Page 41 of Sinful Attraction

“Well, I just... I have to make some big life changes, and I need someone to bounce things off of.” I try to keep my voice steady and positive—anything to avoid sounding like a whiner. But under it, I’m scared and lonely, and everything feels uncertain.

“Wait... are you finally leaving your parents?”

Lisette doesn’t know my family is involved in the mob, but she does know how rough things have been on me, even if I keep a big chunk of the details from her. She knows I’ve struggled between loyalty and my own needs for a long, long time. I can’t blame her for the excitement in her voice.

“Yeah... yeah, I am,” I admit and smile tentatively. It feels strange on my face. I wonder who I’m smiling for, but it does make it easier to keep my tone optimistic. “It’s just a lot, and I feel like I barely know what I’m doing.”

“Honey, you’re a PhD. I think you know what you’re doing.” She sounds amused by my attack of self-doubt.

“Uh, sure, when I have a computer in front of me. But I’ll have to find a job, find a place, figure out health insurance, budget... it’s just this huge list, you know?”

“Oh. Oh, I get it. Arya, you’re not incompetent; you’re just overwhelmed. I know all of this is new, but so was going through school without your parents’ support when you first started. If there’s part of it you need help with, I’ll do what I can, but don’t sell yourself short.”

Now, my smile feels tight on my face. She’s trying to help, but everything she’s saying sounds like a platitude.My mood must be in the toilet right now.

At least she’s offering real assistance with something. “I need you to put out feelers in the community. I want work in the field, whether I’m monitoring system security or fixing laptops. Can you do that for me?”

“Oh, that? Oh, hell yes, I’ll put the word out. Even if I can’t get you a position, I know I can get you a freelance project.”

I take a deep breath, glad that I’ve kept calm in spite of how I’m feeling. “Okay. That would be a great start. Can we talk more later? I’m guessing this isn’t the best time.”

“Oh... yeah, no, I’m cooking. I’ll put word out as soon as I’m back at my computer, though, and call you back... say tomorrow, late afternoon?” I hear her fridge open and close.

“Sounds great. And thank you. I’ll see about some food and get a nap in.”

“Take care, honey.” She signs off, and I set my phone back on the table, checking the time as I do so. My room service order is taking a little while.

That’s fine. My stomach is in a knot from how close I’ve come to losing my temper at my friend when I need her help. I need food, rest, and sleep before I deal with anyone else, or the crappy way I’m feeling may mess with those interactions, too.

I’ve caught it in time. That’s what matters. But now, I’m trying to avoid getting unreasonably pissed about the slow room service.

By the time everything comes, I’m so hungry that I could have eaten cheap fast food and found it tasty. It even tastes pretty good, and I manage to relax after drinking some of the wine.

And I’m still missing Michael.

My constant, simmering anger at my family barely ever eases without alcohol. My fears about the future nibble at me all the time, with only the slightest reminder needed to stir them up. But my anger at Michael slips away when I think of him now, and it’s not just the wine.

Slowly, slowly, I’m forgetting why I’ve taken what he said so hard, why I’ve gotten so upset, and why I need this break. It’s starting to look more and more like a typical argument caused by someone saying the wrong thing. And only that.

I’m just hurting so much from every other damn thing that it hit too hard for me to handle.

“How much of the shit I’m going through is really down to Michael anyway?” I ask the empty room suddenly.He might have screwed me over, but he is trying to make it up to me. Is my father doing that? My mother? Have any of them ever said “I’m sorry” and tried to make up for what they’ve done?

I’m two and a half glasses into a bottle of wine, and instead of being hazy, everything seems clearer than usual. My senseof vendetta seems to be slipping, but that doesn’t bother me as much now that I’ve realized this.

Is Michael my real enemy here? Especially if he makes good on his word?

I think about it for a while. And finally, I let out a sigh and reach for my phone.

Chapter 19

Michael

Arya is calling. She’s finally calling! I feel like jumping out of my skin when I see her ID on my phone. It’s been a rough day, thinking she might not talk to me again.

I pounce on the call in spite of myself. But then, I take a moment. I need to play it cool, not come off like some desperate asshole who is at her beck and call just because the sex is good.

“Hey,” I say as casually as I can manage.

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