Page 102 of Absolution

I keep listening to them chatting, playing something. Cecilia’s light voice. Christian’s grave murmur.

After I’ve put everything away, wiped every surface, and my kitchen is squeaky clean, I don’t know what to do, so I pour myself a glass of white wine, and then I just sit there by my kitchen table, paralyzed.

“Kerry.”

I almost tip the glass over from the surprise. “Hi. Yeah!”

“She’s sleepy. I should—” He glances over his shoulder, and then back at me, his eyes unreadable. “—be on my way.”

In my mind I grab him and beg him not to go. In the real world, I force a smile. “Okay. I’ll follow you to the door.” I veer off to pick up Cecilia on my way, hitching her up on my hip. “Wanna say bye to daddy?”

“Daddy,” she says and reaches for him.

Christian takes her hand, but his eyes are trained on mine. My heart speeds up as the air thickens. Yeah, this is not gonna go well.

“Ker,” he licks his lips and my eyes follow his tongue. His gaze falls to my mouth, and then back up to meet my eyes again. He clears his throat. “Thank you.” He takes a step back.

“Wanna come again?” I blurt out.

His skewed smile makes my heart skip a beat. “I plan to.”

When he has left, I put Cecilia to bed, and then I pour a second glass of wine. And a third. I’m shaking.

Slightly hungover the next morning, while boiling water for tea, I get a text message.

We should talk. Call me.

It’s from Salvatore. My heart rate skyrockets and my mouth turns desert dry in an instant. The memory I’ve tried to suppress, his black eyes, the glare with a promise of pain, after I hit him, comes back with full force. It knocks the wind out of me, and I stumble back until the back of my knees hit a kitchen chair and I sit. My hands shake.

Fuck.

Suddenly I want Christian, but I can’t use him as a shield between me and everything that isn’t right in my life. In many ways he’s part of the problem.

I text back, autocorrect messing up everything I write, but finally I manage a few words.

Can’t now. Later.

It delivers. Is read. A message is being written, interrupted, then the phone rings. My gut clenches hard. Salvatore.

“Yes,” I gasp, out of breath as if I’ve been running a marathon.”

“Miss Jackson. I’m not used to people telling me no.”

“Then maybe you should learn some patience.” Fuck no! “I mean—”

“You are to arrive at my place in one hour. One of my men will pick you up.”

“I—”

The line is dead. My body goes slack with raw fear. He’s not beyond hurting a woman. Luciano Salvatore isn’t beyond anything. Every instinct screams at me to call Christian, but at the same time I have such a vivid feeling that I need to face this. It’s my actions that put me here and I have to grow some balls and just do this. I’m not waiting, though. I refuse to just sit idle until some goon comes by and pulls me with him.

I stand and dart out into the living room. “Ce, we’re going to Grandma.”

She perks up and stands. “Gramma!”

I run up the stairs and put on jeans instead of my soft pants.

In the car I call Mom, making sure she’s home. She hears something is off, but what can I say? Nothing. As usual.

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