Page 20 of Confession
Quinn shakes his head, amused, and walks over to the sink. It brings him close to me. When he starts washing his hands, I move toward him. He doesn’t tense like he has in the past, but his eyes are wary when they flick to me.
You know what? He’s right to be wary. He’s in my sights now, and there’s no escaping. And that’s why I need him to understand what he seemed to be struggling with last night when he so idiotically thought I was going to fire him. I lean into him until my shoulder is pressing against his. I whisper in his ear, “You do not get to leave.” I barely stop myself from adding,Ever. “Do you understand?”
He swallows hard. He doesn’t answer me.
“I need you to nod, at the very least.”
Even that’s hard for him. His nod is a jerk of his chin, and I think he’s mostly doing it to make me leave him alone.
I don’t want to leave him alone, and if there weren’t three other people in the kitchen right now, I would put myself behind him. I would subdue him, make him submit to me. I would make him accept what I’ve said. I would make him sayyeslike he did last night.
Because the truth, barely perceptible, easily mistakable, reveals itself in his wariness. I was irritated before, focusing on his resistance. But as I crowd him and feel him shiver, as I think about what he’d do if I seized control of him right now, as I think about how he responded when I grabbed his hair last night and when I choked him in that alley, I know the truth. I know what he’s been hiding.
And I’m going to make him confess it.
NINE
Quinn
Eclipse has live music on Sundays. Tonight it’s hip-hop, which isn’t my thing, but it works in this setting. Standing at the railing of the mezzanine, keeping watch, I tune it out like everything else.
I try to tune out my thoughts as well because I have a job to do. I don’t like that Gavino DiMaggio came in here last night. I didn’t learn that until this morning from Sasha, but it certainly explains why Vitali was upset last night.
It does not, however, explain the rest of it. I don’t know what to make of what happened. I don’t believe, not for a second, that he’s actually interested in me.
There’s a lot of shit going on in Vitali’s life right now and his head’s pretty fucked up. That was very obvious last night, and it helped me put a few other things together.
He’s outmatched by the DiMaggios right now and isn’t sure what to do. All the responsibility is on him, and it’s a heavy burden. He’s also fucked up about his uncle’s betrayal and hasn’t worked through that yet. He’s furious about it, but he’s also hurt and isn’t ready to recognize that.
Then there’s Roman.
What a complicated fucking mess. Half the problem is that Vitali is a fixer. I think he knows that there’s no fixing Roman, but he still wants to. He wants Roman to be healed, to be happy, to be whole and normal. That’s never going to happen, and it’s hard for Vitali to accept that.
He also feels guilty as hell about what happened to Roman. He shouldn’t, but he does.
He hasn’t told me any of this, but I know him. I can tell. Hell, I bet evenhedoesn’t realize most of this. It’s all in the background, fucking up his brain, rewiring shit and confusing him.
That’s why he’s drinking so much.
That’s why he’s suddenly bi-curious.
It’s not really about me. I’m simply convenient. A distraction. I can’t let myself forget that even if I let myself … fuck, I don’t know. How far will he want to go?
He kissed me. Fucking hell, Vitali Constatinekissedme.
I’ve gotten hard so many times thinking about it. His lips against mine, his tongue in my mouth, his hands roaming my body …
I’m so lost in my head that I don’t see the girl coming up to me until her hand is on my arm. I barely stop myself from instinctively shoving her. I need to focus, to be present. I have a job to do. Thank god Sasha’s downstairs. Anyone could get by me right now.
The girl asks me where the restroom is. She leans into me. Why can’t these girls tell how violent I am? I’ve killed so many people. And I’m not safe in bed. I’m violent there too. The only difference is, there, I don’t want to win the fight.
But I escort her to the restroom. She’s drunk and I don’t want her to get hurt. When she emerges, I ask her who her DD is. She doesn’t have one. She leans into me again, puts her hands on me. I text one of the bouncers to come get her and arrange a ride.
I enjoy a brief moment of peace and focus before I attract fresh attention, this time from a twink who at least reads my sexuality correctly. Or maybe he noted my lack of interest in the pretty little drunk I sent away. Whatever the case, he cozies up to me while I’m scanning the crowd on the ground floor.
“You looking for someone?” His sparkly nails rake lightly down my forearm. I have my sleeves down, but I still don’t like when people touch me there.
I move my arm away from him. “Just doing my job. You should go have fun.”
