t understand. He called and threatened me. He said he was in town.” I fidgeted under Santino’s intense glare. “I know. I should’ve told you.”

He put the phone away. “And you shouldn’t have talked to him alone.”

“I had to stand up for myself. I needed to prove to Dimitri I wasn’t the same girl he tried to control. And a stupid, selfish part of me wanted him to see us together. I’m sorry. You deserve better than that.”

Streetlights cast shadows across his face.

“We’ll talk about this later.” A car pulled up to the curb, and Santino opened the door for me. “Vitale will take you home.”

I stepped in.

Santino closed the door behind me and leaned in through the open window. “I want you to stay at my place.”

I caught his hand before he pulled away. “Are you mad at me?”

He tensed, confirming my suspicions. “I have something to deal with, but I’ll see you soon.”

“Are you in trouble because of me?” I whispered.

He slipped out of my grip. “Don’t worry about it.”

He tapped the roof and backed away. As the car drove off, I watched him through the rear window, a heavy feeling settling in my stomach.

What had I done?

Santino had fought for me, and I’d lied and set him up. I stared at my reflection in the window, the city lights blurring past. I couldn’t shake the image of Santino’s raw knuckles. He’d defended me, but at what cost? I fidgeted with my phone, desperate to make sure he was okay. But what could I say? Sorry I dragged you into my mess? The words felt hollow.

The knot in my throat tightened.

The car stopped in front of Santino’s building, and I stepped out, my legs shaky. I rode the elevator to his apartment and used the key he’d given me. Once inside, I locked the door and leaned against it, closing my eyes.