Confess (Sin City Salvation #1)

by A. Zavarelli

  It was good advice, but I still didn’t know how I was going to handle it. The whole idea was terrifying. “Do you ever wish you could change something, Cristian?”

  He cleared his throat, and when he answered, his voice was filled with torment.

  “Yes, I do.”

  SINCE I ENROLLED IN SCHOOL, Lucian had relaxed the leash a little. He was at work for the rest of the day, and I finally had the house to myself. A golden opportunity to snoop through everything.

  And snoop I did.

  But as it turned out, Lucian didn’t have anything of significance in this house. If he did, it was probably in the safe I found in the bedroom closet, but unfortunately for me, I didn’t know how to access whatever was in there.

  Apart from that, I searched the house high and low but came up empty in the end. Even the desk key I thought might be my golden ticket turned up nothing but a bunch of office supplies. The only certainty I’d gleaned was that Lucian was a minimalist to the extreme. There wasn’t a single family photo in his home. Not a birth certificate. A birthday card. Literally zero evidence that he even had a life outside his office.

  It only created more questions about him, and in the end, my Google search wasn’t any better. Page after page turned up endless articles about the controversial cases he’d worked, and there were simply too many to sift through them all. The ones I did manage to read reflected the same scathing opinions of his character. He didn’t do himself any favors by forgoing the opportunity to defend himself in interviews either. The persisting evidence suggested he declined any questions not relating to his clients. His standoffishness and permanent scowl only furthered the agenda of the media firing squad.

  Admittedly, I had the same sour sentiments when he blew into my life with all the delicacy of a hurricane. But now, reading such awful accounts of him was somewhat sickening. It wasn’t that I had bonded to him, but I’d come to know a few things about Lucian in our time together, and I didn’t really believe he was quite the monster he was painted to be.

  I decided it was probably best if I stopped reading those articles altogether and pushed my feelings aside, because at that moment, it was difficult to make sense of them.

  Lucian had given me a set of rules for my time, and I knew at any given moment he could be tracking me. But he’d returned my phone and my car keys and even purchased a laptop for my studies.

  Typically, I’d spend my days shopping or lunching or visiting the spa, but when I thought about doing any of that, it wasn’t as appealing as it used to be. So I called Birdie instead.

  “Hey,” she answered. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I squinted up at the bedroom ceiling. “Are you settling into Washington all right?”

  There was a pause, some shuffling around, and I heard someone in the background before Birdie answered. “Uh-huh, I’m fine.”

  She sounded distracted, and it worried me. “Who’s with you?”

  “I’m having lunch with Trouble.”

  “She went with you?” I knew Birdie would get defensive if I poked too much, but this was news to me.

  “Yes,” she answered. “I figured that it would be better if we stuck together.”

  I choked down the jealousy her words provoked. I wanted Birdie to have a life and friends, but for so long, it had just been me and her. I couldn’t help the childish notion that I’d been replaced so easily. That was until she spoke again.

  “I miss you,” she said. “It isn’t the same without you here to boss me around all the time.”

  I laughed, and it felt good. “I miss you too, B. Are you staying out of mischief?”

  “Yes, Gyps. I’m being good, I promise.”

  Some of the tension in my body melted away as I fell back on the bed and wiggled my toes. “Lucian enrolled me in school.”

  “Oh my God, seriously?” Birdie giggled. “If that isn’t irony, I don’t know what is.”

  “It’s not funny,” I grumbled.

  “It kind of is, actually. Considering how hard you pushed it on me.”

  “Are you still going?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I guess we can both complain about it now.”

  Birdie cleared her throat. “How is he treating you?”

  I paused, not really knowing how to answer that. “Good. He has a bunch of rules that I hate, but otherwise, it’s not that bad.”

  “Ace told me he’s a really good guy,” Birdie said quietly. “I wondered if it was true.”

  “When did he tell you that?”

  Another pause. “I asked him that night you made me leave with him.”

  “Oh.”

  “He hasn’t touched you, has he?” Birdie pressed.

  A shiver moved through me as I recalled the feeling of Lucian’s body pressed up against mine. His fingers in my hair, his arm around my waist, and his beating heart so close to mine I could feel it. These weren’t the type of things she meant, and I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I’d allowed him to cuddle me every night.

  “No, Birdie. He hasn’t.”

  “That’s good,” she said. “’Cause you know I’ll kill him if he does.”

  “That isn’t funny,” I whispered.

  She was quiet then, and we both shook off the bad memories in our own way.

  “I should go,” she mumbled. “I have to study.”

  “Okay.”

  “I love you, Gyps.”

  “Love you too, B.”

  “PASTA?”

  Gypsy looked up from the plate I served her with confusion in her eyes. I didn’t have to guess what she was thinking. She was wondering what strings were attached. I suspected she would always wonder that, unless by some miracle I managed to establish legitimate trust with her.

  “You earned it,” I told her.

  “How?” she asked.

  “You followed all the rules today, didn’t you?”

  She offered me a bored expression because she didn’t want to admit that she had. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that I’d tamed her. This was just the calm before the next storm, but we could both enjoy it while it lasted.

