I don’t answer right away.
Because the truth is… she might be right.
* * *
Later that night, I sit alone in my apartment.
I haven’t been here for nearly three months. Everything is exactly how I left it, including the leftover lasagna on the counter that I apparently forgot to put away.
“Hm. I was supposed to have you for dinner after work.”
I pick it up and toss it into the trash.
I look around at the space I once loved. It’s clean, soft lighting, carefully chosen details meant to make it feel warm, and cozy just how I like it.
It should feel like home, but… it doesn’t.
Not anymore.
Because the truth is, even before I ended up in his mansion… the moment Salvatore walked into that library, something shifted. Something I didn’t understand then, but I do now.
He consumed me.
I sink back against the couch, my fingers curling into the fabric as memories creep in, uninvited and impossible to ignore. That night plays in my mind, the way my body reacted to him before I even knew his name, just… Sal. The way I lay awake afterward, restless, aching, wanting something I couldn’t explain.
Wanting him.
And now…
Now I know what it feels like when he actually touches me.
Not the version I imagined in the dark, not the safe, distant fantasy I could control, but the real thing. The weight of his presence. The way his hands claimed me.
It was more than I ever imagined.
More dangerous.
More consuming.
I close my eyes, pressing my lips together as heat floods through me. The memory of him, his length pressed against me, buried deep inside me, taking my body in ways I didn't even know were possible. The way he kissed me like a man starved, whispering he loved me against my mouth. The way he looked into my eyes while he drove himself to the hilt, unapologetic and possessive, claiming every inch of me like it was his right.
But it's more than that.
It's the way we sat together in the garden, in the quiet moments, when he encouraged me with that steady, unwavering voice. The way he trusts me with his darkest desires, peeling back layers no one else gets to see.
The envelope rests on the table in front of me.
Freedom.
A life that could be anything I want it to be.
All I have to do is walk away.
My fingers hover over it, trembling slightly.
I think about my mother’s advice.
Never give up your power.
