"You hardly know me." She firms her lips. "We’ve met just a handful of times, and hardly spent any time with each other. You have no idea what I’m capable of."
"I’ve seen you with your daughter. It’s clear how much you love her. That you’d do anything for her."
"That’s just the thing. There are some things I don’t have any control over."
She shoves the door of the vehicle open and springs out. She runs up the steps to her building, opens the door, and is inside before I round the car. I sprint up the steps to the entrance and grab the door before it closes. Entering the lobby, I allow my eyes to adjust to the light. Then, I catch sight of her down the hallway, rounding the corner. When I make the turn, her door is closing, and I hear the click of the lock engaging.
I bang on the door. "Open the door." I jiggle the handle. "Open it, Elsa, or I swear, I’ll kick it in." I put my shoulder to the door and push. It shudders. I step back, and am about to plow into it, when it’s wrenched open.
12
Elsa
I spin around and walk toward the small room with pink walls, aware he is on my heels. My foot brushes against something soft. I pick up a teddy bear and toss it into the play area, then bend again to retrieve the doll she was playing with earlier. Tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes, and I wipe them away. What’s the use of crying now, when the fact that Avery is not with me is no one else’s fault but my own?
I rub the back of my hand against my nose, then tuck the soft toy under my chin. I hear his footsteps behind me. The heat of his body envelops me and a shiver spirals down my spine. This… right here… It’s a complication I can do without. What the hell was I thinking, allowing him to get anywhere close to me? Why the hell am I not able to control myself when it comes to him?
I was doing so well. Stayed away from anything that could complicate my life. But one look at him that one time at the nightclub, and something came over me. I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind. I lay awake nights, thinking of him. Allowed myself to get myself off as I imagined him peering into my face—those big, blunt fingers of his sliding across my skin as he buried his face between my legs and bit down on my clit while he gripped my hips and held me in place when I tried to wriggle away.
He touches my shoulder, and I shudder.
"Don’t, please." I pull away, drop the toy in the play area, then walk to the window.
Footsteps approach, then the heat of his body sears my back, and I know he’s standing behind me.
"Princess," his low voice rumbles. The vibrations sink into my skin and arrow all the way down to my feet. I flinch.
"What do you want? Why are you here?"
"I’m worried about you."
"Don’t be. Why don’t you leave, and do whatever it is you Sovranos spend your time doing?"
"You mean shooting down my enemies, and spending nights with different women."
"Exactly." I wipe the tears from my cheek.
"Thought you’d have better sense than believing the cliche that Hollywood has painted of us Mafiosos."
"Are you trying to tell me you're different?"
He hesitates.
"That’s what I thought." I try to brush past him, but he grabs my wrist. Goosebumps pepper my skin and my entire body shudders.No, no, no; this is so wrong.I can’t allow my body to react with such intensity every time he touches me. I raise my gaze to his, and in his golden-brown ones, I see concern and something else I don’t dare define. I can’t allow him to care for me. That would simply make this entire arrangement untenable. It’d soften me toward him even more, it’d dissolve all the defenses I’ve built up against the world. It would put me in a situation I’d never be able to get out of. And I can’t afford that. I have to save the best parts of me for my daughter and I won’t be able to do that if I begin to lose myself again.
"I’m a masochist"
He blinks. "What?"
The words spill out of me like grains of sand from an hourglass. "I like to be spanked; I like to be beaten. I like to be blindfolded, then tied up with my legs spread wide apart, and brought to the edge over and over again. I like to be owned. I like to be told what to do. I like to have my choices taken away from me, and be directed every second of my waking life. I want to be in a twenty-four-seven Dominant-submissive relationship. I crave it so much that I went into therapy to find a way to control my urges. I met Fabio when he was stationed in London on a project for the Italian police. I knew the only way he would marry me was if I didn’t reveal my submissive tendencies. By then, I had managed to control my urges enough that I could stay loyal to him, and have an ordinary relationship. I stayed that way until Avery was born."
"What happened after her birth?"
"I had post-partum depression. I found myself, once more, craving the lifestyle." I shuffle my feet. "I managed to curb it until she was a year old. Then, when Fabio was away on a trip, I had my babysitter stay the night, and I visited an S&M club. There, for the first time since even before her birth, I felt like myself. I finally felt grounded and alive. After that, I began to visit the clubs frequently. All of my hard-won control was gone."
His jaw tics and a nerve throbs at his temple. "Did you sleep with other men?"
"No." I lock my fingers together in front of me. "You have to understand that I was always faithful to him, even if he wasn’t to me, but I couldn’t stop myself from being there, and watching what was happening. Even if it wasn’t me being bound, seeing someone else getting off that way helped.” I draw in a breath. "One day, I returned from a club to find that Fabio had arrived home early from his trip. It was clear, from the way I was dressed and how I smelled, what I had been up to. That was the first time he hit me."