“Be careful. Please.”
There is too much in theplease. Too much fear. Too much trust.
“I will,” I say.
His hand slides over my waist, warm and heavy.
I put mine over it and snuggle into his side.
I will find something.
Because if I don’t, all my father has to do is wait. Eventually there will be a dress, a church, a man I didn’t choose, and a ring put on my hand like the final lock clicking shut.
35
LUCA
Natalia tracesthe bite mark on my shoulder like she’s memorizing it.
We should be moving. The clock on the nightstand says we’ve been here too long already, and every minute she’s not back inside her father’s house is a risk. But her fingertip keeps circling that little crescent of teeth marks, and I’m not built to be the one who saysstop touching me.
“I got you good,” she murmurs.
“You got me plenty of ways today.”
She smiles, small and private. Then it fades, because it has to, because this is the part where we remember what we’re doing and who we are.
“I need to go,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.” The word comes out rough. “I know.”
She pushes up and reaches for her clothes. I sit up too, helping where I can, tugging her blouse straight once she has it on,catching her wrist when her fingers fumble the button because I don’t want to stop touching her.
When she’s dressed, I reach for my jacket off the chair.
She watches me. “What are you doing?”
I pull the handgun from the inside holster and hold it out butt-first.
Her expression changes immediately. “What the hell?”
“For you.”
“No.” She takes a step back and shakes her head harder. “Absolutely not.”
“If something goes wrong over there, I need you to have something.”
“I am not taking a gun back into my father’s house.”
“It’s better than taking nothing.”
Her chin lifts, stubborn as hell. “Better for who?”
“For me,” I say. “Because I’d prefer not to go insane every second you’re in that place.”
“What if someone found it?” Her voice is firm. “How could I possibly explain?”
“Okay, fine.” I set the Glock on the dresser. “Figured you’d say that.”
