Page 44 of Twisted Throne

“Paul, I know all of this stuff is the norm for you and your life, but it’s not normal for me!” I said. I couldn’t help the way my eyes widened, or the pleading tone in my voice. Maybe if I’d been in this world since birth, I’d be more comfortable with the risk. Maybe.

He stepped closer, and brushed a stray hair from my face.

“You are a LaRosa,” he said firmly. “This is what you’ve chosen for your normal now as well. How could it be any different for the daughter of Angelo LaRosa?”

I buried my face against his shoulder, closing my eyes tightly. I wanted to deny it. But he was right. I’d made my choice. I was part of a dangerous family, and I was involved with a dangerous man.

“But what if you get hurt?” I asked him, tilting my head back to look him fully in the face.

“I won’t.”

“How can you possibly know that?” I asked him, my breath hitching in my throat. “You could get shot, or stabbed or killed or—”

He raised his finger to my lips, halting the words flowing from my mouth.

“Shhhhh, he said. “I know that I won’t get hurt, because I know that I have to come back to you.”

The sharp angles of his face softened slightly and he leaned down to brush his lips lightly across my own, sending tingles down my spine.

“Paul,” I asked. “What made you choose this?”

“Choose what?” he said, back stiffening.

I gestured vaguely.

“All of this! This life, this world,” I said. “Why this? Why not something, anything else?”

Without a word he turned to the kitchenette in his suite, which was a mirror image of my own. He pulled two crystal glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He poured a generous amount in each, then turned to hand me one.

“Why does anyone do anything, Gia?” he asked, sounding tired. “I was ten when my mother took off, couldn’t stand my dad beating the shit out of her anymore I guess.”

He took a large swallow of his whiskey before continuing on.

“With her gone, I was pretty much on my own. Dear dad spent most of his time drunk off his ass at whatever hole in the wall bar that would still let him run a tab. S, sometimes I wouldn’t even see him for days,” he said, bitterness in his voice.

“Paul, I’m sorry,” I said, reaching out to place my hand on his arm.

He jerked it back, out of my reach, then drained the rest of his whiskey before grabbing the bottle and filling it again.

“Don’t be. I, it was better for him to be gone than to be home, trust me,” he said. He looked down, but that didn’t matter. I didn’t need to see his eyes to see the pain he was hiding.

“One of the older kids managed to get me a job making deliveries from some pissant dealer. When the LaRosa’s expanded into my neighborhood a few years later, Angelo took notice of me and I started making deliveries for him.”

“So you didn’t really have a choice then?” I asked him. My heart broke for him, and all that he’d been through.

“Not so,” he replied. “People always have choices, and I have absolutely zero regrets about the ones that I’ve made. Do you?”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“I-I’m not sure,” I managed to stutter out.

Paul walked over to me, and set my undrunk whisky down on the table.

He bent down, his lips at my ear. His warm breath caused the hair on the back of my neck to rise.

“Then you should get that way, or get out now,” he said.

He walked to the door, opened it and stared at me, his eyes boring into mine. “Come see me when you’re sure,soubrette.”

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