"I know you’re not completely indifferent to me,” I went on.
She narrowed her eyes. "That’s right. Remember that I still hate you."
Reality was returning. Family. Home. Chiara. Aurora stared at the phone again. This time she looked terrified. Not of me. Of what waited on the other side.
Her voice dropped. Small enough that most people would've missed it. "What if she's angry?"
The question surprised me. Because for one second she didn't sound like Aurora Ventura. She sounded eighteen. Scared. Lost. Human. I stepped closer. Not enough to trap her. Just enough.
"Troublemaker." Her eyes lifted. "If Chiara Ventura is angry tonight... It sure as fuck isn't with you."
Chapter Eight: AURORA
Thecallended.Andsomehow I felt worse. For several seconds, I just stood there staring at the dark screen in Santino's hand. My sister's voice still echoed inside my head. Like she'd been trying to pull me home through the phone. Like if she just said my name enough times, I'd magically appear back in Leo's penthouse. Back where I belonged. Back where everything made sense, because it was all decided for me.
Instead I was standing inside a glass prison on the edge of a cliff while a storm swallowed the ocean. My life had officially become ridiculous.
The silence stretched. Heavy. Awkward. Dangerous. I became aware of Santino watching me. Again. Always watching me. The man stared at me the way starving people looked at food. The way collectors looked at priceless paintings. The way lunatics looked at the final piece of their obsession.
It should have frightened me. Instead it just made me angry. Which was probably a character flaw. "You can stop now."
His eyebrow lifted. "Stop what?"
"The staring,” I hissed.
"I wasn't staring,” he said.
I laughed. A short, disbelieving sound. "You absolutely were."
"I was making sure you didn't spontaneously disappear."
My jaw dropped. "What?"
He shrugged. "I wouldn’t blame you if you left. Although I’m surprised you haven’t tried escaping yet."
"It has been half a day,” I hissed.
"You've had a productive and busy schedule?” His brows shot up.
I hated him. I hated how quickly he could make me forget I was supposed to be furious. I hated how every conversation felt like a fight and a joke at the same time. Mostly I hated that I was beginning to understand him. That felt dangerous.
The truly terrifying thing wasn't that Santino Moretti was a monster. It was that sometimes he seemed human. And human monsters were always worse.
Rain slammed against the glass walls. The storm had finally arrived. Lightning flashed over the ocean. For a split second, the entire guest house turned white. Then darkness swallowed everything again.
Santino looked toward the windows. "You should sleep."
I stared at him. Then started laughing. Not because it was funny. Because it wasn't. Because if I didn't laugh, I might cry.
"You shot my fiancé. You kidnapped me. My family is probably losing their minds. And your contribution is sleep advice."
For the first time all evening, Santino actually looked offended. "I give excellent sleep advice."
I blinked. Then blinked again. "Incredible. You're genuinely insane."
A grin appeared. There it was. The grin. The one that should've been illegal. The one that made me want to throw things. The one that made me irrationally aware that he was attractive.Which was deeply unfair. Because attractive people shouldn't be allowed to commit crimes. That felt like a reasonable law.
Eventually he left. Or at least he claimed he was leaving. With Santino, those were two very different things. The glass door slid shut behind him. I was alone. Really alone.
