The door handle starts to turn.
Cristiano’s head snaps toward the sound, and the look on his face is murderous.
“Get out,” he snarls. “No one comes in this room or you’re all fired.”
Footsteps retreat rapidly down the hall.
He turns back to me, and the murderous expression softens. “Do you know why I used to wait for you at the school gates every day?”
I should push him away. I should run. I squirm in his arms, but not very hard. “Because you’re controlling and obsessive and wanted to keep everyone who wasn’t you away from me.”
“Because the sky wasn’t blue until I was with my Mina.” He strokes his thumb across my lower lip. “The sun didn’t shine. The birds didn’t sing. I didn’t exist until I was with you.” His voice catches, just slightly. “I’ve been dead for five years without you.”
Thick, hot tears well up in my throat.
I ball up my fist and hit his chest, crying out in pain and frustration. The blow lands against solid muscle and expensive fabric, absorbed like it’s nothing. All my fury and fear and confusion can’t even make a dent in him.
“You can’t say things like that, Cristiano,” I whimper, tears collecting on my lashes.
“It’s true.” He dips his head to plant a slow, hungry kiss on my throat. “Tell me. Tell me how you’ve existed without me. It’s devastating to me, how alive you look. All the things you’ve done. How have you managed to go on living? Tell me your secret, because I don’t understand.”
“I have a child.” My voice comes out choked. “I have no choice.”
Envy flickers across his face. “He’s a beautiful little boy, Mina. A happy child. But of course he is.” He takes my face in his hands, cradling it like something precious. “He has you to love him.”
He kisses me.
It’s not gentle. It’s not tentative. It’s five years of hunger compressed into a single moment, his mouth claiming mine with a desperation that steals my breath. I should stop this. I should remember the wardrobe, the belt, the blood on the car window.
I kiss him back.
A groan tears from his chest, and his hands slide into my hair, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss. His tongue strokes against mine, and heat floods through me, pooling low in my belly.
He pulls back just enough to speak against my lips. “How I envy him.”
“Who?”
“Your son.” He kisses me again, softer this time. “Having all of your love. Being the center of your world.”
He’s jealous of a four-year-old.
He’s jealous of his own son.
“I want you in my life.” He’s kissing down my jaw now, my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “I need you in my life. What can I do to convince you that I’m the only man you need? I’m asking, Mina. That was always where we fell apart. When I lost control and got carried away.”
“Carried away?” I try to laugh, but it comes out broken. “You were monstrous.”
“I am.”
He kisses me again before I can respond, swallowing my words, swallowing my protests. His hands slide down my sides,gripping my hips, pulling me flush against him, and I can feel how hard he is through his expensive trousers.
What new manipulation is this, to just agree with me?
“Night after night,” he murmurs against my mouth, “I dream about how wet you got for me. Do you remember how you wrapped your fingers around my cock and stroked me?” His hand slides between us, cupping me through my pants. “Are you wet now, Mina?”
“No.” It’s a lie. We both know it’s a lie.
“Let me feel you,” he breathes.
