I go back under. Emotion grips my throat until I can’t breathe. I shake against him but not for long.
And then it’s gone as if it’s never been. Leaving me with the wreckage.
Kaiser is still here, petting me.
I feel empty.
“Better?” he asks.
I lick my lips. The tsunami came. It surged through me and left me gasping in the wreckage, but now it’s gone. I feel empty. It’s a welcome feeling.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He’s still rubbing my neck and shoulders. Squeezing hard the way I like. It feels good, a sensation to fill the space the sadness left.
“I don’t usually cry like that.”
“Maybe you should.”
I shake my head. I don’t like to cry. I cried a lot after my mom died and my dad explained she wasn’t coming back. I had intense, stormy tantrums, screaming for her, and my dad didn’t know how to handle them. He’d shut down, and my tears only sent him away. I remember him closing the door, shutting me in my room alone. I screamed “Mama” until I passed out on the floor.
Eventually, he hired a stern nanny who told me I needed to be good. I learned that Mama wasn’t coming and needed to keep the tears to myself.
Kaiser is still stroking my hair. I can’t look him in the eye.
“I’m a lot to take,” I say.
“I can take it.” He means it, I know this. He’s not running out of the room. He didn’t let me run away, either. Maybe he really does want it all. “Your father upset you.”
I press my lips together. My father can’t get through a family dinner without expressing his disapproval of me. I’ve gotten better at keeping my cool, letting his words roll off me, but today…
He’s leaving me alone. Locking me in this marriage. Now that I think of it, he’s probably been counting down the days until I was eighteen to do this. Marry me off, make me someone else’s problem.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“You don’t know him like I do.” If I could turn myself into a doll—pretty, pliant, quiet, and obedient—my father would be thrilled. I’d finally get his approval.
“He’s too hard on you.” Kaiser frowns.
It’s nice that he cares.
“He has high standards.”
“He should be proud of you.”
“You should tell him that,” I tease, smiling at the ridiculous thought of Kaiser storming into my father’s office to dress him down. The mafia man defending me to my own father.
“I will.”
Oh no. His muscles tense under me, like he’s about to hunt him down right now. He’s serious. “No, don’t. Don’t say anything, please,” I beg, horrified that he would actually do it. “Promise me.” I lift my hands to his face, but he grabs my wrist, stopping me from touching him. He moves so fast, I didn’t see his hands. I freeze.
He doesn’t like to be touched. I knew this.
But he relaxes and brings my fingers closer until they brush over his jaw. His lips. I shouldn’t like it, but I do. I stretch my fingers, touching as much as I can, greedy to feel the shape of his perfect cheekbones, the prickle of his stubble on my fingertips.
For a second, I forget what I was saying. Then I remember that I need to keep him away from my father.
