Page 37 of The Devil's Den

“Try me.”

With another tug of an inhale, her eyes align with mine, and the emotions within them cause me to still. “I’ve thought of marrying you one day,” she finally admits, and my heart swells because I want that too. “Living in a house big enough for us and Robby, maybe a few kids of our own. We’re hugging on the sofa while they play, making too much noise, but we don’t care, because we’re happy. Together. Finally, the way it should be.”

“Do we kiss a lot? Because I plan to kiss youallthe time.”

“We kiss like mad,” she breathes, rubbing her nose with mine.

I groan, my palm landing on the back of her head, tugging her closer. “Yeah, I like this fantasy. A lot. And marrying you…” I brush my nose down her neck. “…is on the top of my list.”

She sighs, her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me up, her lips capturing mine in a greedy kiss, her tongue sweeping into my mouth.

I pitch back, both of us breathless.

“One day, we’ll have it all.” But even as I say those words, I don’t know if I believe them. It’s a damn dream. But sometimes, dreams are all we have in the nightmares of our reality.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

AIDA AGE 19

I promisedRobby we’d attempt to make the highest tower we can from the big blocks Ms. Greco got him. We decided to build it in the spacious hallway upstairs. That way there isn’t a mess if my father comes home early.

These days, he likes to surprise me. I think he does it on purpose, wanting to catch me doing something I’m not supposed to.

Ms. Greco’s downstairs making chicken parmesan for dinner before the almighty lord arrives and demands his plate.

“It’s as big as me now!” Robby shouts excitedly.

My eyes widen and I grin. “We should make it even bigger!”

“Yay!” He claps, skipping toward the bag full of blocks, and bringing them over, placing one on top of the others.

We continue building for a few minutes longer when the front door opens with a creak before slamming shut. I gasp, any breathable air evaporating from my lungs.

“I’m sorry, Robby,” I whisper. “We have to clean up quickly.”

“But I wanna play,” he whines, while my quivering hands start taking off the blocks as fast as possible, throwing them into the bag. If my father sees this, he’ll be furious.

“I know you do,” I say quietly. “But we can play later, okay?”

“No!” he cries with a scream, stomping both feet so hard, the floor shakes. “I want to play!”

“What the hell is that noise?” My father storms up, and my pulse races, blocks slipping from my fingers as my entire body rattles.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouts as he reaches the top step. “What the hell did I tell you about making a fucking mess of this house?”

Robby’s eyes pop wide and he runs into our room and shuts the door. Thank goodness.

“I was cleaning it,” I tell him, trying to remove every damn block, timidly glancing up, my heart ripping out of my chest and riding up my throat.

“This is what you call clean?” He stomps closer, kicking the rest of the tower, blocks scattering everywhere.

“I’m so fucking sick of you and your disrespect,” he grits, crouching down until we’re face-to-face, his hand reaching for my neck, tightening his fingers until my skin burns with a violent ache. “You’re more trouble than you’ve ever been worth.”

My breaths heave, my throat in agonizing pain, but he only clutches tighter.

“I should’ve gotten rid of you when I had the chance.” And still, after all these years, his rejection of me hurts. To know I never meant a thing to him.

I blink back tears that swim deep in my eyes, staring at him, wondering what I ever did to make him hate me this much.