  Gypsy dug into her pasta, and I watched her while I ate. I could already tell she was getting nervous. Tomorrow would be her first day in class, and I was certain she would invent some sort of imaginary plague so she didn’t have to go. But I was mentally prepared for whatever she might throw at me. I wanted her to face her fears, and I wouldn’t allow her to be conquered by them.

  “You’re staring,” she mumbled.

  I probably should have looked away. I should have read the paper, or checked my emails, or done anything else with my attention. But I couldn’t. I liked to look at her, a little too much, and that was becoming a problem.

  I cleared my throat and set down my fork. “When you finish class tomorrow, I’ll need you to do your homework right away.”

  “Why?” She peeked up at me with a mouthful of pasta.

  “Because we have a work function to attend.”

  Her brows pinched together. “What kind of function?”

  “A picnic,” I griped.

  She laughed. “You put on a picnic?”

  “No. My partners do.”

  “Ah.” She nodded. “Those must be the other names on the door. Vincent and Emily. I was wondering.”

  “It’s a large firm,” I told her. “I like the private side of the building, but you’ll meet the everyone else tomorrow.”

  “Can’t wait.” She snorted. “I imagine your office parties are all the rage.”

  “They aren’t,” I assured her. “It’s just business.”

  “It’s time to get ready for bed.”

  Gypsy looked up from her magazine, her steely gaze staring right through me. “It’s only eight.”

  “Yes, but you have a big day tomorrow. We both have to get up early.”

  She set the magazine down in her lap and closed the pages but didn’t move. “Why are you doing this?”
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  “This was the deal you agreed to.”

  “I would hardly call it agreeing,” she said. “You blackmailed me into this situation. But regardless, I want to know why you’re acting like you have some sort of parental role in my life. I’m a grown woman.”

  “Are you?” I cocked my head to the side. “What is the last grade you completed, pet?”

  “That’s irrelevant.” She glared. “Those were circumstances outside my control and—”

  “I never said they weren’t. My point is that you want to be an adult, yet you have none of the basic skills required to survive in this world.”

  “That isn’t true,” she insisted. “I get by. I’ve always gotten by. And if I don’t know something, I figure it out.”

  I wanted to touch her. She was always beautiful, but never more so than when she was vulnerable like this. “Wouldn’t it be nice to do more than just get by for a change?” I asked.

  Her eyes met mine, and for a split second, I saw the fear there. The idea of allowing anyone to help her was terrifying. Gypsy had only ever learned to take what she needed or wanted, but now she needed to learn to accept what was given freely.

  “Come.” I held out my hand, and she stared at it as if it were poison.

  I knew she wouldn’t take it but hope still lived inside me. Instead, she rose on her own and crossed her arms. “What now?”

  “If you want a shower to help you wind down, then you need to take it now. Otherwise, you can get dressed for bed.”

  She padded down the hall without protest, and a minute later, the shower turned on. I had to restrain myself from following the way I wanted to. Instead, I walked into the kitchen and drank a glass of ice cold water. But even that didn’t stop me from thinking about her naked body beneath me.

  It didn’t help matters when I walked into the room and found her in one of her silk nightgowns. It was beautiful and classy and everything that Gypsy was, but it also emphasized her every curve. Curves that my hands ached to touch. It felt wrong when it was never my intention to be this way with her. She was my wife on paper only, and that couldn’t change.

  “You’re staring again,” she noted as she moved to her side of the bed.

  I turned away wordlessly and changed into a pair of lounge pants and a tee shirt. Typically, I would sleep with nothing more than briefs on, and with the night sweats, I’d been miserable. But it was the only way to ensure that Gypsy felt safe, and I wouldn’t sacrifice her sense of well-being for my own comfort.

  “I won’t be able to sleep,” she whined.

  “Get into bed,” I told her.

  She thought about arguing but decided against it. She could protest that she wasn’t tired until she was blue in the face, but I could see it in her eyes.

  I picked up the copy of Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout and flipped to the first page. Gypsy was on her back beside me, her face nestled into the pillow, and her fingers beating a restless rhythm against her opposite arm.

  When I began to read aloud, I felt her gaze move to me, but I didn’t look back. It was difficult enough as it was without staring into her eyes, and I had begun to doubt my self-restraint the longer I was around her.

  I read the story of Olive, and she fidgeted through the first five pages, but the next time I peered over at her, she was enrapt. She caught me staring, and for a moment, neither of us were quite sure how to handle the situation. Ultimately, it was me who broke the gaze as I went back to the story, reading until I caught her dozing off several times.

  It was just past ten when I set the book on the nightstand and turned out the light. The room was quiet, and I was already too warm. I also didn’t trust that if I put my arm around Gypsy right now, I’d be able to leave it at that.

  So I stayed where I was, flat on my back, and removed my tee shirt. Gypsy and I were separated by covers, but she became restless as the minutes wore on.

  “Are you going to sleep?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  There was quiet, and then more shuffling around. “I can’t sleep,” she complained. “Why did you stop reading?”

