Chapter Twelve

Delilah

S erafino was already in bed—it was after midnight—when I climbed in beside him. My entire body twinged with aches and pain, though nothing could be half as bad as the hurt deep inside my chest. He'd taken me again in the shower, and though my body had responded with yet another orgasm, a piece of me had fractured at his aloofness.

He'd been a machine, without feeling or care, as he'd hammered inside me. I'd never felt more vulnerable, mostly because I'd yearned for the man I'd glimpsed earlier whose emotions had been accessible, a man who had shamelessly wanted all of me, not just my body.

Now he was just another mafia man, a cruel, closed man who shared nothing but his physical needs with me.

You should be glad. It will make it that much easier to walk away in the morning.

Except I was so far away from glad I was close to crying.

A frown creased his brow. "Hey, what's wrong? If I hurt you—"

"No," I interjected hoarsely. "I'm fine."

But I wasn't fine. He knew it. I knew it. I just hoped he wouldn't push the issue because I just might break after all.

I couldn't have been more grateful when he snaked an arm around me and drew me close, his warmth seeping into my pores and calming me, my tense muscles slowly unknotting and my breathing steadying.

"Good," he purred next to my ear, "because my body can't get enough of yours."

His body, not him.

I knew the meaning behind his words. He'd use me again tonight, sate his physical needs, then he'd discard me come morning. That he'd scared off another client no longer really made any sense. He clearly had no real feelings for me.

It was odd how much that hurt. I didn't develop feelings for any of the men I slept with, it was unprofessional and...dumb. I was usually more than willing to leave a client behind without looking back.

But I knew, deep in my heart, that Serafino would leave mental scars that mightn't ever fully heal.

He reached between my legs and cupped my sex, using his thumb to part the petals of my sex to find the plump jewel within. I couldn't help but groan as he pressed on it then massaged with circular little strokes that left me mewling like an alley cat.

When he tossed me onto my stomach and pushed into me from behind, I didn't protest, not even with the burning jolt of his oversized entry. I deserved to be punished for my growing feelings toward him. I deserved to be reminded exactly what I was here for.

Then I lost all capacity for thought as he lifted my hips and slammed deeper inside me, his savagery...breathtaking.

*

I woke with the first rays of dawn light filtering through the curtains in a weak orange glow, the relentless noise of New York traffic the faintest hum thanks to what I imagined must be quality soundproofing. Serafino's steady, even breathing tickled my nape

Not that I was dwelling on my visual or auditory senses.

With his arms wrapped tightly around me, imprisoning me, his touch was as comforting as much as it was suffocating. His sandalwood and citrus scent, which I usually craved, made my stomach twist in rejection.

I knew better now than to want him, even if I had to trick myself into believing it. Even so, I knew deep down I wanted to stay like this with him, that I really didn't want to leave at all.

I savored being close to him for a few more minutes, then carefully slipped out of his hold before I pulled the bedcover over his bared, broad chest. Though I was tempted to push his mussed hair behind his ear, I resisted.

It was better that he didn't wake. Better that I didn't have to say goodbye. Better that I didn't have to pretend he hadn't affected me deeper than anyone had ever before.

Ignoring a wave of sadness, I slinked over to the walk-in-robe. Scanning the clothes he'd bought me, I selected a long peasant skirt in gray and peacock blue and an off the shoulder, short white blouse with blue trim on its hem that encircled my waist.

Once I was dressed, I picked up the high-heels he'd bought me so that I could slip out quietly.

I'd enjoy putting my overworked feet into the sheepskin slippers I had at home. I might even go back to bed and sleep the rest of the day and night away. I grimaced. It was the only positive I could muster knowing I was leaving my client for good. I hid a heavy sigh. I didn't dare linger any longer, as it was I had little enough strength to leave.

I didn't look back as I left the bedroom then grabbed my clutch bag from the kitchen. The moment I stepped into the elevator, I dug out my cellphone and rang Sinead for the agency car and driver.

