The way she draws people’s eyes to herself without even knowing is astounding.
Even I’m distracted by her dress.
Not only that.
I couldn’t think straight the entire day.
The image of her almost naked in that lounge chair, with only her tiny swimsuit, her eyes gleaming, her thick lashes barely shielding her from the sun, her lips parted every time I looked at her or spoke, has haunted me these past few hours.
But nothing has affected me more than saying no to her.
She followed her instinct and came to me, and I said no to her.
Her instinct made her hug me and say words to me that helped me realize I had a soft spot for her.
‘No’was the right thing to say.
I can destroy this woman.
I don’t want to.
If I touch her, so many things will become impossible.
Like letting her go, for instance.
And that would be the most important one.
If I’m not touching her, I’ll release her at some point, making sure she’s safe, away from Boris’s claws and her vengeful ex.
That scenario isn’t less complicated than keeping her, except I wouldn’t ruin her.
If she stays… There is no turning back.
The outcome is predictable.
We either share a life of crime, and she perishes before her time, or she has her heart broken.
Men like me don’t live normal lives. They die young in brutal circumstances.
If that’s not the case, they get arrested and thrown in jail. Very few live long lives and die of old age in their beds.
And those are the exceptions.
History is filled with men like me living violently and inflicting pain.
The women weaving their destinies with ours are tough and enduring, but even so, is it all worth it?
Life is hard even without doing what we’re doing.
So, no, I wouldn’t want to bring someone like her into that kind of life.
I haven’t thought about these things before, but now I do.
She doesn’t know all that.
She’s too young and inexperienced, a troubled kid fighting her fate and the cruelty of life.
If we, the grown-ups, can’t change a thing, what makes her think she can?