Page 66 of Deception & Desire

She nods sharply, already moving to help me sit up. I don’t miss the way her hand recoils when Marco reaches for her.

“Mia,” he says her name like a plea.

“Thank you for saving him,” her voice is cool. “I’ll take it from here.”

The man looks desperately at his daughter for a moment longer before sagging into his chair with his head between his hands.

“Come on,” she whispers as she helps me up. Neither of us looks back at the older man as we leave.

The ride back to the brownstone is substantially slower than the last. My body feels like lead, exhaustion dragging me under. Mia says nothing, but I can feel the tension rolling off her, thick and suffocating.

When she pulls up in front of the house, she’s out of the car before I can even open the door.

“Let’s get you to bed,” she says, her voice brisk as she slings my arm over her shoulder and helps me up the steps.

Stairs, as it would turn out, are not a good combination with new stitches, but eventually, I manage to make it to my room, grunting in relief as I lie back on the pillows and close my eyes.

I’m not sure how long I lie there, but when I open my eyes again, Mia is still hovering over the bed. Her beautiful face is pale and battling through a myriad of emotions.

“Mia…”

“I’m sorry,” the words burst out of her with alarming volume. “You shouldn’t have jumped in front of the knife.”

“I wasn’t about to let you die,” I counter firmly. “You should have left when I told you to.”

She shakes her head. “I wasn’t about to let you die either.”

“Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a hypocrite?”

She smiles, and it breaks something within me to watch as this pushes her over the edge. Her hand clamps over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. I want to hold her so desperately. The longing is more painful than the stab wound in my side.

“I’m s-sorry. I’ll go.”

“No, please.” The words feel oddly familiar on my tongue. “Stay with me.”

She hesitates a moment, her eyes bright with tears, before turning to switch off the lights. The relief of the feeling of the bed dipping as she slides in beside me is unparalleled.

The darkness offers us something more than a reprieve from the horrors of the day—it’s a space where actions feel less consequential. My arm slides around her shoulders, bringing her as close to my body as I can manage.

She must think so, too, as she doesn’t protest, gently burying her head into my shoulder.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” I confess into the darkness. “When you attacked Rubio, I thought I was going to have to watch you die.”

“Leon…” A warm hand rests itself against my cheek.

“I don’t think I would survive it.”

A thumb brushes against my skin. “Sleep. I promise I’ll still be here in the morning.”

She stays.She stays the whole day. Stays the next day, too. At some point, I think she must have left because her clothes changed. When I ask her about it, she tells me she moved a few things into her room.

She doesn’t sleep there, though. Every night, she fusses over my wound and lingers by the bed until I utter those same words again.

“Stay with me.”

And she turns off the light and slides next to me.

---