The ceiling was silent, telling me that Cecilia was probably in bed. I envisioned her the way she looked when she came out of the bathroom wearing nothing more than a towel, her long hair wet and tangled. At first my gaze had gone to her lower arms and lower legs. It wasn’t because I wanted to see her injuries.
My attention went to those areas because in that moment and time she was allowing me to see them.
I couldn’t explain that sensation; it was as if she trusted me with her pain.
Cecilia didn’t know me. She didn’t know that I wasn’t a trustworthy man. If I had been, my life would be different. I wouldn’t be traveling the world alone as a gun-for-hire or a mercenary. I wouldn’t have the Dellinger princess sleeping in the middle of nowhere and the mob boss of San Diego most likely on my trail.
As she stood in that bathroom doorway, I quickly refocused on her.
That one word had an all-inclusive meaning.
The all of her.
I wasn’t fixated on the towel or what it hid. I was obsessed with her—the entirety. Her fucking doe-like eyes resonated into my soul, brimming with emotion, dark and deep. If I stared long enough, I’d be sucked into their gravitational force, into a black hole.
I couldn’t let that happen.
One day I’d be delivering Cecilia to one coast or the other.
That eventual decision wasn’t debatable.
Aleatha Romig is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Indiana, USA. She grew up in Mishawaka, graduated from Indiana University, and is currently living south of Indianapolis. Aleatha has raised three children with her high school sweetheart and husband of over thirty years. Before she became a full-time author, she worked days as a dental hygienist and spent her nights writing. Now, when she’s not imagining mind-blowing twists and turns, she likes to spend her time a with her family and friends. Her other pastimes include reading and creating heroes/anti-heroes who haunt your dreams and bring your imagination to life!