Trapped (Sinners of Boston #5)

26. Delilah

TWENTY-SIX

DELILAH

“Dad, I can’t believe you did this,” I hissed into the phone. “You sent men to kill Santino? Have you completely lost your mind? How could you?”

I paused, my breath hitching as I struggled to find the words. “He’s the only person who’s ever protected me. And you…you tried to take that away. I don’t know how you found us, but I swear to God , if you ever come near us again, if you so much as breathe in our direction, I’ll make sure you regret it. I’m not your little girl anymore, and I won’t let you control my life. Stay the hell away from us. I mean it, Dad. This is the last time you’ll ever try to hurt someone I care about.”

I ended the call, my chest heaving. The voicemail was a small victory—a desperate attempt to draw a line between my father’s madness and my relationship with Santino. But as I stood there, phone clutched in my trembling hand, I knew it wouldn’t be enough to stop him.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, principessa.”

I spun around. Santino leaned against the doorway, smirking. The bandage peeking from his shirt reminded me of how close I’d come to losing him, but he acted like he hadn’t just taken a bullet two days ago.

“I never thought I’d see you get riled up on my behalf.”

“Really?” I snapped back, still fuming. “Because I can dial him up again if you want more of a show.”

He chuckled as he walked over to me. He looked different. My gaze flicked down to a pair of Converse shoes. His jeans were rolled up at the bottom, and he wore a white, tucked-in T-shirt. He’d even styled his hair into messy waves.

“What the heck are you wearing?” I asked.

Santino brushed his shirt. “Found some things in my bag that I thought might catch your eye.”

“How’d you do your hair?”

“Online tutorial.”

My heart stumbled. “You did that…for me?”

He nodded and shrugged.

I blinked. “Well, you look amazing.”

“Glad you approve.”

I more than approved. My heart swelled. Santino had gone through all this trouble just to make me smile. It was surreal, this blend of ruthless mafioso and a man who watched hairstyle tutorials to impress me. He didn’t have to do any of this, but he had. For me.

It was almost too much to process. As soon as he stood in front of me, I traced the muscles beneath his shirt.

His mouth hovered close as I curled my fingers into his shirt. His scent swirled in my nostrils as his lips fell on mine, hot and insistent. A tumultuous feeling threatened to upset my balance as I clung to him, tasting every stroke of his tongue. Heat pooled in my core as I kissed him back, surrendering to the craving that followed me every waking moment. My hand slipped under his shirt and teased the tanned skin.

Santino groaned, gently disengaging himself. “Not now, baby. I’m taking you out on a date.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Yes. We’ve been cooped up in this damn villa for too long. It’s time we go out.”

The idea seemed ridiculous. He’d just been shot, but the hard edge in his eyes softened just for me and made it impossible to say no. I folded my hand in his, smiling.

“Where are we going?”

His smirk widened. “Somewhere that’ll remind you why you’re with me. But first, a quick stop at a cafe.”

Holding my hand, he led me out of the room.

We went outside and strolled to the village down the road, the street bustling with people. We entered the same cafe of the other day. Santino chose a secluded table at the back and sat against the wall.

Unease began to creep back in, gnawing at the edges of my happiness. I’d been here before—caught in the warmth of someone’s affection, only to be burned when I let my guard down.

But Santino was different. He wasn’t trying to charm me with empty words. He’d seen the worst of me, and still, he stayed. The thought made my chest ache. He made me believe in us.

After our coffee, we walked down the cobblestone streets, the vibrant energy of the village wrapping around us like a comforting blanket. Santino led us to a record shop, its exterior plastered with old posters.

Inside, the air was filled with the musty scent of old vinyl covers. Classic rock played on a turntable in the corner, and Santino watched me with an amused smile as I darted from bin to bin, my fingers dancing over the records.

“How did you know I like this stuff?”

He gave me a sly smile, shrugging. “You mentioned it once.”

I couldn’t remember. It must’ve been an offhand comment that he’d stowed away. My heart fluttered. Santino paid attention to me. How much of his time had he spent thinking about me? Creating lists of what I liked and didn’t like?

We spent the next hour flipping through records, sharing stories about our favorite bands. Santino surprised me with his knowledge of ragtime music. As we walked back to the villa, the sun setting behind us, I felt deliriously happy. Even with all the chaos surrounding us, this felt right. But that sense of peace shattered the moment I checked my phone.

An urgent email flashed on the screen:

Subject: Urgent: Retro Rose Boutique

Delilah, we have a major issue with the zoning permits. They’re threatening to revoke them unless we provide additional documentation by the end of the week. We need you back here ASAP to sort this out. Please respond immediately.

My heart sank.

“Everything okay?” Santino asked.

