Silent Sins ✓ ( book 1) Editing in Progress

Chapter 49

3600 words
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It took me a while to get Ethan off me after he demanded a hug. Jason left with the briefest of nods and shot his twin a look that perhaps bordered on resentment. Ethan and I were the closest when growing up. He was the one I bickered with, and without ever truly realising it, he was the one I suffered alongside with.

I hate to imagine what he endured when the Mafia beat him to a pulp. How many times did they pay him a visit? I shiver at the thought. If I found myself in that horrific situation, I would have drunk myself to death a long time ago.

My loose grey jumper falls at my hips, and I hug the fabric. Even in this warmth, I feel a sudden chill as I walk towards his office. I crave to feel comfortable again. Crave to forget the drama and the misfortunes.

I crave Romero.

The door is open, giving me a perfect view of that raven man. He's standing by the window; shadowed by clouds once again, with hands in his pockets and his jaw clenched stiffly.

I linger at the entrance and clear my throat. He turns and the look he gives me has my knees buckling. Pure, taunting dominance.

"Hey."

I offer a smile and step forward, but it falters at the sight of his distant eyes.

Your thoughts might plague you in the night, but mine lay on my conscience throughout the day.

"What are you doing?"

He blinks and the colours seem to drain from his eyes. "Come look." He cocks his head toward the window. I hold the reins of my smile and shut the door, willing my feet to move.

The patter of my footsteps seems to amplify the longer he drowns the room in silence. My heart becomes a melody. My breaths become a soft white noise.

From here, I take in the twigs, and the creeping mist and the wet wood. If I walk through that forest, I might as well be stepping into a hidden dimension. Tempting. The idea of running from today seems so appealing right now, but standing in this room with Romero eases my anxieties, even if he's not fully here.

I rest my hand on the window and condensation outlines my hand. I feel like I'm trapped in a glass box, and the world is pouring around me.

"It's beautiful," I whisper.

"It is." If rivers had a voice, it would sound like Romero. His rough tone is enough to scrape rocks on a streambed.

He loops his arm around my waist and pulls me back into his chest. "Like you."

I bite my lip to contain my shock and swear that my heart is beaming from my chest.

I turn in his grasp and meet his gaze, expecting to see something meaningful and bright in those eyes, but I'm met with dark despair. Black ink has spoiled those blues, and the pain that consumes them is so raw that it hurts to look at.

"Romero."

"Innocent." He continues. "Untainted. Soft. New."

"Romero," I say firmer, but it comes out weaker than I imagined.

He shakes his head and backs away, dropping his hands from my waist. "I am wrong for you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demand, desperately.

He shuts his eyes like my voice is torturing him. "I don't want to hurt you, Amara"

Whether it be my heart or my gut, everything seems to fall out of place. "I don't understand."