Page 66 of Violent Pawn

When I crack my door, tonight is sitting on the edge of my bed.

Those three shots must have destroyed me because there’s no way I’m sober. Sober people don’t see the object of their addiction—in my case, Anastasia—seated on the edge of my bed, still dressed from the party.

I rub my eyes, but nope, she’s still here. Staring at me with more vulnerability than I’d known her to possess within her gorgeous body. She’s fiddling with a pillow on her lap—protection, this much I presume.

As I step inside the room and shut the door, still not certain she’s physically here, her eyes slowly lift from the pillow to the floor by my feet. Then onto me, travelling up my body. She stops on my shirt, lingering by the collar.

“I’m sorry.”

I’m definitely drunk.

“Don’t be.” As much as I want to go to her, I don’t. I force myself to remain busy, as if my lungs aren’t working overtime to catch my breath, by sliding off my suit’s jacket and undoing my cuffs. “Don’t apologize. I took it too far. I’m the asshole.”

Her lips twitch, agreeing with me in her own way. “It isn’t your fault. I was the bitch. I ran when I should have stayed and explained.” Her shoulders curl inwards as she hugs the pillow tighter, nails embedding into the edges. “Your comment felt possessive.”

Because it was.

She waits until I cross the room, plug my cell in on my nightstand, and position myself in front of her. I’m lost in my own bedroom, but dragging over a chair feels stupid and sitting beside her might spook her. I’ll cut off my own hand before she bolts before this—whatever this is—finishes.

“When Vanessa overturned the old Bratva, I promised myself no man would never own or control me again. What you said out there brought it back. I freaked out and didn’t react well—didn’t communicate that—and I…I apologize.”

Her tone. Her eyes. Her frown. All have the power to drive me to my knees. I’d already be there if she didn’t continue.

“It wasn’t fair of me to run away.” Her head dips, hair falling between us.

It wasn’t fair of me to make you relive your trauma.

“I’m sorry. It’s nowhere near enough, but I am. I didn’t know.” I’ve taken something from her. Something I didn’t realize I had the power to steal.

She huffs lightly, fingers digging into the pillow I’m starting to grow jealous of. “No one besides Vanessa does. Old memories came rushing back, and it freaked me out.”

Old memories—She’s hinted at not having good prior relationships, but I never considered the extremes they might have affected her because I’m that kind of asshole, and I’ll acknowledge that now. To do better. To consider her individually.

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

It does, but pushing the case could bring us backwards from what the past few minutes gained, so I slide the argument away for a later day.

“I panicked,” she continues, now tracing the edge of the pillow. “I panicked because it’s not possible to ignore you any longer. I like you, Nero, and don’t know what to do about it because I don’t do…this.” Her nose scrunches. The very thought of being with someone not only foreign but unwanted. “You’re not someone to run away from, and I know that. I have to keep reminding myself of it.”

“You ran from me once. A decade later, you’ve come back.”

The reminder of our past cracks her resolve a bit, but I move before she finds a reason to escape before getting the chance to tell her the rest. I lower myself to my knees in front of her, placing myself entirely at her mercy. She could kick me, punch me, or even slit my throat while I’m unarmed, kneeling for forgiveness.

“You scare me too, Anastasia. I can’t stay away from you, no matter how much we both want me to. Even your hatred gives me something to latch onto.” I pause, chewing on the inside of my mouth while wishing hard for another shot to get me through this new kind of pain. “Do you trust me?”

Minutes pass. She picks at the pillow, scrunches her eyes, licks her lips—and then does it all over on rotation.

“I don’t know,” she finally admits in a hoarse whisper. “A part of me does. I think about it often. Then I get scared and realize I don’t. I’m trying to, Nero, I really am.”

I’ll take it.

Hesitant, I pry her fingers from the pillow to place her hand in mine. She’s colder than normal and feels smaller than ever as I bring her hand to my mouth to kiss the back of her knuckles. “I’ll wait forever if it means I gain your trust in the end. Take your time.”

She covers my hand with her other, frowning. “Unless it takes too long to get there.”

“Trust doesn’t have a deadline, cara mia.”