  She was irritable, and it had nothing to do with the reading. That shouldn’t have meant anything to me, but it did. I knew what she needed and withholding it now wouldn’t be fair. I moved closer, leaving the blankets between us, and wrapped my arm around her waist.

  She sighed, and I did too. We were closer than ever, skin to skin. Our forearms melding together as our beating hearts found synchronicity between our breaths. I wanted her. And the realization was so overpowering at that moment, I didn’t know what to do with it. It had been a long time since I’d wanted anything.

  She turned her face toward mine, her breath blowing across my chest as she spoke. “You’re burning up again. Do you have a fever?”

  I wished I could say that I did, but that wasn’t my problem. My problem was that it should have felt wrong when I lowered my face to hers. It should have felt dirty when my lips dragged against hers and froze there. She should have pulled away, and I should have stopped. But neither of us moved. And when my fingers found the tender flesh of her throat, I drew her closer, tasting what was never meant to be mine.

  She didn’t make a sound. Her lips parted on a silent gasp, and I inhaled her breath. I dug my fingers into her skin and hated myself for doing this to her. For wanting her. My cock was hard and long, and my thoughts were short.

  I couldn’t.

  I couldn’t.

  I couldn’t.

  My lips broke away from hers. She was swollen from my kiss, and I was emptier than I thought a broken man could be. But for the first time in a decade, I remembered what it was like to be whole.

  THE SHOWER WAS ALREADY RUNNING in the bathroom when the alarm on the nightstand went off. I rolled onto my back with a groan, covering my face with my arm as the offending sunlight streamed through the curtain.

  I was not a morning person. For so long, my days had been dictated by me. I could sleep in as long as I wanted, and I could work when I wanted. I decided everything because I was the captain of my own ship. I lived a hedonistic lifestyle, and I didn’t regret it. But my life had taken a complete one eighty since Lucian barged onto my ship and took the wheel.

  A glance at the clock, confirmed it was seven a.m., and I knew that Lucian got up every day at six thirty. I was surprised he wasn’t already in here, freshly showered and dressed, prodding me to get up.

  Curiosity drove me to my feet, and I caved in to my urge to see what he was doing. It was none of my business, and already, the lines between us were blurring. From cuddling me every night to kissing me, things were progressing at a snail’s pace, but they were still progressing. It needed to stop. What I couldn’t figure out was why I hadn’t.

  When he kissed me, it felt like he’d tasered me too. Sparks shot through my body, and heat burned in the depths of my belly. I think I might have even kissed him back. It should have felt dirty; the way I always remembered feeling when a man touched me. I’d felt that way with every con, and all the others before them who lined up to take a piece of my soul. But with Lucian, it was different, and I was afraid to acknowledge that maybe it was because this time I wanted it.

  As further evidence of my growing sickness, I found myself in front of the bathroom door. It was wide open. He hadn’t bothered to shut it because he knew he usually had to wake me. This morning, he hadn’t counted on me standing there. He hadn’t counted on my curiosity driving me to the edge of the bedroom where the carpet met the tile. And he certainly hadn’t counted on me finding him like this.

  His back was turned away, his head tilted toward the floor as hot water beat down on his skin. One hand was pressed against the shower wall, and the other was fisted around his cock. He tugged on the angry, swollen member so hard it looked painful. But so were the sounds he tried to stifle in his throat. The grunts and groans of a man who seemed as though he hated what he was doing. Perhaps even hated himself.

  It was a moment so
intimate it felt wrong to bear witness, but I couldn’t find it in me to move. I watched him until he came all over the shower floor, releasing himself but not his demons. His shoulders sagged, and his head fell forward, but there was no satisfaction in the aftermath.

  My lungs burned with the need for air, and my heart beat so viciously against my chest that I felt dizzy. There was something so kindred at this moment between us. A moment he didn’t even know we were sharing.

  I could feel his emptiness. His self-hatred. And as heat flooded the space between my thighs, I wondered if he’d been thinking of me.

  All I could think about was how this man had managed to get under my skin. The man who went to church on Sundays and blackmailed unsuspecting women like me in his free time. He looked dark as sin, but I couldn’t deny there was light inside him too.

  I couldn’t deny that when my eyes moved over the lines of his body and the Revelation tattoo on his back, something awful had happened to him. I knew it in my soul. And if I was going to preserve my sanity, I would need to uncover it, and inevitably, use it against him.

  “I’ll be here at four to pick you up.”

  I glanced across the seat at Lucian and gave him a stiff nod. My nerves hadn’t let up the entire ride to the learning center, and I didn’t think I could really do this. Already, I was busy making plans to leave the moment he drove off, consequences be damned. But Lucian had other ideas. He turned off the ignition and unbuckled.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m walking you in.”

  He got out of the car and came around to my side, but I still couldn’t move. I didn’t know why the idea seemed so daunting, but it had occurred to me that I was probably going to look like an idiot as soon as the class started. I could already feel the humiliation of being the last to complete every test and assignment. Or the horror when the teacher might call on me for an answer I didn’t know.

  “I don’t want to do this,” I said. “Please don’t make me, Lucian. I’ll do something else. I can study online—”