45


    CATERINA


    “It’s so good to have you back” Stephanie’s smiling from ear to ear, standing outside my cubicle as I finish getting my things together at the end of what had to be one of the longest days of my life.


    I feel like a different person than when I walked out of here on my lunch break thatst <b>day</b>. I thought I was going to sign a lease. Something so innocent, the sort of thing people do every day. I expected to return to my desk afterward, because why would I think otherwise?


    Now here I am, more than two weekster. It might as well be two years or two lifetimes. Since Ist walked out the door, I was hit by a car and rushed to the ER. I spent days in bed, trying to recover. I found out my best friend was being abused by her ex and was then kidnapped by mine.


    <b>And </b>now he’s dead, and the man who killed him might have also killed my mother.


    When I think of it that way, it’s no wonder I could hardly keep myself focused today. Everything seems so stupid and pointless. It’s not like I had a terrific opinion of my job before this, but now can’t imagine why anybody would want <b>to </b>spend their life sitting here, going over spreadsheets, wasting hour after hour.


    Is this what happens when a person realizes <b>they </b>could have died more than once? Is this my big turning point moment where I realize I need to shake up my entire life instead of wasting another minute doing something I hate?


    Right. Fat chance of that happening, especially when I’m living with my father. I’m surprised he let me out of the house to go work, but not very surprised since he still thinks <b>this </b>job is a big deal. Like I made a massive sess out of myself sitting in a gray cubicle all day long and slowly going blind while reading over figures until my eyes crossed


    The least I can do is offer Stephanie a smile and hope it looks sincere since it’s <b>not </b>like she did anything to hurt me. “You’re just saying <b>that </b>because you’re <b>d </b>you won’t <b>have </b>to cover for me anymore<b>,</b>” I tease her, winking.


    “<b>Okay</b>, I’m not going to pretend that has nothing to <b>do </b>with it.” Only she gets serious right away, <b>and </b>b nile slips.” Honestly, though. It’s good to have you back. You gave us <b>a </b>scare.” Girl, you have no idea how much sca…… things got.


    I know she means it, even if I can’t imagine why. I haven’t been here that long. I still have to get used to the idea of people genuinely liking me and not just putting up with me because I tagged along behind Tatiana, who was always more popr and better at making friends.


    “Let’s see if I can make it two days in <b>a </b>row.” I hold up my crossed fingers andugh it off, even if inside I’m shaking. I have to do this again tomorrow. How the hell am I going to get through the rest of my life this way?


    Especially when all I seem to do is think about Gianni all day long <b>instead </b>of keeping my mind focused on work.


    Immediately, I stop myself before allowing him to epass my thoughts yet again, and rece memories of him with those of my Mom. The way she took me trick–or–treating alone since Dad <b>was </b>always working that night<b>. </b>Our Saturday afternoons <b>at </b>the movies. Learning how to bake bread from scratch, though Ipletely forgot that one after a little while. How she always smelled like flowers, how sheughed–rich, hearty, almost bawdy. Like there was a dirty joke she was just dying to tell somebody. I grin at the reminder of it while walking to the elevator


    She is who I need to be thinking of now. How can I feel otherwise? Aching for nni is pretty much the same as spitting on her memory. I still don’t know for sure whether Dad is right and Gianni is the one who killed her, but until I know, I <b>have </b>to at least try to remain neutral.


    Which means conditioning myself out of obsessing over him morning, noon, and night.


    I’m miserable, but that’s how it has to be. I hate this sense of this dark, ominous cloud following over me. Instead of rain, guilt and shame shower me all day long. I <b>can’t </b>believe I made it so easy for him to manipte me.


    The parking garage is mostly empty by the time I exit. A few people decided <b>to </b>stayte, but everyone else filtered out a little before me. Even with a backlog of work, I can’t bring myself to put in the extra time when I’m so sad, not to mention feeling overwhelmed. It’s not like I’m leaving early, anyway. I’m so wound up in my own thoughts<b>, </b>and need to get home that I <b>don’t </b>


    hear the door opening


    Or the echo of footsteps behind me.


    I don’t see him until he’s right behind me, his gorgeous face reflected in the window as I’m about to unlock the car door. Even if I want to scream, there’s no time to react. I’ve barely registered his presence when he mps a firm hand over my mouth, snaking his thick arm around my waist, before pudling me flush to bis muscr chest. Panic grips me by the throat. Is this where his true intentions are exposed and I discover that my father wasn’t lying?


    God, I hope not. This would be a terrible way to go.


    Somewhere in my mind, an rm goes off, and I finally struggle in his grasp.


    Fight. Don’t give up.


