He reverses out of the parking spot and loops back to the place where we exited the stairwell. Farther down the wall, a cut in the wall opens to another short hallway, and once again, the sign that reads,in case of a fire, use stairwell.
“They park here and use the service elevators. The main elevators are on the other side of this wall,” he says solemnly, dropping his hands from the steering wheel to his lap. “They don’t like using the same elevator as the janitors, but I don’t like it when they put everything my family has worked for at risk, you know.”
Dog does a circle on my lap before collapsing into a ball, tucking his head inside Wilder’s jacket. I rake my fingers through his fur, wishing I could tuck my face inside Wilder’s jacket, too. I settle for sweeping my nose along the lapel, inhaling the same sandalwood and amber scent that lingers on his bare skin.
“Why did they show up like that, Wilder?”
My question snaps him out of his reverie. The car lights streak across the wall, and we turn around so quickly, the tires spin.
“Money. Power. Hush,” he says, exiting the parking garage and pulling out onto the main road. “They’ve let Lydia operate for six months without interfering, but it was only a matter of time before they showed up to collect. Giovanni’s making a point.”
I watch the Ridge & Sons building shrink in the side mirror the farther we drive away. We’ve left Lydia and Talent in the trenches to fend for themselves, and I’m equal parts ashamed for leaving and irate because they gave me no choice about it. There’s strength in numbers, and right now, they’re the minority.
“Oh, yeah? What’s the point?”
“They control everything.” Wilder downshifts and takes the corner, heading in the direction of the apartment. The city lights and stoplights give way to suburban streetlights and stop signs. “But mark my fucking words, Camilla. Luca’s number is up.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I admit, wishing the drive had lasted longer.
“It means if that motherfucker so much as looks at you again, it’ll be the last thing he does.” Streetlamps throw shadows across Wilder’s face in rapid succession, painting his pained expression into a dangerous one.
A surge of heat bursts through the palms of my hands, and I slide them under my legs to keep from shaking. In the elevator, Luca Coppola said,I have dibs on her.Does that mean Giovanni doesn’t only want a cut from the profit, but control of the entire operation? Control of Lydia and her girls? Control of me?
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I say with a forced laugh, hoping to distract him from the trembling I can’t seem to keep away. “Why do you care if he looks at me or not? You haven’t talked to me in months.”
Wilder parks along the curb in front of the apartment complex, in the same spot Talent parked this exact car on the morning I stood in wet grass and Wilder slept in my bed. He turns off the engine and gets out, slamming the door hard enough to shake the entire car and startle Dog. He growls at Wilder’s shadowy figure as he circles around the back and pulls open my door.
The chill in the air has turned frigid, and Wilder’s breath comes out in clouds when he squats down in front of me and says, “It kills me to think about you with another man, Camilla, but I will kill Luca Coppola if he goes near you again.”
Sinking farther into Wilder’s blazer before he asks for it back, I exhale a depleted breath and ask, “You won’t talk to me, but you’ll kill for me?”
“What was I supposed to do? What do you think that night was for me?”
“Honestly, you were drunk and I’m a whore, so we did what drunk men do with whores.”
Pretending we didn’t have sex hurts less than acknowledging what I really think happened the night I invited Wilder Ridge into my bed. It’s what makes the most sense. After a night of drama and drinking, he found relief inside my body, and I was desperate enough to be touched by him, I didn’t care about the circumstances.
Until I did.
Sins of the flesh are obvious, and I’m immoral. Now I have to live with the consequences, even if it feels like I can’t breathe.
“Camilla, stop,” Wilder calls out. He curses under his breath, and I hear the car alarm engage before the sound of his footsteps catching up to me.
“I’m capable of walking to my apartment by myself, Wilder. Babysitting duties are over. You’re free to leave and not speak to me again.” I close his jacket around my body, deciding that he’s not getting it back after all.
“Dammit, Camilla, talk to me.” He seizes my wrist and pulls me to a complete stop.
“What’s there to talk about?”
The brightest stars in the sky shine through the thinning veil of cloud cover, and the scent of the salty ocean is sharper than the passing rainstorm. We stare at each other at a loss for words, or maybe he’s deciding how to let me down softly. I’ve already decided that I’ll take the hit if it means I can watch the way half a dozen porch lights glimmer in his eyes for a little longer.
I spent most of my life trapped in a dark house or locked in a closet. Every day since I escaped that prison, I look for the light in everything. I’ve yet to find any in myself, but the ambiance in Wilder’s eyes is so far the best.
“I’m not like my brother.” His laugh turns to vapor in the frigid air. Wilder looks away, palming the back of his neck. “He’s inherently good, but I’m—”
“Stop talking because it’s fine. You don’t have to explain anything to me, Wilder. I’m sure you treat all of Lydia’s girls the same way, and I am what I am. I should never have expected more from you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Wilder says. “I’ve never met another one of Lydia’s girls. It’s not like we have prostitutes coming in and out of the office.”
