Page 98 of Deceptive Desires

“I see her. She’s walking down the street, heading in the direction of the apartment. Everything seems normal… Oh, fuck,” he mutters.

“What?” I all but yell.

“Give me a second. I’m trying to find another angle,” he says uselessly, not explaining anything.

“Fucking telling me, Bash,” I growl.

“A hooded man grabbed her on the street and pulled her into an alley. The alley doesn’t have cameras, and she never reemerges onto the street. There’s another exit from the alley, but there aren’t any cameras. I’m setting up a street camera search looking for her through facial recognition and based off her outfit. It could take days, even with the small search radius. But I’m not finding anything on her or the man. I can’t even identify him,” he sighs, defeatedly.

“No. No one grabbed her. Why would someone grab her?” I know it’s denial speaking, but I can’t believe it.

“You’ve pissed off a lot of people. And you haven’t kept your connection to her a secret. Any one of them could’ve wanted her to get back at you.” It comes out accusingly.

I know they’ve been pissed about me handling the Bratva, but I never thought it’d come to this.

“If you had told her, maybe she could’ve been prepared,” my little brother doubles down on scolding me.

“Keep looking. Tell me if you find anything. I’m calling Dom,” I grind out before ending the call.

Anger courses through me because someone took her.

Someone took my sunshine.

And I’ll stop at nothing to get her back.

Chapter 72

Cecilia

Five weeks later…

I look around the café I work at, and sigh. After over a month in Marigold Valley, I still have trouble accepting the reality of my new life.

I have a job as a barista. It’s not bad, but it’s different. I live in a studio apartment and have a sweet elderly neighbor, Mr. Banks. He’s my only friend here. I’ve had some customers and coworkers try to initiate friendships, but I just don’t have it in me. I can’t let anyone in. I don’t know how to trust anymore. Not just others, but myself. I never doubted Roman, not for a minute. And look at how wrong I was.

My days feel meaningless. I work as much as possible, not that I’m desperate for money. With how frugal I’ve been, I still have plenty of what Leo gave me. He’s my only connection to my old life. To Cecilia María Álvarez Rivera. To the ghost of my past. But despite how hard he tries to stay connected, it hurts too much. I barely reply unless it’s about the people I care about. My family. Gracie… The Montclairs.

He only updates me on Roman’s family when it’s pertinent to their search. I know they’re still looking. All of them. So, I can’t reach out to my family yet.

But I care. More than I should. And not because of the problems they’re causing me. But because despite what they’ve done, despite who they are, I still love them.

I still love him.

I lift my hand to my long necklace chain, lift it from under my shirt, and hold the engagement ring. It’s the only thing I kept. I’ve tried to get rid of it so many times, but I just can’t.

Because despite how dumb it is, despite not even knowing the man, he’s still my Roman. My héroe.

I still have trouble connecting the monster to the hero.

I still have dreams about him. On the good nights, he’s holding me, caring for me, saving me. We’re back at the penthouse loving each other. And I wake up only to cry at my reality.

On the bad nights, I watch him torture and kill people I love. People I don’t know. Innocent people. And I wake up drenched in sweat.

Because of the dreams, I work every early shift I can. I work doubles most days. Always the one to pick up other’s shifts. I need the distraction, or I find myself wallowing in my depression.

After work, I head home every day.

My only joy is cooking dinner for Mr. Banks. He’s a kind man, never prying, but always here for me. I know he suspects I’m running from something, but he never asks.