Trapped (Sinners of Boston #5)

18. Delilah

EIGHTEEN

DELILAH

My stomach twisted as I stared at the phone’s screen, my heart pounding. Santino had been so calm when he left, but his silence hadn’t been reassuring. It had screamed disappointment. With every passing second, I was spiraling.

I sent him a message.

When are you coming back?

His reply came a minute later.

Santino

Meeting ran late. What’s going on?

I stared at the message, trembling. What was I supposed to say? Guilt gnawed at me.

Nothing.

Santino had every right to be pissed. I’d put him in danger by not telling him sooner. I’d let Dimitri corner me, and Santino had to clean up the mess I’d made.

Santino

I’ll be there soon.

I stared at his response, panicking. He was mad. I knew it. I tossed the phone onto the couch. I’d spent the last few hours since the fight with Dimitri at Santino’s bachelor pad, a swanky spot in the middle of downtown. As soon as I stepped through the door, I headed straight for his liquor cabinet. I grabbed the bottle of vodka from the table. My hand shook as I poured another glass, the clear liquid splashing the sides. I raised it to my lips and took a burning gulp.

Santino

Are you taking care of yourself?

I might be indulging just a little.

Santino

Drinking?

Toasting survival.

I could imagine him rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Santino

I don’t like you drinking alone.

Come keep me company then.

I smirked, the edges of my vision slightly blurred.

Santino

We need to talk.

I set the phone aside, the last message floating through the ether like a leaf on the wind. As the room spun around me, I drank more. We need to talk . Everybody knew what that meant.

I swallowed the last mouthful of alcohol, my eyes burning. A slideshow of our relationship swept through my head in vibrant pictures. Our first dinner together. That date a few weeks ago, when we grabbed brunch at Paramount and went shopping on Charles Street on Beacon Hill. He’d dropped several grand on dresses for me. His teasing, soft voice when he called me principessa . Vodka couldn’t drown out the warmth of those memories.

My lip quivered and my hands shook.

I stumbled into his bedroom and stripped, slipping into one of his long-sleeved shirts. He always insisted I wear his clothes. His way of marking me as his, even when he wasn’t there to do it himself. Then I rolled up the sleeves and finger-combed my hair. The mirror reflected a vision of calculated beauty as I dabbed makeup on my cheeks. I had to look like I didn’t give a fuck, but I knew when he walked through the door, he’d see right through it. Just like when he sent me a single white rose with a note that said, You can’t hide from me.

I didn’t care. We weren’t supposed to stay together anyway. If he wanted to leave, fine , but not before I rubbed it in that he’d never have me again.

The latch on the door turned, and my heart dropped.

I dashed out of his bedroom and waited for him in the kitchen. His shoes clipped the flawless floor as he stepped in, his dark eyes narrowing as he saw me. I was the picture of nonchalance as I leaned over the porcelain kitchen island in his shirt, a glass in my hand.

“What are you doing?” he growled.

I swirled the liquid in my glass with a flick of my wrist. “Wanna join me?”

His fingers brushed mine as he gently removed the glass from my hand and set it on the island with a decisive clink. His gaze landed on the empty vodka bottle I’d forgotten to hide. He didn’t even try to conceal his disappointment, his gaze scanning my face as though searching for me beneath the flush of alcohol.

“Principessa,” he chided. “The whole bottle?”

A pang twinged through me.

“How often do you drink like this?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I like to indulge. So what?”

He frowned. “An entire bottle though? You should be in the hospital.”

“I’m Russian. Drinking is in my blood.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Maybe we should test that theory with something stronger.”

“Like moonshine?”

“Paint thinner.”

I hitched a grin. “Only if you join me.”

Santino leaned against the kitchen counter, no longer smiling. “How long has this been going on?”

I’d been drinking since I was twelve. It started small, sneaking out of school with friends and raiding Dad’s liquor cabinet, huddling with Luca outside family events, passing the bottle back and forth, and daytime drinking at bars. Pool halls. Slamming back shots.

“ Principessa ?”

