Page 47 of Their Reckless Thief
I tossed the phone onto the table with a frustrated sigh. I couldn’t stay out of danger forever, not if I wanted to survive. I needed to work. I needed the money.
Vincenzo’s warning flashed in my mind. How serious had he been about me staying out of harm’s way and never returning to The Below unless he came to get me? My stomach sank. I knew one thing for sure: Vincenzo wasn’t the kind of man to make idle threats.
But I couldn’t just lie around and wait for my life to fall apart again. I couldn’t afford that. No matter what promises had been made, or what threats had been whispered, I had to keep going. Keep fighting.
Because if I didn’t? I’d end up right back on the streets. And that was a place I swore I’d never return to.
I staredat the box of mac ‘n’ cheese like it held the answer to all of life’s mysteries. It didn’t, but at least it was normal. Comforting. Something I could control, even if it was just a bowl of gooey, cheesy pasta. I needed that. Gods, I neededsomethingnormal.
When the water started boiling, I poured the noodles in, stirring absentmindedly. My mind kept drifting back tohim. The fucking paradox that was Vincenzo Moretti.
I scowled into the bubbling water as if it could drown out my thoughts. He was such a controlling prick. Demanding. Threatening. And he’d made it clear that I was nothing but a pawn in his world. I’d been sure of that from the beginning. But then he went and saved me. He’d pulled me out of that bathtub and cradled me in his arms like I was something delicate, somethingprecious. My mind couldn’t reconcile it. Was I just not worth his time after all? A little project he quickly got bored of? Did I disgust him so much that he couldn’t stand having me in his home any longer?
And wasn’t he the one who said he’d kill me without a second thought? Why did it matter to him that I had chosen death as a way to escape from him?
I drained the pasta, steam rising in my face as I tossed butter, milk, and powdered cheese into the pot.
The way he looked at me…
I stirred harder, my grip on the spoon tightening. No one had ever looked at me the way he did. Like I mattered. Like he saw me—therealme—underneath all the bullshit. He’d dried me off so carefully, his hands shaking slightly as if he wasafraidfor me. No one in my life had ever cared for me like that.No one.
I trembled at the memory of his hands and how gentle they’d been as he wrapped me in a towel, dried my hair, and dressed me. How his voice had softened, that hard edge vanishing.
But Vincenzo was a monster, wasn’t he? He’d executed a man without blinking, told me to heed it as a warning for what happened to those who crossed him. He controlled an empire of blood and drugs. He kept people in line with fear and violence. And yet, he’d been so gentle. So caring.
I spooned the gooey pasta into a bowl and sat at the table, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat. I stared into the cheesy mess, trying to make sense of the chaos swirling in my head.
Why did I care?
I couldn’t stop thinking about the callous look in his eyes when he’d told me to get out of his house. He’d told me I wasn’t worth the trouble, but I didn’t believe it. Not for a second. Not after his face had softened when he’d held me. Not after he’d made sure I was safe. Not after he’d lingered at the door when I walked away, like he wanted to say something more but couldn’t form the words.
I ate absentmindedly, barely able to swallow past the knot of emotions clogging my throat.
Why did it matter what Vincenzo Moretti thought of me? Why did I keep replaying his words in my head, wondering if I’d misread him, if I’d done something wrong? He was dangerous, untouchable.
And yet…
I slammed the spoon down on the table, the noise too loud in the quiet apartment.
Ididcare. And I hated myself for it.
He could’ve let me drown. Could’ve walked away, left me in the tub, left me to rot like he did so many others. But he hadn’t.
And I didn’t know why.
With Roberto, things were simple. I knew what he was…what he wanted from me. He wanted me to do his dirty work, pull off jobs that benefited him, and keep my mouth shut while I did it. He didn’t care about me as a person. Not really.
But Vincenzo? I didn’t know what he wanted. I didn’t understand what his endgame was. Why save me? Why care? Was I just another tool to him, another pawn to be moved around on the chessboard of his empire?
I pushed the bowl away. The food wasn’t giving me the comfort I needed, and the few bites I had taken sat heavy in my stomach.
Vincenzo was a monster, but he was also the first person to ever make me feel like I wasworthsaving.
And that terrified me more than anything else.
I retreated to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I needed to be alone, away from everything and everyone. Away from Vivian’s concerned eyes and Will’s protective hovering. I didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to explain the twisted mess in my head.
I wanted to shut it all out.
