Page 3 of Forbidden

A slow pulse starts at the base of my throat. I know Adriano has always been part of our lives, but I didn’t know he’d been this involved.

I remember Sophia’s funeral with Adriano standing rigid and his eyes hollowed out, his fists clenched like they were the only things holding him together. I wanted to say something, to reach out, but I didn’t.

I just stood there.

My hands tremble as I snap out from my reverie. Outside, Adriano’s and the other SUV are gone, their red lights fading. My stomach twists as I realize that in a way, he’s a ghost again. And even after all this time, I still can’t stop chasing him.

Gianna breaks the silence. “He’ll be at the wedding, you know.”

I exhale slowly, staring into my cup.

“Oh, it’ll be fun,” she adds. “Adriano in a tux? I’d ditch my groom if I could.”

I choke on my coffee. “Jesus, Gianna. He’s Sophia’s dad.” I get that she is trying to make light of the situation but I honestly can’t. Yes, Adriano has always had the female population ofBrooklyn turning and he might have indulged a few but I doubt it’s the same now.

“So?” She takes a slow sip, eyes flashing with something dangerous. “I’m sure he’s still a fucking menace to anyone’s lady parts.” Then she glances at me, head tilting, her voice dropping into something silkier. “The things I know that man would do to me if I wanted… I don’t even think I’d tell him no. I’ll just let him take it as far as he wants.”

My stomach knots, but I scoff anyway. Deflection. As always. I shouldn’t be thinking about it, those gloved hands tight on my throat, holding me there, then loosening and clenching again. Tighter. Like a test. A lesson. A claim.

Gianna’s lips twist like she sees it on my face. “Reminiscing, I see. Remember that time you ‘accidentally’ dropped your towel?”

“Fuck off!” I shove her arm, heat rushing to my face. “I was barely seventeen. He didn’t even look. You’re the one who’s been screwed since he walked into our lives, drooling over him at Sophia’s pool parties.”

Sophia. Her name guts me quickly and deeply. I focus on my coffee cup, the steam curling like ghostly fingers.

Gianna’s smile falters as we realize it might be too soon to joke about this. “Yeah. I wonder how things would’ve turned out if she were here now. Losing her that way wrecked us all.”

“Wrecked him worse,” I murmur. “She was his world.”

“And you were hers. Full circle.” Until I fucked it up.

But I don’t say that out loud.

We finish our coffees, and Gianna drags me to her car, where she continues ranting about seating charts. I don’t hear her. My mind is still stuck looping on him. That suit. Those tattoos. The way he moves, like he owns everything he touches. Like he could crush you, ruin you, and you’d beg for it anyway.

Back at my apartment, night falls fast. The place is a dump with cracked walls, a sink that never stops dripping, and a mattress that groans like it’s dying. But it’s all I am able to afford till I find a job.

Gianna offered to let me stay with her and Gerald, but I don’t want to impose, not when they just got their apartment. Mom’s been in a nursing home since she started forgetting things more often, and even keeping her there has put a huge dent in our pockets.

After high school, I planned to take a gap year before college, but then after the accident, everything changed, and my mental state was a mess. Somehow, going back just never felt like a priority.

Maybe one day I will, but for now, just getting through each day is enough.

After helping me settle in, Gianna disappears to fuss over her veil, leaving me alone.

I peel off my dress, the yellow fabric hitting the floor in a heap. My skin’s sticky from the day. Shower time.

Hot water pounds my shoulders as steam fogs the tiny bathroom. But as I close my eyes, Adriano’s there. As he always seems to be. It’s not a memory or fantasy. But a fucking haunting. His presence coils around me, and my body lights up—hot, needy, alive.

I’m pissed I didn’t go after him today, but damn, I’ve missed him. It’s twisted, three years apart should’ve been enough to kill this. But nothing dulls it. Nothing stops the way my body aches for him. Craves him.

My fingers skim down, slow, and my stomach flutters. Lower. I’m already wet and not just from the water.

"Fuck," I whisper, circling my clit, the pressure mounting.

Like an apparition emerging from the darkness, I see him. First, he appears with rainwater dripping from his skin. Then,he steps into the shower. Finally, his low, rasped command whispers against my ear as his hand grabs me roughly.

"Don’t stop, Penelope."

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