Her lips part with the mumble of a single word that should drive me far, far away—except I’m compelled to make her repeat it. And repeat again. And again, in ways that aren’t at all a sleepy mumble, but rather, a moan.
“Lev.”
Despite the desires that make me feel like I could take on the world, I rest my hand on her shoulder to wake her and get her out of here before making a big mistake. Before I throw myself on my own knife.
“Fina, wake up.”I can’t have you here.
There are lines to be laid. Lines her siblings havealreadylaid. Lines I need to stay way the fuck behind.
She continues sleeping, looking entirely innocent, like she isn’t destroying a man’s soul by existing.
Giving up, I tug the textbook from her hand and recline her backwards, retrieving a pillow and blanket, all while both hoping and dreading the position change wakes her. I dim the lights and back away, already regretting not shaking her awake.
Regret it…because I don’t regret her presence. Not at all. Not anymore.
Seeing her warm and comfortable, inmyspace—my second bed, essentially—does something inexplicable to me. Something that makes my finger tap faster than ever while every sense of overstimulation is miraculously wiped away…all byher.
With a firm shake of my head, I turn for my desk, knowing if I was really wise, I’d shut the lights off, go to my room, and leave her down here. But I’m not smart. Serafina makes me stupid. She unsettles me in ways no other woman ever has. In ways I neverwantedanother woman to.
I lower onto my desk chair and open one of a few preferred PC games, one where the sound isn’t important because, despite owning headsets, I’d rather not miss a second of my stupidity; of every sleepy sound she’ll make. Each one will be yet another decibel condemning me for not sticking to what I swore to Vanessa our first day here.
An hour passes before she makes noise—a slight whimper, causing me to tap pause on the game. By her second whimper, she jolts me back to her side.
“Fina?” I lightly touch her shoulder, and she immediately snaps awake, staring at the ceiling and then me. Her breathing’s rapid but slows as she sits up.
“S-sorry. I think I fell asleep.” She scans the blanket, her brows dipping, but if she realizes I’m the one who put her in that position, she doesn’t comment.
“Nightmare?”
“Alessio.” The sound of his name on her tongue sends familiar regret through me—regret I didn’t end his sorry fuckinglife when the opportunity presented itself. “It doesn’t even make sense. I was rememberingthatnight, and suddenly, I’m in a church, in a wedding dress and—and you’re there. And Vanessa, and Zeno, and Nero, and Anastasia. And so many people. And Alessio. There’s chains around my wrists, and he’s holding the other end and?—”
“Hey.” It’s without thought I cuff her wrists with my hand, despite what she’s described. It ends her ramblings, which is precisely what I needed so my head could cease picturing Vitale’s death.
“I know it’s ridiculous.” She jerks, and my fingers slowly unpeel from her so she can fix the hair falling into her face. “He didn’t actually rape me, so?—”
Once again, sheneedsto stop talking, to stop diminishing her own traumas. “Hey,” I repeat, “it’s okay. He took advantage of you, and that’s no small thing.”
For once, I wish it wasn’t me by her side, but someone like Vanessa or Anastasia. Even her brother. Someone who’s better at understanding emotions to talk her through this, because I have nothing. Comforting people is…odd.
“Has this happened before?”
“Kinda, but not about him. For the first few days after the kidnapping, I kept dreaming Ivan’s face. I haven’t since school began. Maybe because you were next door?”
Blyat.She’s been through so much shit lately.
“How am I going tomarryAlessio?” she whispers harshly, sparking more rage inside me. “If Z can’t break the contract, that’s my future.”
“No one here will hand you over to him.”Me included.
Doubt swirls in her eyes. I’ll do anything to erase it, to prove she’ll be safe—even admit what’s in my head.
“On my vows as a Bratva Elite…as your friend, IswearI’ll kill him before you march down the aisle to him.”
Her tongue makes a small appearance, wetting her bottom lip. It’s an act my dick notices all too well, not having gotten my multiple messages that she isn’t for us.
“We’re friends?” she breathes.
We’re something.We shouldn’t even be friends, but to continue denying it, to push her away, is like fighting the constant buzzing in my head. Impossible and draining.
