Trapped (Sinners of Boston #5)

21. Delilah

TWENTY-ONE

DELILAH

The first few days of detox were hell. Dr. Moretti and his nurse, Maria, made frequent house calls. They were both kind and professional, but there was no escaping the torture of withdrawal. Nausea, sweating, shaking…my body rebelled against the absence of alcohol with a ferocity that exhausted me.

Santino never left my side. He was there through every agonizing moment, holding my hand, helping me shower, whispering words of encouragement as he wiped vomit from my chin, and reminding me why I was doing this.

Each night, as the sun set over the vineyards and the pain clawed at my insides, Santino carried me onto the balcony. He’d hold me close, his words weaving a tapestry of hope that felt too good to be true.

“Imagine a life where the hardest part of your day is choosing which vineyard to stroll through.”

He painted a vivid picture of a dream so beautiful, making it seem within reach—stability, safety, and maybe love. I clung to it through the tremors and tears.

After the fourth day, cravings gnawed at me with jagged teeth. I’d catch myself staring at the phone, considering calling a local bar or, worse, trying to find a hidden stash Santino had overlooked.

But I never did. Because Santino was there. He’d notice the slight tremor in my hands and be there with a distraction—a book, a game, a walk among the grapes, or simply his presence. Other than kissing, we didn’t do anything sexual. He wanted me to focus on healing.

By the end of the first week, the worst of the withdrawal had passed. My body, though still weak, found a new equilibrium. The cravings lurked in the background, but I felt like myself again.

“I’m proud of you,” Santino said as we sat on the terrace, the Tuscan sun bathing us in its golden warmth. “You did it.”

I glanced at him. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could have, but I’m glad I helped.”

“You kept me going. You believed in me when I didn’t.”

I was falling for him.

The realization crept up on me slowly, like sunlight spreading over my face. I couldn’t deny it anymore. I didn’t want to. Somewhere between the chaos of Boston and the quiet of this Tuscan countryside, he’d gotten under my skin, and I couldn’t shake him.

I’d started to lean on him, not just as a savior from my old life but as a pillar in my new one. It was terrifying. The more I depended on him, the scarier losing this became.

“You’ve been patient with me, and it’s been so nice here. Thank you for doing this.”

He brushed hair from my face, making my heart ache. “We’re in this together. For better or worse.”

“I—what do you mean by that?”

Santino slid his hand across my back. “You belong to me, and that’s never changing.”

Never? “That’s quite the leap of faith.”

“It’s more than that, principessa. It’s a fact.”

I chuckled, my cheeks flushing. “Okay. Take it easy.”

He smiled. “You still don’t get it.”

My face flushed. “Get what?”

“There’s nothing I won’t do to own you completely.”

The warning in his tone set me on edge. He’d tamped down on his possessiveness in the weeks we’d been in Italy, but now that I’d recovered, the monster was out to play.

“You’re the only man in my life, Santino.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

My body stiffened as he splayed a hand on my knee, the contact burning through my summer dress. Santino’s smile stayed light, but darkness rumbled through his words.

“Have you taken a pregnancy test yet?”

The question hung in the air like a thundercloud. I stared at Santino, my mind reeling.

“Um, not in a while.”

Santino dropped a thin package onto the armrest of the lounge chaise, his expression heavy. “Take it.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

I swallowed hard. “Why?”

“Because if you’re not, we need to keep trying.”

I blinked at him, shock rippling through me. “Trying to improve my Italian?”

Santino’s lips twitched, but his gaze remained firm. “We can’t go home until you’re pregnant.”

I shook my head. Fear, confusion, and an inexplicable flicker of hope tangled together, leaving me breathless. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He smiled as I gaped at him. “The threat in Boston isn’t going anywhere, but if you’re pregnant, you’ll be safe. I’ll have leverage to negotiate something with my boss.”

“What does your boss have to do with it?”

“My boss wants you dead.”

My throat tightened. “What did I do to him?”

“Nothing. Vinn wants retribution for an old feud.”

“What feud?”

“It’s a long story. Happened years ago.” Santino stared at the vineyards, his posture rigid. “He wanted me to lure your father to a meeting, kill him, and then kill you. I couldn’t let anything happen to you, so I brought you to Italy.”

I sank back into the chair. “You took me to Italy…to get me pregnant?”

“To protect you,” he corrected. “My boss won’t come after you if we’re having a baby.”

“That’s your solution ?”

“It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

I glanced down at the pregnancy test on the armrest. “So all those nights you’ve been coming inside me without a condom. Was this your plan all along?”

