20. Sofia

20

SOFIA

I stir awake to the harsh buzz of my phone, wrapped in Tyson’s strong arms. After he comforted me and gave me the best orgasm I’ve ever had in the wake of Paulie being a jackass, I spent three nights in his bed here at the carnival.

The warm cocoon of his body makes me want to ignore the intrusion, but Paulie’s name flashes on the screen. My stomach drops. We haven’t spoken since the argument.

“Where the fuck are you?” Paulie’s voice cuts through the peaceful morning.

I ease out of Tyson’s embrace, careful not to wake him. “I stayed at Sasha’s last night.” The lie rolls off my tongue with practiced ease. “Just heading home now.”

“Sasha’s?” His tone drips with suspicion. “She’ll back that up if I ask?”

A smile tugs at my lips. Sasha’s been covering for me since we were teenagers sneaking out to parties. She’d lie to the devil himself if it meant protecting me .

“Of course, she will. You can call her right now if you want.”

“And what about what we discussed. I told you to tell me when you stay somewhere other than your home.”

I grind my teeth. “Considering the last time we spoke, we had a fucking row, I didn’t think to notify you.”

“Whatever,” he grunts and hangs up.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Everything okay, baby girl?” Tyson’s sleep-rough voice sends shivers down my spine.

I turn to find him watching me through heavy-lidded eyes, his chest bare and inviting. Seeing him makes me want to crawl back into bed and forget about the rest of the world.

I sink back onto the bed beside him, his warmth drawing me in. My fingers trace the hard planes of his chest, remembering how his muscles flexed beneath my touch last night.

“Just Paulie being Paulie,” I mutter, but the name tastes bitter on my tongue now.

Tyson pulls me closer, and I breathe in his scent - a mix of leather and something uniquely him. “You deserve better than that snake.”

He’s right. Last night, Tyson worshipped every curve, every soft edge of my body. His hands claimed me with reverence, not criticism.

“The way you look at me...” I trace one of his tattoos. “No one’s ever made me feel so beautiful.”

“Because you are beautiful.” His fingers thread through my hair. “Every gorgeous inch of you. ”

I think about Paulie’s cold touches and his mechanical kisses. There’s no fire like Tyson ignites in me. Where Paulie demands I change, Tyson celebrates who I am. The arranged marriage my father set up feels more suffocating than ever.

“You make me feel alive,” I whisper against his skin. “Like I can be myself without apologizing.”

His arms tighten around me. “That’s exactly who I want you to be. No pretending. No hiding.”

The truth of his words settles deep in my chest. With Tyson, I don’t have to be Jimmy Moretti’s perfect daughter or Paulie’s proper wife-to-be. I can just be Sofia, curves and all, and that’s exactly what I want.

I pull away from Tyson’s warmth, reality crashing back like a bucket of ice water. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Why not, baby girl?”

“Because you’ll end up dead.” I sit up, wrapping the sheet around myself. “If my father found out, he’d have you killed. And if not him, then Paulie would do it himself. They don’t share what they consider theirs.”

Tyson’s laugh surprises me. Deep and rich, completely unfazed by my warning. “You underestimate me, Sofia. I’ve been in this game longer than you think. I’m not that easy to kill.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m thirty-eight. Been running things since before you were legal.”

I whip around to face him. “Thirty-eight? But I thought...” My eyes trace over his face, searching for signs I missed. Sure, there are subtle lines around his eyes when he smiles, but nothing that tells me he’s in his late thirties.

“Thought I was closer to your age?” His fingers brush my cheek. “Does it bother you?”

“I’m twenty-six,” I say, still processing. “And no, it doesn’t bother me. I just... you don’t look thirty-eight.”

“Good genes.” His cocky grin returns. “But more importantly, I’ve survived this long because I know how to handle myself. Your father and Paulie aren’t the only ones with connections.”

I trace my fingers over the sheet, lost in thought. “Every night with you is better than the last. And I love that you don’t monitor what I eat, but this can’t continue. We’re kidding ourselves.”

Tyson’s hand slides over mine. “I’d never monitor what you eat. I want you to be real with me. No pretending, no counting calories.”

My chest tightens with the admission. “With you, everything feels so free and unrestrained.”

But freedom comes with a price. I’ve seen what happens to people who cross my father. The memory of my father’s former associate’s “disappearance” sends a chill down my spine.

“I can’t let anything happen to you.” The words catch in my throat. “My father... The things he’s capable of...”

“And what about what you’re capable of?” Tyson’s questions. “You’re stronger than you think, baby girl. The real you, not the perfect daughter act.”

He’s right. With him, I feel alive for the first time in years. No judgment, no expectations. Just me, being exactly who I wanted to be. The carnival I’d initially turned my nose up at became a haven of freedom. Even now, the memory of walking with Tyson through the twinkling lights makes my heart race.

“I want to choose my own life,” I whisper, more to myself than him. “I’m tired of being told who to be, what to eat, how to act. But wanting something and having the courage to take it are two different things.”

His fingers trace my jaw, tilting my face to meet his gaze. “You’re not some delicate flower that needs protecting. I’ve seen your fire, your strength. The way you stood up to me when we first met? That’s who you really are.”

My heart stutters at his words. No one’s ever spoken to me like this before. Even Sasha, bless her heart, treats me like I need saving from my family, Tyson, and myself.

“But my best friend said?—”

“What? That I’m dangerous?” His thumb brushes across my bottom lip. “I won’t deny I pursued you hard. But that’s because I saw past the mask you wear for everyone else. I saw you.”

Tears prick at my eyes. He’s right. From that first confrontation in the carnival, he’s been the only one to challenge me, to push back against my walls instead of trying to shelter me behind them.

“You think I’m strong?” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.

“I know you are. The question is, do you believe it?”

I think about how everyone in my life treats me - Dad’s overprotective control, Paulie’s constant criticism, even Sasha’s well-meaning concern. They all see me as something to be managed, fixed, or saved.

But Tyson? He sees me as an equal. Yes, he’s intense. Yes, his pursuit of me bordered on obsessive. But he’s never once tried to change me or cage me. He wants me exactly as I am—curves and attitude.

“Maybe I am strong enough,” I whisper, leaning into his touch. “I’ve never had anyone believe in me like this before.”

His eyes darken with something fierce and protective but not suffocating like Dad’s protection. This feels like having someone at my back, supporting me, not trying to direct my path.

“Then believe in yourself like I believe in you. You’re not just Jimmy Moretti’s daughter or Paulie’s fiancée. You’re Sofia. And that’s more than enough.”

I stand up from the bed, letting the sheet fall away as I gather my clothes. My hands are steady as I slip my dress back on, no longer feeling the shame or uncertainty from before.

“I’m done living by everyone else’s rules,” I say, turning to face Tyson. “Done letting Dad control my life, done letting Paulie tear me down. I’m taking back control.”

Tyson watches me from the bed, a mix of pride and desire in his eyes. “That’s my girl.”

“I mean it.” I smooth my dress, checking my reflection in his small trailer mirror. “I’m going to tell Dad I won’t marry Paulie. I don’t care about the business alliance or his other reasons. It’s my life.”

“Come here,” Tyson beckons me over. When I reach him, he pulls me down for a kiss that makes my toes curl. His lips are firm against mine, possessive but not controlling. When we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine. “Show them who you really are, baby girl.”

I grab my purse and phone, squaring my shoulders. “I will. No more perfect daughter act. No more letting them decide my future.”

Tyson’s kiss still burns on my lips as I head for the trailer door. My heart pounds, but not from fear – from excitement. For the first time in my life, I feel truly powerful, truly in control.