Page 34 of Trapped

“You sure?” he snarled. “I’d be more than happy to.”

“I know the rules. I’m still not thanking you for what I didn’t ask for.”

He released his grip on me. “I don’t hand my keys out to just anybody.”

I straightened. “Give them to someone who cares, then.”

“Maybe I fucking will.”

I almost flinched. “It’s simple. If you’d like me to come over, shoot me a text. Our arrangement is for sex. That’s all it is—and all it’ll ever be. I’m earning my money. Nothing more. Don’t pity me. Don’t go easy on me.”

He skewered me with a glare. “Believe me, I’m not.”

“Good,” I shot back.

Santino growled something in Italian. He threw himself in the chair behind the desk and opened his phone. He looked up from it to scowl at me.Sucha big ego.

He had no problem coming inside me, but if I got pregnant? I’d be on my own. Santino’s joke about marrying me rubbed me raw. The keys weren’t an offer to upgrade our relationship. They were to keep me close. He wanted me to fluff his pillow at night and suck his cock in the morning.

Men were liars. They promised things and didn’t deliver. They cheated. Pretended to care, only to dump you the next day. They ghosted.

Santino spoiled me rotten, but he rarely texted unless it was to arrange a meeting. He wasn’t evil like my ex, but he’d use me for as long as I allowed him. Just like everybody else had.

Love didn’t exist. Love was for suckers like my stepmom, who’d pined after my cheating father—another man who’d let me down my whole life. He was the reason I accepted Dimitri’s proposal and fled Providence to Boston to seek sanctuary, however twisted, in the arms of Santino.

I marched out the door.

Santino said nothing, letting me go with a purse filled with his cash.

ELEVEN

DELILAH

Vitale escorted me out. The air was thick with the promise of rain, and dark clouds rolled in over the city. The wind whipped my hair around my face, and I pulled my coat tighter against the sudden chill. As we stepped outside, the muffled sounds of the fighting ring faded behind us, replaced by the distant rumble of thunder.

The street was deserted, the usual crowd having dispersed now that the main event was over. I kept my head down, trying to process everything that had happened inside, when I walked past a figure slumped against the wall. My stomach dropped when I recognized the man who’d hit on me.

They’d beaten the shit out of him. Blood matted his hair, his eyes swollen shut. His clothes were torn, and his head lolled to the side. A pang twisted in my gut. This was my fault.

I started toward him, but Vitale’s hand clamped down on my arm.

“Don’t,” he warned.

“He’s hurt. I can’t leave him like this.”

Vitale’s grip tightened. “Yes, you can.”

I gestured at him. “Look at him. He can’t even walk!”

“If you help him, you’ll only make things worse for him and yourself.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You’ll just get him killed. And if Santino sees you helping that guy, he’ll take it as a betrayal. You can’t afford that.”

I pulled my arm free. “This is so messed up.”

I hesitated, glancing at Drunk Guy. His breathing was shallow, and he looked like he was about to pass out. Another surge of guilt hit me. This was what Santino’s world did to people. I’d signed up for this life to survive, but that meant looking the other way.

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