The warmth I saw in his eyes scared me more than the need clawing at my brain. I reached for the glass, but he grabbed my wrist. He dragged me to the sink and seized a cup from the drying rack. Then he filled it with water and shoved it in my hands.

“Drink.”

I sighed. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Do it, or I’ll pour it down your throat.”

I huffed. Then I gulped down a mouthful. And another. When I’d finished, he refilled it. I pushed his hand aside, but my aim was a little off, and I ended up swatting the air.

Santino’s frown deepened.

I waved him off. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m fine.”

He gripped my shoulders. “You’ve had a bottle of vodka. In two hours.”

“My body can handle it.”

The room spun, and his hands were the only thing grounding me. I tried to shrug him off, but he held fast.

“I just need some air.”

“Delilah, have you ever been to rehab?”

Been there. Done that.

Everybody thought rehab was a magical solution. That you emerged from it transformed. Fixed. Healed. It didn’t. It was the first step in a very long journey. Every time I went, it made me feel used up, tired, and sick. Maybe I couldn’t pull off sober living.

My cheeks flushed. “I won’t go to rehab.”

“I won’t let you destroy yourself.”

“And what if I want to be destroyed?”

“That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be,” I shot back.

I looked at him, my insides splintering. Santino couldn’t understand what I’d been through. My asshole ex was right. Santino lusted after the image I’d spent months perfecting, not the mess in front of him. He’d probably lost all attraction to me. He was disgusted.

He had already decided to break up with me. He just hadn’t said it yet. Maybe he wanted his dick sucked one more time, or he was searching for words that wouldn’t shatter me. Because even though he broke a dozen laws daily, he’d always been kind to me.

Do not fucking cry . Just rip off the Band-Aid .

“I think we should break up,” I blurted, my throat tightening. “This relationship has run its course.”

Santino looked like I’d tossed a match into a barrel of gasoline. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“But we were never going to work.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, principessa. I’m not some fling you can throw away.”

That sank in, mingling with the alcohol in my veins. Part of me wanted to dissolve into him. To feel the safety I’d been craving.

He leaned in, his expression filled with a yearning that swelled inside me. His lips pressed against mine, and his erection dug into my hip. He gripped my waist, pulling me closer as if he could fuse us together.

The nerves in my body ignited. I had to free myself from his grip around my heart, but every fierce stroke of his mouth let me taste the passion beneath the dominance. His tongue coaxed me to give in. My hands glided to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as I kissed him back.

He pulled away. “Don’t ever mention breaking up again.”

“But I’m not what you want,” I stammered, my lips tingling. “You want a living doll you get to fuck, but I’m…I’m a mess. I’m not the fantasy you have in your head.”

“Good. I want the real thing.”

My heart hammered. “You say that now.”

“You think I don’t know what it’s like to struggle?”

“ I’m toxic . I’ll ruin you.”

He smirked. “You’re giving yourself too much credit. I’ve seen ruin. You’re not it. Besides, you owe me.”

My insides twisted. “For what?”

“All the cash you borrowed,” he said smoothly.

“ Borrowed? ”

“Yeah. What, you thought that was free ? After you took enough for a down payment on a house?”

He laughed, and panic threaded through my dread. I fought the urge to show him the boutique’s website and prove I wasn’t wasting his money.

I gritted my teeth. “Those were gifts.”

“Cash gifts are for wives and serious girlfriends. You’ve made it clear you want to be neither.” He shrugged, his mouth twitching. “If you don’t want to be more to me, I’ll have to treat you like you’re not.”

“But I wasn’t aware they were loans,” I choked out.

“Delilah, I’m a loan shark.”

Irritation clawed at my skin. “You never mentioned there were any strings other than sex attached to the money.”

“I have every dollar accounted for in my ledger. You’ve been at two points. That’s two percent of the principal. It adds up fast.”

I bristled. “So how much do I owe?”

“You’re just shy of a hundred grand.”

I glared at him, hands on my hips. “There was never an asterisk next to the jewelry you gave me, so why would there be one on the money?”

