She can’t mask that look behind her eyes, though, the same indecision that runs through me like molten lava, burning, rearranging.
“Do you want a drink?” she asks as we walk into the living room.
“Yes, vodka if you have it. Where is your mother? I would like to say hello.”
Or rather, goodbye.
“Rob took her to the doctor,” she calls from the kitchen. “Which is really weird, if you ask me. He’s never been the caregiving type, you know? Not that I’m complaining, but still.”
She’s talking fast, as though to override the thousand unspoken things she would like to say.
“But with Rob, you can never be sure. Maybe he wanted company at the pool hall. Hell, it’ll do Mom some good to get out, anyway.”
She returns with the drink and I study her for the last time, taking a mental snapshot of her penetrating azure eyes, her open smile as though she is ready to take on the world, her expression that can almost convince me that everything will be okay.
“Thank you.”
I sip the vodka, bolstering my courage.
“You’re free, right? Ashley called. They dropped the charges.”
“Yes.”
“Then why …” She gestures at me. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
That is half right. I am about to become one—to her, at least.
“There is no use in delaying this,” I tell her. “I am going to pay you double the cost of the artwork, on the condition that we never see each other again.”
She looks like I slapped her across the face. “What?” she gasps. “Why?”
“Why?” I laugh deeply and toss back the vodka. I put it down heavily, the bang loud in the silence of the house. “Just think, Camille. This is not your world.”
“But you’ve been in danger from the start, right?” she presses. “Why now?”
“This won’t help either of us—”
“Erik!”
She glares, cheeks flaming. Leaving her is going to be like losing a limb, a piece of myself. Even now, the passion in her calls to me. I didn’t know I needed it, but now that I’ve had it, I don’t know how I’m going to live without her anymore.
“After everything we’ve been through, don’t you think I at least deserve the truth?”
I nearly reach across the table and take her hands. But it is a small step between that and finding her lips, to carrying her into the bedroom and kissing down her neck, over her breasts, down her belly and losing myself between her legs.
And then I would be truly lost.
“My parents were not killed in a home invasion,” I say. “The Italians arranged a hit on them because of my father’s involvement in the Bratva. They were brutally murdered by our enemies. I cannot let that happen to you, or to my child. You should move away. Take Angela, take your brother. I will cover all the expenses. Pick somewhere far, far away, where you will be safe.”
Somewhere I will not be tempted to visit.
I see the desire in her face, this new life clouding across her blue eyes like a reflection.
A pit opens in my belly. Disappointment?
I shove it deep down where a man’s feelings belong, where I should have kept mine to begin with.
“What would I tell our child?” she whispers, voice shaking slightly.
“Anything except the truth,” I reply, assuring myself that that is not rising panic I read in her now. “Let’s say his father was an accountant. He died in a car crash. A tragedy. Raise him well.”
She bites down.
“No, Erik, I won’t lie to our child. I just won’t.”
“You have to,” I growl. “Or he might track me down when he is older and put himself in danger. It is the only way.”
Gripping the arms of the chair, she laughs in exasperation. “Can’t this house ever be fucking normal? Just once, I’d like somebody to swing by for a coffee and a slice of carrot cake and not drop a fucking bombshell on their way out the door.”
I laugh despite my best efforts, feeling myself drifting deeper and deeper into wanting her, needing her.
“What are you thinking?” I ask when she stares off into space.
“The truth?” she smiles.
“Always.”
“I was just thinking how maybe I wanted this. I know I should take it. I mean, how often do opportunities like this come along? If I look at myself like somebody else, I could scream: ‘Take the damn deal, you stupid bitch! Keep your family safe!’ But, shit, Erik, the idea that you’d be happy never seeing me again … I don’t think I could handle that. Could you?”
She is trying to keep herself calm, but I see through the steady mask to the pain beneath. I never knew how much she cared about me. Now, it is agonizingly clear.
It cuts me deep.
“This is not about how I feel,” I say, but my voice sounds hollowed-out.
“When I was a kid, I’d climb on top of the toilet—there was a little window in the bathroom that looked out—and look down the street. I had this whole scenario laid out. One day, my dad would come walking up the driveway, a big gift basket in one hand and his suitcase in the other. He’d tell me he was away at work and that he’d never leave us, not really. I did that for years.”
She stands up and walks across the room, sliding down next to me. I try to hold onto my grim determination, but heat radiates from her as from a furnace.
I wrap my arms around her, pull her into my lap, and kiss her softly on the forehead.
“I am sorry, Camille.”
“I can’t do that to our child,” she whispers, and now her tears are dripping down my neck as she buries her face against me.
I am her shelter, her shield. I have never felt such biting purpose.
“Growing up without a father, it fucks people up. Big time. I—I need you, Erik. This baby will need you. But mostly… Mostly, I love you.”
My body goes stiff.
“Did you hear me?”
I grab her shoulders. There is
