"Are you running?"
"Maybe." I close my eyes. "Or maybe I'm just trying to survive with some part of myself intact. I slept with him last night and felt more alive than I've felt in years. And that terrifiesme more than anything. Because if I let myself feel that way, if I let this be real and meaningful—" I open my eyes. "Then when he inevitably wants to control me, when he inevitably tries to make me into what everyone expects me to be, it's going to completely destroy me."
"Or," Gia says quietly, "maybe he'll surprise you. Maybe he's not like other men."
"Men like Santino don't surprise anyone," I say with bitter certainty. "They take what they want and expect you to be grateful for the privilege."
"Is that what he's done?" she challenges. "Has he actually taken things from you?"
I think about it. Really, honestly think about it.
He's cooked elaborate meals for me. Let me invade his personal space without complaint. Protected me from dangerous men. Made me feel things I didn't think I was capable of feeling.
What has he actually taken from me?
"I don't know," I admit reluctantly.
"Then maybe," Gia suggests carefully, "you should find out before you burn it all down just to prove you can."
She leaves me there, alone with my increasingly complicated thoughts.
And with the deeply uncomfortable realization that maybe—just maybe—I'm not the one in control anymore.
Maybe I never was.
That night, I lie in bed and stare at my phone in the darkness.
At the message from Santino: Tomorrow then. My place. 7pm.
Tomorrow, I'll see him again. Talk to him. Pretend like everything's fine.
But everything isn't fine at all.
I'm attracted to him. More than attracted—I'm falling for him.
And that was never part of the plan.
The plan was to make him miserable. To drive him away. To save my birthright.
But Papa's words keep echoing in my head:I'm protecting you. This is the only way to keep you safe.
And Dorothy's:Don't run before you know for sure. That's just cowardice dressed up as strategy.
And Gia's:Maybe he'll surprise you.
I turn off my phone, plunging the room into complete darkness.
Tomorrow, I'll figure it out. Tomorrow, I'll make a decision.
Tomorrow, I'll decide whether to keep fighting or to surrender.
But tonight, I let myself remember without guilt.
His hands on my skin. His mouth claiming mine.
The way I felt, just for a moment, like I was exactly where I belonged.
Chapter 14: Santino