I forced a smile. “Yeah.”

He studied me for a moment, then nodded.

I couldn’t shake the dread settling in my stomach. I needed to get back to Boston, but how could I explain that without revealing everything to Santino?

As we had dinner on the terrace, my mind raced. I had to figure out how to fix the situation with the boutique without tipping him off. Miraculously, Santino himself solved the problem. As the sun dipped below the horizon, he turned to me, frowning.

“We have to go back to Boston. There’s something I need to deal with back home. I wish it could wait, but it can’t.”

Perfect .

As much as I loved the rolling hills of Tuscany, I needed to get back to Boston, too. I had a mountain of other work to address besides the zoning permit.

“That’s fine with me,” I said.

“And from now on, you’re staying with me. I’m moving you into my house.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Santino, no .”

“It’s not up for discussion.”

“I can’t just move in with you.”

“You have to,” he growled. “My boss is still a threat to you.”

I grabbed the glass of sparkling cider, wishing it was alcohol. “I don’t understand why he’d go after me. I have nothing to do with whatever my father did.”

“You’re related to him. That’s enough.” His eyes darkened. “And your ex is still hunting for you. You think you can handle all that on your own?”

“I’m not,” I said, sliding my hand over his. “I have you looking after me.”

“I can’t be everywhere all the time.”

“So put some guys outside my door. I don’t mind a few bodyguards.”

Santino’s gaze fractured. “Or you could move in with me.”

His words twisted something inside me. I wanted to be with him. I craved the security he offered, but the thought of losing my independence terrified me.

“I’m not doing that.”

Santino raked his hair with his fingers. “You living in a completely different place makes it harder to keep you safe.”

I swallowed hard. “But not impossible.”

“I’m not letting you stay in that apartment.”

“But moving in with you changes everything!”

“That’s the idea, principessa. I told you this arrangement wasn’t enough for me anymore. And remember,” he added, tapping his forefinger on the table, “there’s a financial incentive if we make this official. Marry me, get pregnant, and it’s all yours.”

Money. Always with the money.

I’d dug that grave by treating him like an ATM. I should’ve been thrilled. Marriage was the goal of most gold-digging women. The idea of being his wife dangled in front of me like a golden ticket. I’d never really been able to afford what I wanted, thanks to my dad’s stinginess. The possibility of wearing Santino’s ring hovered in the air like a shining soap bubble.

His earnest plea broke through my defenses. He looked so sincere, his black eyes starved for me. Maybe he did feel something for me. If all he wanted was a trophy wife, he could’ve married one with far less effort. Santino never let me doubt that he wanted me, not for a second. Whenever I looked at him, I saw his need for me.

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the small box. He popped open the lid. Such a beautiful ring. Tears flooded my eyes. I wanted it so badly. The rational part of my brain screamed to keep my distance, but my heart had already made its decision.

His haunted black eyes watched me. “Say yes, Delilah.”

“Santino.”

“Trust me.”

I shook my head, trying to ward off his velvety purr that seeped into my head. His voice was like a sinful cocktail, snaring through my bloodstream, making me too warm.

“Let me take care of you.”

I breathed fast, suddenly lightheaded. I wanted to say yes. Everything inside me ached to say yes.

Santino grasped my hand and squeezed. “Take it, baby.”

The question I couldn’t ask burned in my mind: Do you even love me?

It shattered the gorgeous illusion of this perfect scene, the Tuscan vineyard bathed in golden light, which made everything it touched appear softer. This was the perfect proposal. Santino looked incredible. His hair, clothes, and even that look in his eyes matched the fantasy of undying devotion.

“You say this is what’s best for me, but what’s best for you? What do you really want from me, Santino? Because I don’t know if I can give you everything you’re asking for without losing myself.”

“I want you with me, Delilah. Whatever it takes.”

I reached out, hand hovering over the box, and shut the lid. “I need more time. I’m not saying no.”

Santino frowned, like he’d expected it but was still disappointed. He stuffed the box in his jacket and shrugged. His smile was resigned, almost sad. His willingness to give me space twisted something inside me.

“We’re not ready for this, Santino.”

“You’re not. I am.”

I stood, my hands trembling. “I’m not pushing you away. I need to be sure I’m doing this for the right reasons.”

“This has always been about money. You’ve been taking what I give you since the beginning. Cash, protection, anything you needed. So why stop now?” He stepped closer, his gaze hard. “You want security. I’m giving you that.”

“You can’t buy me with money.”

Santino watched me calmly. “Yes, I can.”

Chills ran down my spine, his words echoing in the empty space between us like a threat. I backed away, my resolve hardening.

He smiled. “Whether you say yes now or later, you’re mine.”