Page 16 of Trapped

We’re embraced, waiting for the next song, when I recognize the melody. Before he can move us, I drop my arms from around his shoulders.

“I-I think I need to sit down.” I step back, avoiding his eyes. He doesn’t stop me as I make my way back to the table to find my purse and pull out my cell phone. It’s already one in the morning. The table is empty, and the crowd has thinned. I stand there staring at my phone when I feel rigid muscles behind me. I turn and the mystery masked man holds out a bottle of water.

“Thank you,” I whisper. His body is only inches from mine, so I step back. I open the lid and let the water comfort the dry ache in my throat. I try to drown out the song, but it doesn’t stop. I shut my eyes and take deep breaths.Find something to focus on.Open your eyes, and focus on anything but this song.

When I get my mind back under control, I open my eyes again. Midnight black eyes stare back at me through the holes of his mask. He doesn’t understand. Nobody does. There is a piece of my heart reserved somewhere that I’m not even sure I even believe exists. In some celestial realm. With him.With Silas.

The song playing is the one he sang to me the night of our wedding. This song belongs to us.No one else. I have been trapped so long in his memory that I am beginning to shut everything out. In my grief, I set up systems and rules that block anyone’s way into my heart. It’s how I honor him. It’s why I should have sat down after a few songs, but I had spent the night entertaining the man in front of me. He has no idea that I am damaged. Broken. Beyond repair.

I can fuck men; even him, if I wanted to. Men are easy to read, since they only want one thing. The only thing I can offer, and the only thing I want in return. But there is more intimacy in this man’s silence than I have ever felt anywhere else. Intimacy is toodeep. Something I cannot do. Not here. Not ever. Intimacy is the gateway drug to love. It breaks the confines of sexual pleasure. It would destroy me. I take the heat in his midnight eyes as a warning.Run.

I follow Thalia into the elevator and force the doors to close so it’s just the two of us. She steps back, unsure of her footing as she backs herself into the corner. The Rohypnol I placed in her water is taking its effect.

“What do you want from me?” She reaches into her purse with shaky hands and pulls out her gun.

“Who are you?” She makes out her frustration through shallow breaths. She closes her eyes and leans her head back to the wall. A single tear drop slips from her right eye. A tear I know belongs to me.

I move toward her and close the distance between us. I run my finger up her cheek. I stare at the drop of moisture. Desperate to taste her. I am dead to her, and yet, I am still a part of her. She was made for me, and the mold didn’t break in my absence. The song had triggered her longing. I saw the battle in her eyes. The same eyes now opened and focused on me. I raise my finger to my mouth and lick her salty tear from it.

“Let me see your face,” she whispers. Her voice is sultry andsmooth. She licks her lips, and I want to rip off this mask and devour her.

Instead, I shake my head and cup her face. I wipe another tear that’s made its way to the corner of her lip with my thumb. I circle the outer corner of her lip. Her sleepy eyes frantically search mine. Our mouths are inches apart when she whispers her plea to me.

“Touch me.”Fuck.Her sultry voice makes me want to come undone. I start the elevator and move back to her side. She leans into me, and I hold her up. By the time we get to the thirteenth floor, her body has gone limp. I pick her up bridal style and move toward her penthouse, where Nero is waiting for me.

I carry her through the living room and into her room. I gently set her on the bed and take off her shoes. I take off the mask and set it on the end table and pull the covers over her. Something catches my eyes from the corner of the mattress. I tug at the end of the photograph peeking out. Once I’ve gently freed the photo, my chest tightens when I see a younger version of myself staring back at me.

I sit on the edge of the bed, examining the photo. I have one arm over Thalia’s shoulder and her hand is on mine. She’s looking straight at the camera, but I’m looking at her. I felt complete that day, like a lost part of me had found itself in her. I wanted nothing to do with the empire my father had built until I met her. I was willing to be whoever he wanted me to be if it meant I got to keep her.

From the moment she said “I do” at that altar, a carnal urge took over in me, that primal need to protect her. Thalia rustles under the sheets, and I tuck the picture into my jacket pocket. I look around her room, searching for anything to confirm my suspicions. Anything to convince me that she never cared. Even if she wasn’t a part of the plan to hurt my family in the past, I can’t help wondering if I can trust her now.

I open the door to her walk-in closet and see all black. All black clothes and all black shoes. It smells like her. The sweet scent of pomegranates fills my nose. I bring a cardigan to my nose just to smell it—desperate to be engulfed by her again.

Touch me.

Even now, her words echo inside me. She wanted me to touch her, and I was eager to do it. I search high and low for that box. The one box that every woman has. Filled with memories and keepsakes. While Thalia doesn’t seem the type to have a “Dear Diary, I still love Silas” journal in here, I know she has a box.

I walk farther into the closet, stopping in the far back where a large ceiling to floor gun vault sits. It’s clear, but requires a fingerprint to access the collection. There is also a safe inside the vault. Her box of secrets.What are you hiding in there, diablita?

Carefully, I exit the closet to find Thalia still sleeping. She’s on her side now, with the covers pushed off her. In between her legs is a pillow. Her chest rises and falls. That sweet smell of pomegranate fills the room. Slowly, I hook my finger into her panties and slide them down her legs. I bring the cotton fabric to my nose. I’m desperate to breathe in all of her, the sweetness of her arousal. I stay there, watching her. Time has robbed me of this.

I shove her panties in my pocket and slowly shut her door. My steps are light through the dark hallway. When I reach the living room, a small boy stares up at me. He doesn’t say anything. We stand there, taking each other in.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” I say. He doesn’t answer, but a small voice behind me answers for him.

“Luca doesn’t talk.” I turn around to see a little girl standing behind me. She’s wearing matching pajamas and appears to be the same height and age as the little boy. Something about twins appearing at night in hotels spooks me. I narrow my eyes to make sure it’s not a figment of my imagination.

“Are you the frog prince?” she says loudly. I put my finger to my mouth to quiet her. I move to the living room, and they both follow me.

“Are you the frog prince?” she asks again, her voice a whisper. “The one coming for Thalia?”

I drop to my haunches until we’re face to face. When I nod in response, she smiles. She holds tight to the little boy’s hand. Something about her expression pulls at me. Something about the way she watches over the little boy reminds me of my own siblings. Both our smiles turn to frowns.

“Are you going to take Thalia away from us?” she whispers.

Not yet.

I can’t get the masked man out of my head. When I woke up this morning, I got an earful from Olivia about letting a stranger into the penthouse with the kids. According to Nero, I forced my way past him despite his concerns. Once again, I have no recollection of what happened. All I remember is him. His dark eyes, and his tight embrace. I stare at the mask laying on my desk. The one he left on my nightstand. I was still in my costume when I awoke despite no panties. I’m not sure if we had sex, but surely my pussy would have been sore.Think, Thalia, think!

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