Page 92 of Scarlet Vows
Santo stands, too. “Lead the way.”
Chapter Twenty-One
ALINA
I take a quiet,slow breath of relief. Finally, I can relax.
I spot only a nose that sniffs the air, low to the ground near the door.
“Albert, you’re safe now.”
He shuffles in, and I pick him up and feed him a small piece of cheese. I probably shouldn’t, but he looks so pitiful while eyeing the cheese. I get doggy kisses for it.
I’m so glad dinner’s over and that they’ve gone upstairs. There’s something about Santo that creeps me out. I don’t know if it’s just that I’m not used to a man looking at me like how he does, like he’s picturing me naked, like he’ll see me naked because women don’t say no to him.
Given his size, I can see some being too scared to say no. Oh, there’ll be the ones who are into him, but no way was I letting Isla here tonight, not with the off chance he may make her his newest target.
But then again, maybe it’s not how he looks at me.
Maybe it’s the stories of what Santo’s done to people. Mafia and bratva don’t have good reputations, but there aresome who seem to relish the sadistic side, the violence, the pain a little more than the rest.
He seems like a guy who doesn’t consider a thing as off the table.
I shudder at the thought of a guy like that setting his eyes on Isla.
And the way he flirted? Right in front of Ilya?
“What the heck was that, Albert?”
I carry Albert and my wineglass to the kitchen to put things away. Svetlana’s done an incredible job, but I sent her off to bed when the dessert came out. I set Albert down to put the last things in containers to put in the fridge.
Albert gives a whine of outrage and pushes his little wet nose at my hand so I’ll pet him and feed him a scrap of lamb. I’m going to need to stop. Otherwise, poor Albert’s going to resemble a barrel.
But flirting like Santo did is wrong. Although, I have to admit, seeing Ilya stand up for me, ready to take the giant down, was really fucking hot. Swoon-worthy hot.
There are times I forget how lethal he is, but then he makes a threat I feel down to my toes, a threat that’s more a warning and a promise, and something I know Ilya would do.
It shouldn’t be a turn-on. But it is.
Max would have chosen a different path?—
I stop, the guilt flooding. Max wasn’t Ilya. And Ilya isn’t Max. So why does Ilya’s threat turn me on? Or maybe it isn’t just Ilya making promises of pain and retribution on my behalf, for my virtue. Maybe it’shim.
Maybe?
I know it is.
This attraction keeps rearing up more and more lately. Like an addiction I can’t control, and I need bigger hits. Honestly, it worries me.
When we had our conversation and I admitted I wantedhim, too, and he told me he’d wait until I was ready, forever if he had to… That comforted me. But it also rang false, because it’s not him needing to wait until I’m ready. It’s me.
Being ready, not being inundated with guilt for wanting someone with a growing need while Max is gone…
Have I grieved enough? Is this wrong to find myself waking up emotionally and sexually? Should I be lingering in the darkness with Max longer?
He’d say no. But that’s Max. Selfless, unlike me.
Because if I allow myself, I will let the terrible truth in.
