Page 38 of The Seller

He has to go.

Stavros

My heart is fucking breaking. Siri is one of the most incredible women I have ever encountered. She has made me want to change everything. But I know she’s not going to believe my words. Her entire life has been a manipulation. She’s been a tool from the moment she was born, and she doesn’t dare give herself to anyone - except me, but even then, only sexually.

I can’t rush this. I can’t push her. As much as I want to grab her by the hair, spin her over and fuck her ass until she damn well listens to me, that’s the old Stavros talking, and it wouldn’t work anyway. She’d endure the brutality with her usual elegance and strength, and then she’d run again.

She thinks I am another tyrant, and she might not be wrong about that. My entire adult life has been one long conquest, financially and physically. I have expanded my territories as ancient generals used to expand through barbaric lands. I have turned markets to my will. I have made vast amounts of money, and I have used women for my entertainment. Why should she expect me to respect her wishes, when all I’ve ever shown her is the man who takes what he wants, and to hell with everyone else.

“You want me to go? I’ll go.” I get up and start locating my clothes from around the floor, dressing quite calmly and casually. A grand display of passion isn’t going to sway her. Nothing is. She needs more time to herself, and I can give her that.

Siri watches me suspiciously. She probably thinks that this is some kind of trap, but it’s not. This is me doing what needs to be done to have a chance at a real relationship. It might take months, or even years, but I am a patient man, and I can wait as long as it takes.

“One thing before I go,” I say once I’m dressed and ready to leave. “Stop selling drugs.”

Her face reddens, even over the post coital flush which still graces her cheeks and chest. “You sell women! Women is worse than drugs. Don’t lecture me on what to sell!”

“You’re destroying lives with this shit. Including your own.”

“Oh fuck off, Stavros. You never did anyone any favors. You made money. Just like I do.”

She’s not going to listen. I can see in her eyes that she’s too fucking frightened of me to really pay attention to what I’m saying, no matter how clearly I spell it out for her. She thinks I’m here to drag her back into the dark and turn her into my owned thing. She’s not entirely wrong. I want her back. I want her to be mine. Where she’s wrong is thinking I’m going to force it. There are some things in life that cannot be forced if they’re going to be real, and love is one of them.

I’m looking at a girl who has operated her entire young life in survival mode. It has gotten her this far, further than anyone could have expected, but now she’s on the wrong path. If she keeps selling drugs, she’s going to start cutting into claimed turf, and when she does that, she’s going to start drawing attention to herself. Drug lords have ways of ferreting up pipelines. They can pick up a street slinger in Venice and know who the original seller was within a week.

She’s going to get caught sooner or later, and when she does, it’s going to be bad. Her father has been humiliated. Her promised husband is furious. The entirety of the southern European underworld is in an uproar over this, grown, brutal, hardened men gossiping about Sirios Medici as if she is a character on a television show.

Siri has become a thing of legend, but I’m not telling her that. The last thing this girl needs is an ego.

It would be best if she surrendered to me now, admitted to the connection between us, stopped being so afraid of loving me, but I know why she can’t do those things. And I can’t deny my desire to control her, not when she looks into my eyes and sees how much I want her.

“What would you say if I told you I’ve stopped selling women?”

“I’d say you’re a liar.”

She’s defensive and stressed and really not taking any of this in. Cynical and jaded, she expects the worst from me, even though I’ve given her some of the best I have to give. I draw in a breath and try to restrain my anger. I’m not angry at her. But I am furious at the father who so destroyed her ability to trust, who turned her into a liar who sees lies everywhere, and who can’t even feel the truth of real love when it is inside her.

Maybe if I was a better man, I might be able to save her, but I want everything from her. I want to possess her. I want to make her mine so deeply she can never belong to anyone else.

“You want me to go?” I ask her one last time.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll go.”

“Good. Go.”

Siri

He gives me one last dark, sexy look and walks down the stairs, leaving me naked and well fucked in the bed which now smells of him. I wonder almost immediately how long his scent will cling to the sheets.

I hope it never fades.

I miss him already. It is a gut twisting feeling which makes me feel fluttery and nervous and terrible.

He has to go. I had to make him leave. This is too complicated and emotionally dangerous of a situation to be distracted in, and I don’t trust the way Stavros makes me feel. I go from being strong, centered, and certain of what I want, to feeling all mixed up and jittery, wanting to be saved and at the same time knowing that Stavros has never saved anyone in his life. He is not one of the good guys.

That doesn’t mean I don’t have to bite my lower lip to stop myself from saying something stupid, likecome back, as I hear him descend the stairs, and close the front door of my home.

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