“There’s always an asterisk, baby. You chose not to see it.”

I took a step back. “You can’t just spring this on me!”

He shrugged. “I warned you. You didn’t listen.”

“The hell you did! I don’t remember that conversation.”

“I did, at the fighting ring. I told you to have a plan. You said, and I quote, ‘I’m not looking for an escape.’”

“I was flirting with you!”

His lip twitched. “Everything has a price.”

My stomach knotted. “I thought we were…I thought…”

Santino’s black eyes bored into mine. “You have to pay your dues, principessa. That’s how this world works.”

“I can’t believe I trusted you.”

“Me neither,” he drawled. “But you did, and there’s no going back.”

I’d been naive to think the thousands I lifted from Santino’s wallet were gifts. The carefree spending, the luxurious lifestyle—it all had a price tag.

I shook my head. “I’ve been so stupid.”

“You’re not. You just didn’t understand the rules.”

I looked up at him, my vision blurring. “Are you blackmailing me into being your girlfriend?”

“I’m reminding you of the terms. If you want to keep pretending this is just a fling, I can make it feel that way. But we both know it isn’t.”

I wanted to push him away, but watching him beat the crap out of Dimitri knocked something loose inside me. What if he’d gotten hurt? The balled-up tissues on Santino’s coffee table proved that he meant something to me, and that scared me.

“I never asked for this. I just wanted to be safe.”

He shrugged. “I never asked for this either. But here we are.”

My heart fluttered and tears stung my eyes, but I fought them back. I didn’t trust men. I couldn’t afford to, but Santino wasn’t like Dimitri. He’d never hurt me. Not the way I’d been hurt before.

“Delilah, you can twist yourself into a pretzel about how you’ll pay me back. Or you can be honest with me.”

“What are you talking about?”

He didn’t flinch. “I want more.”

“What does that even mean? I don’t understand what you want?—”

“Tell me something real, not something to stroke my ego.”

I scoffed. “Like what?”

“What makes you feel safe? How can I give that to you?”

I blinked, stunned by the softness in his voice. “I want to be free! Don’t you get that? You think you’re different, but you’re not. You’re just like all the other men who want to own me, use me, and throw me away when they’re done!”

His jaw clenched. He just stood there, watching me unravel.

“You’re trying to trap me! You keep me close, give me things, and then hold it over my head when it suits you. But I’m not like the women you’re used to. I’m not someone you can control.”

Santino’s face darkened. “You think I don’t know that?”

I stared at him. “Why are you demanding this from me?”

“You’re the only thing in my life that I can’t buy with money. I’m trying to figure this out, just like you are.”

“I thought this was just business for you.”

“It started that way, but it stopped being that the second I realized I actually gave a damn about you.”

My heart pounded. “But you don’t—how could you even?—?”

“You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel like this. I don’t know what the hell this is between us, but it’s real. And you’re trying to run from it.”

“I’m not running!” I screamed, my throat raw. “You’re asking for things I can’t give. You want me to open up, to believe that you’re different from every other man who’s ever used me, and I can’t do it! I can’t trust you like that!”

“I don’t want to use you. I want you to feel like you belong with me.”

I shook my head. “You want to get me pregnant. Just admit it. You don’t have feelings for me. This is just another form of control.”

“No, baby. I understand my feelings. You’re the one who doesn’t understand what this could be.”

My heart pounded, torn between the deep fear that he was lying and the desperate hope that maybe he wasn’t.

His expression softened. “Delilah, I’m not perfect. I’ll probably screw up. But the difference between me and the others is that I’m not going anywhere.”

I give up.

The fight drained out of me as I sank onto a chair. I had no energy to push him away. Santino grabbed my hand, the sight of his raw knuckles twisting something inside me.

“I want us to go away somewhere.”

I glanced at him. “Like on a trip?”

“Yeah, for a few weeks.”

I couldn’t leave. The shop was just coming together.

My breathing hitched. “Where?”

Santino only kissed my forehead. “Pack your bags.”