Page 30 of Veil of the Past
“For what?” she asks, her voice barely more than a breath.
“For being here,” I say simply, because it’s the only truth I know right now. “For… just being you.”
She smiles at that, a small, sleepy smile that makes my heart ache in a way I can’t explain. She snuggles closer, tucking her head under my chin, her breath warm against my neck.
“I’m not going anywhere, Romiro,” she whispers, her voice a soft promise in the dark. “Not unless you ask me to.”
I close my eyes, holding her tighter, my hand continuing to stroke her hair, feeling the silky strands slip between my fingers. I don’t answer, because I don’t trust myself to speak. I don’t want her to go, but I don’t know if I can keep her safe if she stays.
We lie there in the quiet, our bodies entwined, the room dark and still around us. I listen to the sound of her breathing, steady and calm, and let it soothe the storm inside me. I feel her relax against me, her body growing heavy with sleep, and I keep my fingers moving through her hair, gentle and slow, afraid to wake her.
I should be thinking about what to do next. I should be planning, strategizing, figuring out how to handle Helen, how to protect Alessia, and how to keep everything from falling apart. But for now, in this moment, I just want to hold her. Just for a little longer.
I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo. It smells like something floral and sweet, something that reminds me of better times, of simpler times. Times before everything got so damn complicated.
She stirs slightly in her sleep, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt, and I feel a strange sort of peace settle over me. I know it won’t last. I know the morning will bring new challenges, new threats, new battles to fight. But for now, in this quiet, dark room, with her in my arms, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Hope.
I let my eyes close, my hand still moving through her hair, and for the first time in what feels like years, I allow myself to just… breathe. To just be here, with her, in this moment.
Whatever comes next, whatever the future holds, I’ll face it.
We’llface it. Together.
14
ALESSIA
Music fills my apartment, “Cruel Summer” spilling out of the speakers with a steady beat that matches the pulse in my veins. I stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom, leaning close to apply a final swipe of deep red lipstick. It’s a bold color, the kind that makes my mouth look just a bit more dangerous; I press my lips together, feeling the matte finish settle. I take a step back, studying my reflection.
My hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, my curtain bangs falling just slightly over my forehead. I push them back with a quick flick of my fingers, liking the way they frame my face. I’m wearing a black leather jacket—hisleather jacket. I stole it from Romiro four months ago after he left it at my place, and I never gave it back. Underneath rests a short, cream-colored cotton dress. The worn leather smells faintly of him still, of smoke and something else, something that feels like trouble and safety all at once.
The music swells as I take a deep breath, feeling the excitement buzz under my skin. Tonight is different. Tonight, there’s no hiding, no pretending. I smooth my hands over the jacket, feeling the familiar weight of it on my shoulders, and I feel a shiver of anticipation rush through me.
Then, there’s a knock at the door, three sharp raps that echo through the room. I glance at the clock—he’s right on time, like always. I turn down the volume of the music, my heart pounding a little faster as I make my way to the door. I open it, and there he is—Romiro, leaning casually against the doorframe, a cigarette between his lips, smoke curling lazily around his face.
His dark eyes flick over me, and I see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, Red,” he murmurs, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and flicking it away. “Looking for trouble?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “Maybe,” I reply, stepping aside to let him in. He steps forward, and as he passes, he leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin.
My heart skips a beat, and I turn to see him bending down to greet Mr. Marvin, who’s already winding around his legs, purring loudly. “Hey, buddy,” Romiro says, scratching behind his ears. “Keeping Red in line?”
I laugh softly, leaning against the door as I close it. “He’s doing his best,” I say, and Romiro straightens, his gaze locking onto mine.
He takes a step closer, and I feel the air shift between us, charged, electric. “You really are gorgeous,” he says again, his voice lower, rougher. His hand reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my cheek, just a moment longer than necessary.
I lean into his touch, my breath catching in my throat. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I manage, my voice a little unsteady. He’s devastating, and he knows it. His lips curve into a knowing smile, and he steps closer, his hand sliding down to my waist, pulling me to him.
He guides me backward, pressing me against the kitchen counter, the edge digging into my back, but I don’t care. His fingers are at my waist, then lower, pushing up the hem of my dress. I bite back a gasp as his hand slips under the fabric, his touch firm and unapologetic.
“Romiro,” I whisper, my hands gripping the edge of the counter, my knuckles white.
He smirks, his lips brushing against my neck. “What is it, Red?” he asks, his voice teasing, dark. His fingers find their way to the heat between my thighs, sliding against my panties, and I feel a rush of desire flood my senses.
“Oh, God,” I moan softly, my head falling back as his touch grows rougher, more insistent.
“Not God, Red,” he murmurs against my skin, his breath hot against my ear. “Romiro.”
