Before I’ve fully processed that someone is in my apartment, I jump. Vin is on my couch.
His jacket is still on, he’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped, watching me with the same expression he had downstairs. Like he’s about to say something I don’t want to hear.
My anger flares again from where it’s been simmering just under the surface, all the things I could say to him stumbling over themselves in my head. Not one of them is anything he’ll actually hear, so instead of choosing one, I just say:
“Rosso.”
My safe word. My final, ‘everything stops here and now,’ ‘scene over’ safe word.
Vin’s jaw tightens. Something moves behind his eyes—not surprise, exactly, but challenge. He wasn’t expecting to hear a safe word in this context, here in my living room before he’s even said a word.
That’s the point.
I go into my bedroom and shut the door. I shower slowly, using all the scalding hot water until it starts to cool. I wash my hair, condition it, take the time I never seem to have to stand under the spray and breathe.
I don’t think about him, but I feel him. He’s right outside my door, and I’ve never felt calmer.
As I towel off, do my hair, get dressed, I don’t worry about the dinner service like I usually do. No details clutter my brain. I seemy steps for the rest of the night unroll in my brain like a path forward—no stress, no anxiety.
I put my hair up and tie my apron, check myself in the mirror. The chaos is about to overwhelm me again and I want to enjoy the moment.
When I open my bedroom door, Vin is no longer seated on my couch.
He’s gone.
26
VIN
Fuckingrosso.
It’s the only fucking thing she could have said to stop me today. The only thing.
When she goes into her room, shutting the door decisively behind her, I sit and listen to the shower water run. Everything in me wants to kick that fucking door down.
But she saidrosso.
I stand abruptly and pace. It takes about three steps to cross the tiny apartment, and I pivot on my heel starting again. She’s on the other side of that wall, naked, under the water. And I can’t get to her.
I stop and stare at the closed door. I have no option but to waitfor the water to turn off, which takes longer than usual. Listen to her get ready for work. Listen to the quiet between us.
Being here is a violation at this point. I want her to trust me. Ineedher to trust me.
Not sure how long the effects of the safe word should last, since she’s never used it outside of a sexual context before, but I’m pretty sure it lasts longer than a shower.
Fuck. I slip out the door, take the stairs down to the restaurant, and push out through the side door of the Arsenal into the cold.
Ronan is leaning against my car.
Not a surprise, really. I’ve been MIA for weeks, and his patience isn’t unlimited. He has his hands deep in the pockets of his wool coat, his breath coming out in pale puffs.
He’s alone, but how did he know where to find me? Does he have someone following me? I know I’ve had my head up Sophie’s ass for awhile, but I never stopped making sure she was safe. If there was a tail, I would have noticed.
Ronan doesn’t say anything until I stop in front of him.
“I heard you were in there.”
“You’re intel’s lacking. I’m not in there anymore.”
