Page 19 of His Tesoro

Fuck. I had to stop. This was dangerous. Purposeless. The whole reason I’d agreed to this marriage was for the alliance. The arrangement was supposed to be simple, straightforward. I never mixed business with pleasure.

I cleared my throat. “I have work to do.”

Sofiya’s quiet “thank you” followed me out of the gym.

Her sweet scent haunted me into the shower.

The image of her tits in that tiny top played in front of my eyes as I stroked my cock.

I came embarrassingly fast.

I needed to get laid, or I was in serious danger of making a move on my wife.

12

SOFIYA

My cheeks were wet with tears when I woke, and nausea churned in my stomach. I took a deep breath and wiped my face. The room was completely dark—no sunlight streamed through the crack in the curtains—telling me it was the middle of the night.

I’d gone to bed early, unable to stand the oppressive loneliness of the apartment any longer. Matteo had escaped after our time together in the gym, and I hadn’t seen him for the rest of the day.

I hadn’t seen anyone.

I’d puttered around the apartment. Watched some TV. Tried and failed to find an interesting book to read in Matteo’s library. Even my favorite romance—a well-worn book written in the eighties with a dramatic clinch cover—couldn’t keep my attention. Mila and I had found a stack of romance books in the attic a couple of years back in a box belonging to our baba—our maternal grandmother. I’d left most of them with Mila, but I couldn’t resist bringing this one with me. I’d tried reading some of my favorite scenes, but my attention kept wandering. Reading about love just made me feel empty right now.

By 8:30 p.m., I’d been so bored out of my mind I’d taken a long bath and then gone to sleep.

Until my nightmare woke me.

I pushed myself up to a seated position, cringing at the way my pajamas clung to my sweaty skin. There was no way I could fall back asleep now.

I was used to nightmares. I’d had them since I was a child, although they didn’t happen as often when Mila slept in my bed. I’d never admitted that to my sister because I didn’t want her to feel guilty if she chose to sleep in her own room. She shouldn’t have to take care of me. But she’d found her way to my bed most nights. Maybe we both needed each other.

Here, in the vast, silent apartment, it seemed like my nightmares were my only consistent visitor.

I pushed myself to my feet, leaving my rollator and wheelchair behind as I slipped out of my room. Soreness was sinking into my muscles after my morning workout, but I didn’t want to use a mobility aid and risk making noise.

I stood in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do. I didn’t want to be in this apartment anymore. I needed space to breathe.

I headed to the window leading out to the fire escape and slid it open. A rush of chilly air hit me and I grabbed a blanket off the couch before returning. I eased my way out of the window, praying all my joints stayed in place, and then my butt landed on the cold metal.

I grinned.

The fire escape landing looked over the city. Lights twinkled below me, cars still filling the streets. It made me feel less alone to know I wasn’t the only one awake right now. Something about sitting on a fire escape seemed so freaking cool. If I had a phone, I would take a picture and send it to Mila.

After a while, curiosity got the best of me. We were on the top floor of the apartment, but metal fire escape stairs extended above me to the roof. A sense of adventure and maybe recklessness seized me. What was up there?

My knees creaked as I stood, but I ignored them. I would climb the stairs, consequences be damned. My body would just have to suck it up.

I walked slowly, careful not to trip on the blanket wrapped around me like a cloak. My smile widened when I reached the top. I could get on the roof. My wrists twinged as I pulled myself over a small ledge, scraping my palms against the rough concrete.

And then I was there. Standing tall above the city.

I’d expected something bare and industrial, maybe random pipes and utility equipment, but as I squinted into the darkness, I found something much more luxurious.

A few lights along the perimeter illuminated a large seating area to my left. A free-standing pergola covered a set of outdoor furniture that formed a circle around a metal firepit. To my right, there was a large, slightly raised slab. I couldn’t see it clearly in the dark, but I bet it was a helicopter landing pad. I recognized it from the medical shows Mila and I used to watch.

I headed towards the seating area, letting out a small squeak of excitement when I saw string lights wrapped around the pergola. I felt around until I found the outlet and plugged them in. The glowing light made the space feel cozy and highlighted a set of wooden planters lining this side of the roof. When I peered inside them, I didn’t find any plants, just dirt. It was probably too early in the year for gardening, anyway, with the city only just now yielding to spring. I dragged my fingers through the dirt. Maybe I could plant some things. Herbs for baking and cooking. Flowers for the dining room table.

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