Page 60 of Great White
“Of course, there was passion, we were having sex,” I hiss.
“No. There is sex and then there is love. I saw love.”
My heart starts to beat a little faster from this conversation. What I feel for Tate is my own business. Stefania knows how private I am.
“I can’t fall in love. Not with my past and not with my present. I’d only be asking for trouble.”
“Palomita, when we got into this business, I swore to myself that I would sacrifice nothing, and I’m not. I am going to love the man I want to love and live the life I deserve. And you should too. You have suffered at the hands of your past enough. Allow yourself to be happy. Even just a little bit.”
I look away from Stefania. Me and happiness have never really gone hand in hand.
“It is not that easy.”
“It can be, if you let it.”
“He’ll hurt me in the end. They all do.” It’s what I truly believe, even if Tate is different. I’ve never been with a man like him. I’ll admit it. He’s strong, attentive, funny, confident, albeit a little annoying at times, but I’ve come to overlook that. And he isn’t some chauvinistic prick who’s looking to control me. Or break me down. That about sums up every man I’ve ever been with, with an extra helping of physical and emotional abuse on the side. It doesn’t matter how long ago it happened, or how much you or your life has changed, there is always that lingering threat of the past. Those terrifying times you feared for your life. The pain of the punch, the sting of the smack, the silent death of violation. The complete corrosion of your spirit.
You forget who you are. Forget how to fight and just live in a bubble of dread. And even though I broke out of that bubble, the memories will never truly fade. The past became a part of me I can never outrun. It’s branded inside of me, right in the middle of my chest. Even if I wanted to fall in love with Tate, I don’t know if I’m even capable. I’m broken. I went from a wounded sparrow to a bird of prey. Can a killer even love? The physical I can feel. The emotional, I’m numb. Or is Stefania right? Do I have the ability to care about someone again?
I try not to think about it. It’s too much to comprehend. I have more important things to worry about, like protecting our budding little cartel from being ripped apart by Raffi and his insatiable appetite for greed and power.
“That is the risk you take with every relationship.”
“That’s true. You hurt me, too,” I call her out.
She knows exactly what I’m getting at. “You told me you didn’t care about him. That you weren’t interested. You lied.”
“So you exploited my feelings by sleeping with him.”
“I helped bring them to the surface,” she argues. “Helped you face them. You can resent me if you want, but I did what I did for the two of you.”
“And a little bit for you.”
“Well, you can’t fault me for having the same taste in men. If you never forbade me to see Marco, things may have ended up very different. Your pussycat would still need to be stroked.”
I roll my eyes. She loves that fucking metaphor.
“So you’re not upset at all we’re fucking.”
“You’re doing more than fucking. Let’s be real. And no, Tate was fun, but he never belonged to me, and vice versa. I knew it was inevitable. It just took longer than expected. I underestimated your stubbornness.”
“You tend to do that.”
“Not as much anymore. I’m just more susceptible to affairs of the heart. And I wasn't lying when I said he was a phenomenal lover. Iwastalking about myself in that instance.”
Hearing her say that makes my chest burn with a surprising possessiveness. That sly smile returns to Stefania ’s face. “Don’t worry,Palomita. What Tate and I had is over. I won’t go after him again.” She leans in a little. “Unless you force me to.”
There have been very few times I have ever wanted to lash out at Stefania. Right now is one of them. The thought of her ever putting her hands on him, the thought of any other woman putting their hands on Tate, has me seething. It’s a strange new emotion. One I’ve never felt before. Possessive over a man? How absurd, and alarming, and yet so intrinsically corporeal. Emotions are the damn devil.
“You could try, but I don't think Marco would appreciate that betrayal very much. He looked like he wanted to rip Tate’s head off the other night.”
“I would never betray Marco,” Stefania gasps dramatically. “He is the love of my life. We are star-crossed.”
“I don’t think that’s good.” I cut a piece of French toast and shove it in my mouth.
“He is who my soul needs.”
“And where does that leave us? Our business? Every minute you’re together is another minute we’re in jeopardy.”