    “Fuck, it’s been too long since I touched you. Stop squirming, or 1‘ end up fucking you against the car door,” Gianni growls in


    <b>my </b>ear


    The deep timbre of his voice sends goosebumps across my flesh. Some of the fear and anger have receded, yet that doesn’t mean I’m not running away from this psycho the moment he releases me. The car door in front of me opens, and he releases me with a shove, forcing me to crawl across the seats.


    My hands slip on the cool leather as I put as much distance as I can between us. I didn’t recognize his car parked next to mine. Then again, I wasn’t paying attention. Stupid me. I should’ve known leaving the protective nest of my father’s house that he would track me down. A man like him refuses to let what he wants slip through his fingers, and apparently, I’m what he wants today. nni climbs into the backseat casually like he didn’t just abduct me. He smooths a hand through his dark hair, and I swallow around the knot in my throat


    <b>No </b>matter how handsome he is, I must remember that he’s not a knight in shining armor who <b>was </b>sent to rescue me. He’s the viin, only capable of putting his needs before others.


    “What is wrong with you?” I demand, my body trembling.


    Anger <b>and </b>fear battle it out. I want to punch him in his stupidly gorgeous face <b>and </b>run away. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I reach behind <b>me</b>, iling around while trying to find the door handle.


    “Child locks,” he grunts. “To keep little girls from jumping out of the car when they shouldn’t.”


    I wish God, how I wish–I could hate him. That sitting this <b>close </b>to him didn’t set off a fire in my soul. I wish I didn’t want to throw myself into his arms and bury my face in his neck and revel in his neamess. Being near him after days without him feels like I just took my first sip of water after going thirsty for days. My soul is refreshed even if my mind recoils with horroc


    I <b>find </b>my voice <b>again </b>while straightening out my blouse with shaking hands. “What the hell do you think you are doing? You can’t just show up at my work and force me into your car. There are cameras, and anyone could have seen. Are you trying to get the police <b>called</b><b>?</b>”


    “Do you think this is the first time I’ve grabbed someone and thrown them in the back of my car?” He lets out a chuckle, and I’m d he <b>does</b>, even if it terrifies me. It helps me harden my heart so I don’t make the mistake of begging him to take me back. I need to be strong, and that would be very weak of me. I have to <b>remind </b>myself that he did not tell me the truth about him still being married and might also be my mother’s killer.


    “I don’t care how many people <b>you’ve </b>thrown in the back of your car. Whatever <b>you </b>want to say to me can wait ull I’m ready to hear it.”


    “That’s the problem<b>. </b><b>I </b>couldn’t wait another second. I had to see you, had to see with my own eyes that you’re okay.” That snide, teasing note calling from his voice is reced by something that could be mistaken for tenderness.


    I know it’s not real. It <b>can’t </b>be. Nothing about him is real. If it were he wouldn’t <b>have </b>so casually lied to me about his marriage, making me believe what we had was real.


    “I’m fine. I’m back at work, living my life. Thank you for asking “ggle the handle, ring at him, pressing myself against <b>the </b>door when he moves <b>closer</b>. The heat of his body radiates through me. If he gets any closer, I risk giving in to him, and i


    can’t have that. “Now let me go. I need to get home.”


    He lowers his brow, his eyes like burning embers. I <b>should </b>look away. Only I’d still feel their heat burning if I did. “There’s no running away from us, Caterina. You’re not going anywhere until we talk about this,” he rumbles, leaning in close enough <b>that </b>all I can smell is the intoxicating scent of his cologne. Cinnamon and cloves. With him this close, it bes harder to remember how bad of a man he is, and instead how good he could make me feel


    “<b>See</b>?” With both hands, I <b>shove </b>against his chest as <b>hard </b>as I can, even managing to put a little room between us. Straightening my shoulders, I let the proudness envelop me. His eyes widen with surprise, but it’s not enough to keep him from reaching out to ce a hand against my knee. I smack his hand away and shake my head. “I have to wonder if you’re crazy or just psycho? What would make you believe <b>that </b>I would allow you to touch me after the bombshell that was revealed? How can I trust you? None of this is <b>real</b><b>. </b>We’re not real, and showing up at my work and forcing me into the back of your car will not change that.”


    Even now, I know I’m lying to myself. Everything about us is real. I just don’t want to admit it right now because I’m angry. I’ve been duped, made a fool of. Everything I know about him, everything that might be true, it all dissolves when I’m with him. Breathing him in, staring into his eyes <b>which </b>glitter with an intensity I’ve never seen in anyone else’s. The way he looks at me, there is nothing like it.


    I want him to touch me. I want him to be honest with me. I want him to tell me my Dad is wrong. I want him to make everything go away and tell me it’s going to be okay.


    Mom. Think of her. Think of the lies and how he made you feel.