“I did what I had to do, Delilah. If you’re pregnant, Vinn can’t touch you. You’ll be the mother of my child, and that gives you protection.”

A dark suspicion entered my head.

For weeks, I hadn’t taken my birth control pills. The moment we landed in Italy, I looked for them to take my next dose. I swore I’d packed them, but they weren’t in my zipped clutch or my makeup bag. I’d brought it up to Santino, but he patted my hand and told me to focus on getting better. We didn’t have sex during my recovery, so it slipped from my mind.

Did he throw them out?

It was as though the ground had slipped beneath my feet. The world tilted, and I couldn’t breathe.

My heart pounded. “So…so all of this, bringing me here, helping me through detox. It was all to keep me alive long enough to knock me up ?”

Santino smiled. “You can’t get pregnant if your drinking is out of control.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

I tried to push myself up, to get away from him, but my legs wobbled. Santino caught me, his arm around my waist, and helped me stand.

His grip on me tightened. Then he slowly picked up the pregnancy test from the armrest, as though giving me a chance to react. But I couldn’t. I was frozen, torn between reality and the impossible hope that this wasn’t real.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, rubbing my back. “You need to take this.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I let him guide me back in, his hand warm against my back as he led me toward the bedroom.

When we reached the bedroom, Santino paused at the door. Softness lingered in his predatory gaze, making this whole situation even more surreal.

“You came inside me our first night together.”

He smirked. “I just liked the idea of defiling a Romanov bride.”

“So you wanted to humiliate me.”

“It was never about hurting you, principessa. I thought I’d play with you for a while, and then…I don’t know. Maybe I caught feelings right away. I’m not sure.”

That wrapped around me like velvet shackles. The warmth of his hands soothed the chill settling in my heart. All the alcohol I drank in the past must’ve damaged my brain. Why else wasn’t I fighting him tooth and nail?

He pushed me inside the room.

Like a helpless child, I let him guide me. A lump lodged in my throat at the sight of the bed. A deranged excitement zipped through my limbs as he looped an arm around my waist.I gripped his wrist, intending to fling it off me.

“ Stop ,” I whimpered.

“Delilah, you knew coming to me was a risk.”

“You were supposed to have your fun and move on!”

“So you can drink yourself into an early grave? I don’t think so, principessa. You are too valuable to throw your life away.” He closed the door to the bedroom.

“Bringing a child into our mess isn’t the answer.”

“It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Why wait until now?”

“You had to focus on getting clean. I didn’t want to add more pressure on you.”

I barked out a laugh. “Always so concerned for my well-being.”

“You couldn’t even handle keys to my place. You’d pitch a fit if I brought up trying for a baby.”

“This is insane,” I hissed.

“Plenty of guys have kids with their mistresses, and I intend to make you my wife. So. If you don’t mind. Take the test.” He nudged me into the bathroom, flipped the lights, and set the pink box on the counter.

Kids. Marriage.

He’d lost his ever-loving mind.

I needed to escape, to find some space to breathe, but Santino blocked the exit. “You’re a scheming prick!”

“Let’s not pretend I’m the only manipulator in this room.”

“I won’t take the damned test,” I snarled.

“I’m not moving until you do.”

Asshole .

I ripped open the box, hating him, and slammed the door shut. I leaned against it, breathing hard. I did my business in the bathroom and took the test, my hands shaking so much it was difficult to hold it steady. Then I set it down on the counter and waited, my heart pounding.

Minutes dragged on, each one stretching into an eternity. I stared at the plastic window as a thin line appeared.

Negative .

A strange mix of relief and disappointment washed over me. I wasn’t tied to Santino in the way he wanted, but the threat still loomed behind the door.

I opened it.

Santino’s hopeful gaze locked onto mine. “Well?”

I handed him the test.

He looked down, frowning. “Negative.”

I nodded, biting my lip. “What now?”

“We try again,” he said.

“Santino—”

He closed the distance between us, grabbing my neck. His lips crashed into mine, stealing the breath from my lungs. The kiss was raw, filled with all the pent-up lust from not being able to touch me the past few weeks.

Despite the whirlwind of rage inside me, my body responded. I kissed him back, pouring all my confusion into the moment. His hand anchored me to him as if he feared I might slip away.

The kiss deepened. His lips were demanding, almost punishing, but I welcomed the roughness, how it made everything fade into the background. There was no threat of Dimitri, no looming ultimatum. Just us.

Santino’s grip tightened as he pulled back slightly. His eyes held me captive. “I need you. It’s been too long.”