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"I don't know. Roman, my brother, always told me I wasn't built for that life—the one of a mafia wife." She turns to me in horror. "Not that I'm saying I'd be...I just meant when I was younger. Dammit."
She stares off, not focusing on anything as I try to keep my laughter in. I grab her hand, intertwining our fingers, and she jolts. I should put her out of her misery, but it's hilarious.
"You're laughing at me. I wasn't proposing to you," she grumbles, tugging to get away from me, but I hold on to her.
"I'm not in the mafia. But even if I was, I'm sure you'd make a perfectly fine mafia wife," I say, grinning.
She rolls her eyes. "He wasn't saying I wouldn't make a good wife. Just that I was meant for other things. I don't think this is what he had in mind, though."
She scans the room, sadness creeping into her brown eyes. I can't imagine what it's like to lose a sibling. If MacKenzie died...my stomach rolls just thinking about it. The fact I don't even know where she is right now, if she's okay, eats me up inside. She's strong enough to take care of herself, but she won't go to Maddox for help if she needs it. Honestly, I don't know who she'd run to. The thought sends a pulse through my chest.
She clears her throat. "Didn't mean to bring down the mood."
"I'm in an MC," I blurt out.
I really hope she knows what an MC is, because saying motorcycle club doesn't encompass what the Vipers are.
I didn't plan on telling her until we were on the outside. If shit goes sideways, I don't want the information to be tortured out of her. They probably wouldn't believe her if she said she didn't know anything. It's a catch-22 I never fully understood how to navigate. Thankfully, since my father died, we haven't had to deal with anything extreme enough to hurt someone. A few nights locked away in the dark are enough for most people to break.
She turns, gazing at me as she studies my face. Her lips purse, drawing my eyes to them. When her tongue darts out, my cock swells. I subtly try to adjust myself, but she glances down, a small smile playing on her face.
"Does thinking about being in an MC make you horny?" She giggles, the sound dancing around the room.
I smirk, squeezing her hand. "You make me hard, Aelia. Honestly, it's becoming a problem."
Her eyebrows crawl up her forehead. "A problem? I'd better start wearing baggy sweatshirts and stop showering then, huh?"
Dropping her hand, I cup her cheeks, brushing my nose along hers. "You could wear a potato sack and I'd still be hard around you."
"Cliché," she mutters, eyes falling closed.
I chuckle, pressing a kiss to her lips. "It's not what you wear. It's how you move, how you smell, everything about you."
She pulls away, sighing. "I hate to tell you this, but I don't think it's any of those things."
Sliding from the bed, she walks to the window, peeking out the curtains as if someone might be listening in.
"What exactly do you think it is, then?"
She turns to me, leaning against the window. "You're stuck in here with me. You've got this idea in your head that I need to be saved even though I never asked for that. I'm not saying I'd be able to get out of here by myself. Clearly, if that were the case, I'd already be gone. But you thinking you're infatuated with me?"
"I'm not infatuated with you, Aelia," I growl, stalking toward her. She doesn't move. Her face doesn't change—just a resigned look in her eyes.
"Dante, this isn't some love story where you're the hero and we're going to live happily ever after. You don't deserve to have to deal with me after all this." She gestures to the room as if it embodies the whole Guild. "I'm grateful just to be here with you, in this moment. But I won't put you in a position to keep me around just because you feel like you should. Trauma bonding and all that."
She snorts, shaking her head, then gazes out the window again. I don't know where shit went wrong—what I said to make her think I chose her as if she was the first woman I came across. Thinking back to all our other conversations, it hits me.
"That’s not what trauma bonding is. You think I picked you because you were in Jenkins's office the first time we met, don't you?"
"I think that was a large part of it, yes. I'm not mad. It was a smart choice, though other people might be able to do more for you. Or at the very least, they can help you when I can't. It's why I thought you should move on to someone else. Gathering more people to your side—"
"Stop," I grunt, holding my hand up.
I just need her to get out of her head. She's spent long enough watching, waiting, deciphering ulterior motives. It's time she realized that not everyone is like that. I don't know how I'll get her to realize I want her for who she is, not what she can do for me, but I'll figure it out.
"I'll say this as many times as it takes, Aelia. I don't want anyone else. And while you may not believe that now, eventually you'll see that this wasn't a coincidence or a clever ploy on my part. You're who I want and that's not going to change...whether we're stuck here or out there. You're it for me. Get used to it."
Twenty-Six
