Page 90 of Coerced Kiss

I’m riveted by the scene in front of me. If she licks her lips like that, I can watch her eat weird food all night. “I’ll have to make more then.”

“Yes, please. I’m on board. If it’s not too much trouble.” She adds quickly, “After all, you have to eat too.”

“Right.” And I’ll happily eat spaghetti and marinara sauce every night if it makes her and the baby happy.

She pushes her empty bowl aside and rubs her stomach. “I can’t have another bite.”

“Feeling better?”

“That was exactly what I needed.” Her smile is shy. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad I could be of assistance.” Taking her hand, I help her to her feet. “Next time, wake me up.”

She pulls free. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snooped around, but I didn’t want to disturb your sleep.”

“One, there’s nothing to be sorry about. You’re living here. What’s mine is yours. You’re free to eat and cook and do what the hell ever you please in this house. Two, you can never disturb me. I thought the worst when I found you gone.”

“Really?” She tilts her head. “Where would I have gone?”

Instead of telling her about those ugly scenarios that embedded themselves in my psyche, I say, “Just wake me up, okay?”

She frowns, but she doesn’t argue.

“Good girl. Now back to bed with you.”

“Let me tidy?—”

“The cleaners can take care of it tomorrow.” I point at the door. “Go.”

She goes obediently, sneaking a look at me over her shoulder.

In the silence that follows after her exit, I lean my palms on the counter and hang my head between my shoulders.

I’ve been through some scary shit in my life, but what I imagined tonight is at the top of that list with all the other gruesome scenes where I barely walked away with my life.

Did I overreact?

Yes and no.

I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions, but I couldn’t take a risk either. I know how badly Luigi wants to put a bullet in Anya’s head. Our snitch in the force confirmed the forensics team didn’t find anything on the murder scene that could tie the homicide to Giorgio or me. In time, I won’t need an alibi because I won’t be a suspect. That doesn’t mean something won’t come up in the future. I’m not taking that chance. Luigi, on the other hand, thinks letting Anya live is a bigger risk. Sooner or later, he’ll insist that I finish her, and if I don’t comply, he’ll get someone else to do it.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

Anya

When my alarm goes off at seven, Saverio isn’t next to me in bed. The sound of running water comes from the bathroom. He must be having a shower after his run. I’m starting to learn his routine. His morning exercise is compulsory. He must’ve been up for an hour already, which means he never returned to bed.

The fact that he slept nothing is my fault. I kept him up with my cravings. I can’t help but feel guilty, but the wait was worth every second. I needed those tomatoes and Worcester sauce like I needed oxygen. I can’t explain it. I’ve never craved anything with such intensity. It was impossible to ignore.

I stretch and rub my eyes. It was close to six when I came back to bed. Yet despite the little sleep, I’m more rested than I’ve been since falling pregnant. It’s not only the comfortable bed and warm covers or the satisfying food that Saverio got for me. It’s much more than the absence of morning sickness and the permanent thirst that woke me several times a night. It’sfeeling safe here—protected—and that’s a scary notion, because I’ll never be safe in a killer’s bed.

The scene from last night plays off in my mind, how Saverio ran into the kitchen with a gun in his hands and that look I saw on his face the night he killed Mr. Lewis. His features were set into an expression of hard, cold calculation. He rushed into the room as if he were my savior and not the man keeping me here against my will. Yes, he was protecting his own interests—his alibi—but the more I get to know him, the more I believe he’ll honor our deal to keep me safe. For a price of course, that price being my silence and my lies.

I don’t want to think about the person that makes me. I can only think about my baby now. Dwelling on my sins isn’t conducive when I have a job to do. All I have to focus on is the task at hand.

One day at a time, remember?

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