Page 129 of When She Tempts (The Fallen)
I’m not sure anymore.
Before what happened in New York, my life had been completely different.Ihad been completely different. When I remember that girl, I can hardly recognize her anymore. Maybe instead of anchoring myself to the past, I need to start thinking more about the future.
I finish off the wine with two large gulps and place the empty glass down on the coffee table. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
Vale smiles. “I know. Take your time.”
Yawning, I rub the heels of my palms over my eyes. “I think I better get some sleep. Can you show me to my room? I think I’ll get lost if I try to find it on my own.”
She leads me upstairs and points to a door. “It’s this one. Sophia’s still resting. We made her a makeshift bed with some pillows and blankets, but I’ll get one of the guys to buy her a proper one tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I say, leaning my head on her shoulder. “I know the circumstances are not ideal, but I’m happy to be back with you two.”
She wraps an arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. “Me too.”
I’m halfway through the door when she says my name.
“Yeah?” I ask, glancing at her over my shoulder.
“I’ve put Giorgio in the bedroom down the hall. Dem and I are downstairs in case you wake up and need anything.”
Our eyes lock, mine wide, hers glinting knowingly.
Heat blooms over my cheeks. “Okay, thanks.”
I slip into the bedroom and press my back against the door. I can’t shake off the feeling that she told me exactly where Giorgio will be on purpose, but how would she know? Either she has the world’s best intuition, or my feelings are way too obvious.
Probably a bit of both.
I sit down on the floor beside Sophia and pet her bristly fur while she takes a well-deserved nap. This dog is a freaking hero.
My throat tightens. Her master might be gone, but I’m going to take good care of her while she’s here. Tommaso would have been so proud of her for having my back.
I sniff and press the heels of my palms against my eyes.
Another cruel fluke of fate.
In the bathroom, I wash up, brush my teeth, and slip on my pajamas, but I know I won’t be able to sleep. When the house quiets, I’m going to sneak out and talk to Giorgio, because I need to know what the hell is going on.
Maybe when it’s just the two of us, everything will go back to the way it was. He owes me a damn apology for how he behaved earlier, but after everything that happened, I just crave to be in his arms again. I want the heat of his body and the comfort of his scent, and most of all, I want the peace I feel whenever I’m with him.
While I wait, I reach for my phone and pull up Imogen. My last message to her stares up at me. It’s the one from the night of my birthday, when all I could think about was how badly I wanted Giorgio to kiss me. After he did, everything was different. I had him to talk to then, but I’m alone again now.
Im, I miss you. I hope you’re having a good time wherever you are. Can you see the mess happening back here on Earth? It isn’t pretty.
I slept with Giorgio. Did a lot more than that actually… I might have fallen in love with him, but I can’t be sure because I’ve never done that before. You fell in love with someone once. Antonio, from math class. I remember how your eyes shone and you couldn’t stop smiling when you told me about him. I wonder if I’d look like that if I got the chance to tell you about Giorgio.
I send off the message and start typing the next one.
Love or not, I’m scared he doesn’t feel the same. He doesn’t want Dem to know about us, so he’s acting like I don’t exist, even though I need him now more than ever. I’m angry, and yet I miss him more than anything. How strange is that? I’ve never felt these simultaneous extremes before I met him.
I know I can’t make him love me if he doesn’t, but at the very least, I want him to understand how horrible he made me feel. You’d probably tell me I’m crazy for chasing after a guy who doesn’t want me with all of his heart, but I just can’t leave it like this. I need to talk to him.
I read over the messages, then place my phone back on the nightstand and wait.
It’s…not the same.
The usual sense of relief I’ve come to associate with sending these texts doesn’t come. Anxiety simmers beneath my skin, insistent and uncomfortable.
