Page 61 of Ruthless Sinner

After much discussion, Dante and I finally decided to transform one of the empty rooms in our house into a personal gym. Excitement bubbled inside me as I eagerly awaited the arrival of our new equipment. Dante had already purchased an elliptical machine, a sturdy treadmill, and dumbbells, but my heart was set on a sleek stationary bike. When the package finally arrived, Dante was caught up with other tasks and unable to help, leaving me alone to awkwardly struggle with the stubborn packaging. Now, he’s forced to stand to the side, watching in frustration as I wrestle with the tape and cardboard.

“If you over-exert yourself or hurt your wrist again, Silas is going to be?—”

I hold up the knife again and cut him off. “Fuck Dr. Stone. I know what I’m doing. I’m using my good hand,” I wave my perfectly healthy wrist at him. “What more do you want from me?”

Dante rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath, “To accept help when you need it.”

“You’re going to need Enzo’s help if you don’t keep your comments to yourself,” I grumble in reply.

Adjusting to life with Dante has been a rollercoaster of emotions. I go back and forth between wanting to smother him in his sleep and feeling grateful for the way everything unfolded.

To Dante’s credit, he’s trying really hard to give me everything I want, but sometimes he says I’m being crazy. Like when I wanted to shave my head and get a tattoo. He said to think about it for a few days and get back to him. Sure, I woke up three days later and no longer wanted to do it, but was it really crazy? Why couldn’t he let me embrace my wildest impulses? He’s lucky I couldn’t find any clippers in the house.

“You’re a pain in the ass to be in a relationship with.”

I raise my head to meet his gaze and see him nonchalantly examining his fingernails before giving them a quick buff on his shirt. “You should have thought about that before you kidnapped me.”

Dante scoffs. “You came willingly; don’t pretend you didn’t.”

My twenty-first birthday seems like a lifetime ago instead of only a few months. So much has happened that I can’t even remember all the details. “I want to have a party with my friends,” I announce, changing the subject. The top of the box springs free as I slice through the last piece of tape.

“What friends?”

“Ruggero, for one. He’s my best friend.” Or he was before all of this happened. I got in touch with Anneliese a couple of weeks ago, but I didn’t know what to say to Ruggero. I don’t want to blame him for the years of abuse I survived, but he had the chance to stop it, and he didn’t. Everyone I came in contact with had a chance. Everyone knew what I was going through, and they turned a blind eye. Sometimes, I hate all of them.

“Never mind. I don’t think that’s a good idea, actually.”

Dante cautiously takes a step forward, his eyes darting around warily. The glint of light off the knife I was using to open the box catches his attention before it disappears into my back pocket. His tense posture relaxes slightly. “We can have a party with your friends,” he says gently. “Tell me when, and I’ll take care of everything.”

The urge to scream at him bubbles up in my throat like bile, but I swallow it down. My pride screams that I don’t need his help; I am perfectly capable of hosting a party on my own. But deep down, I know he means well. I’m still struggling with the idea that he’s supposed to be my partner. Despite the ring on my finger and the vows we’re getting ready to exchange, I can’t shake off the feeling that this is all too surreal.

Growing up, I never witnessed a successful relationship, never knew what it meant to truly commit to someone. How was I supposed to know that in a healthy partnership, both parties bring their own strengths and weaknesses to the table?

“Adalina…”

I step back from the stationary bike and gesture toward the box. “You can do the rest,” I decide.

I’m not good at depending on other people. I was raised to be self-sufficient, to rely on my own strength and resilience because no one else would ever come to my rescue. But I’m trying to change, and it’s a painful process of unlearning old habits. Sacrificing small things is bearable, but surrendering the big ones feels like ripping out pieces of my soul.

Dante walks around the box and over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close. “I don’t know what’s going through your head right now, but I want you to know I love you. If you want to throw a party, you can throw a party. If you want me to help, I’ll help. If you want me to stay away and let you figure it out yourself, I’ll stay away and let you figure it out yourself. But don’t retreat inward,” he begs. “I can see it on your face when you start overthinking. I don’t have to be a part of every decision or choice you make but don’t shut me out. Just tell me if you want to do something yourself, and I’ll let you.”

“You’re always arguing with me,” I point out. “I wanted to put this bike together myself, and you wouldn’t let me.”

A lazy smile pops up on his lips. “Because you’re injured. I don’t care if you want to shoot guns, throw axes, or cook dinner without me. Do whatever you want. But if you’re going to wind up hurting yourself in the process, you can’t expect me to stand back and let you.”

“You’re a mess of contradictions.”

“No, not really.” Dante leans down to kiss my forehead. “I want you to do what you want to do, and I want you to feel safe with me, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

I shake my head, “There you go again, contradicting yourself. Just because I want to do something that may hurt myself doesn’t mean you need to swoop in and save me.”

Dante purses his lips for a moment before reluctantly nodding. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. People hurt themselves every day. I guess I just feel like I should be there to protect you because you’ve been hurt too much over the years. And if I can save you from a little more pain, it’ll be worth whatever shit you give me for overstepping your boundaries.”

I admire him for desperately wanting to protect me from any further harm, but I’m an adult. For the first time in my life, that means something.

I’ve been held captive since the day I was born, forced to live in fear and wonder if my life would ever improve. Now that it has, I want to make the decisions. I want to choose to go skydiving. I want parties with friends who make me feel good about myself. I want to watch trashy television and read filthy books. I want to masturbate and have sex and do things with Dante that would make my father roll over in his grave.

“No party,” I decide. “Not until I’ve reconciled my friendships.” There are a lot of pain points I need to resolve between me and the people who left me to suffer throughout the years. I know they’re not entirely to blame for the situation I found myself in, but I still need to ask them why they allowed my abuse to go unnoticed.

Dante tilts his head and presses his lips to mine, his breath warm against my skin. My stomach flutters as he deepens the kiss, his tongue dancing with mine. A spark of desire ignites in my belly, sending tingles through my body. “Whatever you want,” he whispers. “I just ask that you stop threatening to stab me.”

“No promises,” I grin.

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