"Are you okay?" Sinead asked, her voice a little scratchy and sharp.

"I'll live," I said shakily.

Silence throbbed between the airwaves, then she said, "Get some rest, yeah? I'll see you as soon as you wake up."

I frowned as she disconnected. I hadn't had a chance to tell her anything, not least that I needed to talk to her. The elevator doors opened and I stepped outside and waited on a bench seat outside. I guess I'd tell her I was leaving the agency tomorrow when I saw her.

I only had to wait ten minutes before the agency's white sedan glided to a stop at the side of the road. The driver stepped out to open my door, and I smiled at him and said, "Thanks Mickey."

"Any time, Delilah." He cocked his gray-haired head to the side as I slid into the backseat. "Are you okay?"

I giggled tiredly at the Déjà vu, then lied and said, "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

He nodded, though a deep crease marked his already craggy face. "You could do with some rest."

Had he and Sinead been drinking from the same fountain or something?

I leaned back in my seat. "I intend to."

He shut my door and walked around the car before he claimed the driver's seat. Seconds later he moved the sedan back into the stream of traffic.

I was about as numb as I'd ever been as I closed my eyes. I didn't reopen them again until forty minutes or so later when the car slowed, then stopped in front of my apartment building.

The driver opened my door and I climbed out with a grateful smile. "Thanks Mickey." I opened my clutch bag and gave him a handful of big bills. He'd been raising his two young grandsons alone after his single-mother daughter had tragically drowned in a boating accident. "Make sure you treat yourself."

His eyes widened, then glimmered wetly. "That isn't necessary—"

"But it is," I interjected. "This is my last chance to show you how much I appreciate what you've done for me and the other agency girls, and for those boys you took on."

"My grandsons are my pride and joy."

I smiled, though sadness tempered my happiness. If only I'd experienced that same love and devotion from my stepmother. I leaned close and admitted, "It's not official yet, but I'm retiring from the business."

"You are?" At my nod he said thickly, "I'm going to miss you, Delilah. Out of all the girls, you've always been my favorite."

"And you've always been my favorite driver. "

His chuckle pierced the noise of the traffic. "That's because I'm the only driver."

I winked. "Look after yourself, Mickey."

"You too, Delilah."

I gave him a quick hug, then stepped toward my building without looking back. I was getting good at that.

I rode the elevator up to the tenth floor, then stepped out into the faded-carpeted corridor, where I turned left and unlocked my door. I stepped inside, my appreciative gaze drifting around the small space that I'd made my own.

The white kitchen was counterbalanced by a teal backsplash, the white walls offset by the walnut-stained floorboards. There were also pops of color here and there, with teal cushions and throws on my big, white sofa and armchairs, and in the teal, navy-blue and white zigzag mat on the floor. Green lacy ferns in big copper pots gave the space some life.

A pity I didn't get to see it often enough.

That was about to change, though.

Dropping my clutch bag onto one of the three rattan bar stools, I headed straight to the shower. Standing under the hot spray, I scrubbed my body of any lingering scent that reminded me of Serafino. I needed to wipe him from my mind and move onto my next plan.

I was looking forward to making a new career that didn't involve sex...or a mobster who could so easily rip my heart out of my chest.

After drying myself and dragging on a flannelette nightie, I pushed my feet into sheepskin slippers— ah...bliss —then headed back through my bedroom and into the lounge room, straight to my corner bar.

Despite the early hour I badly needed a whiskey. It would be 9.00 PM somewhere in the world. Selecting an aged bottle from the top glass shelf, I poured a decent splash into a crystal tumbler, then swallowed the alcohol down with a sigh.

It was the little luxuries that reminded me how very lucky I was.

I didn't need Serafino in my life.

That my good mood instantly dimmed wasn't something I was ready to face. Not yet. Sleep was beckoning, and I couldn't wait to lose myself to unconsciousness.