Page 31 of Ruthless Boss

I look at AJ, who sleeps peacefully in her crib.

She sighs, and I follow her cue.

Babies are the cutest thing in the world when they're not crying.

A wave of sadness sweeps over me. Motherhood was always a distant dream to me. So distant I never considered it. I'll never get pregnant or experience the changes in my body. Or hold a baby. Or be able to adopt a child.

Reality is cruel.

I've been in survival mode for so long. I never indulged in making vision boards or daydreaming. Freedom is my main goal, as it has always been. But I didn't think about how much I’d lost in the process.

Not that I'd have much to offer a child.

I'd hate to start life anew somewhere else, adopt a child—it'd never happen except in a fictional world—and have Ciro find out years later and kill us both. He's so sick he'd probably off the kid first and make me watch it.

No, I couldn't do that to anyone or anything. That's why I never considered owning pets, even though I love dogs and cats.

"Lucia."

I hear Dante's voice behind me.

He carries a glass of red wine and hands it to me. He has a serious expression.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, taking it from him.

In the past week, we’ve been able to communicate better. Since we vowed not to worry, a new door has opened on our relationship. I tell myself it's a temporary door, but at least now I allow myself to enjoy these moments with him without guilt.

His facial features soften. "Of course. Work stuff."

I don't ask much about his work. I doubt he'd want to tell me, but I'd like to hear about it. "Good stuff or bad stuff?"

A small smile curls at his lips. "A mix of both."

I nod and take another sip. This wine is delicious, like most of his beverages. Fancy alcohol isn't my specialty, but even I can tell when an expensive drink flows down my throat. "Why aren't you drinking? Are you planning on taking advantage of me?"

He lets out a chuckling sound that has a bitter edge to it. Maybe he could use some alcohol. "I need you to drink for what I'll do to you later."

A shiver of excitement laced with a dash of apprehension goes down my spine. The last few days have been wonderful. I've enjoyed the temporary respite from worries and fears, and I've decided to dive head-first into this doomed affair with him.

I know I'll have to leave—it’s the sensible solution for all involved.

I can't build a life here. I've taken too many wrong turns to follow the GPS of good choices. It’s too late. I have to go where I'll land and not second guess my decisions.

"Is that why you aren't drinking? So you'll be sober, and I'll loosen up?" I ask, taking another swig to make a point. This time, the liquid rolls down my throat even smoother, and my limbs feel incredibly light.

I look at him, and my field of vision shifts and blurs. I yawn, and when I open my mouth to speak, I can't. My eyelids feel heavy and close against my consent. I sway, my body a mass without willpower. I step forward in his direction, but before I fall into his arms, he catches me, and everything fades into black.

I blink, and each tiny eyelid flutter takes tremendous effort.

My eyesight is off. Objects move before I can focus on what I see. The first thing I see is a nightstand. Then, I look up at the ceiling. I blink a few times, willing my vision to improve, and slowly, I see what's around me.

I'm propped upright on the bed in a sitting position. A metal ring bites into my skin when I move my fingers to touch my face. I glance to the side. Handcuffs.

I look at the other one.

Both hands are cuffed to the bed. Which, by the way, isn't mine or Dante's.

Are we in a hotel? Why wouldn’t he just tell me he wanted to bring me somewhere else?

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