I’m so exhausted someone could knock me over with a feather.
After one hell of a busy day, I’m taking a quick shower, and once I’m done, I quickly dry myself and lather my skin with lotion.
I’ve chosen to wear another new dress for my mystery man, hoping he’ll like it as much as the one I wore on Sunday.
While I get dressed, my thoughts turn to work. The only good thing is Mr. Vitale hasn’t been in the office much.
The sad part is, I think I’m starting to accept he’s a mafia boss, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
I mean, on one side, the job pays really well and I’m just a PA doing regular PA work. On the other side, he’s one of the heads of the Cosa Nostra.
Ugh, why do I bother fretting about it? It’s not like I can do anything to change my situation.
After I put on a pair of ballet flats, I quickly brush my hair and swipe some mascara on my lashes.
When I walk into the living room, I see a black scarf lying on the coffee table.
The blindfold.
I glance around the apartment but don’t see my mystery man.
Walking closer, I pick up the scarf and wrap it around my head.
Jesus, I can’t see a thing. Not even a shadow.
Not even a minute passes when I hear movement. I feel someone behind me, then he murmurs, “You look breathtaking, baby.”
A smile spreads over my face. “I wore the dress for you.”
“I’m honored.”
His hands frame my jaw, and when he presses a kiss to my lips, I realize he’s not wearing the ski mask.
My excitement grows tenfold, and I start to feel downright giddy.
My mystery man (not for much longer) wraps an arm around my lower back and leads me out of my apartment.
I keep wanting to put my arms up in front of me so I can stop myself from bumping into a wall or something.
He lets out a chuckle. “Trust me.”
“If you let me walk into something, I’m going to whack you with a spatula,” I say, my tone playful.
He chuckles again, and by the time he helps me into the car, I can’t contain my excitement.
With my eyes blindfolded, I’m overly conscious of every move he makes. I smell his spicy aftershave, which has hints of wood and coffee.
During the drive to his house, he puts on some music and doesn’t try to make conversation.
I’m too excited to try and think of something to talk about, so I keep quiet, hoping the next turn we take will bring us to our destination.
But it doesn’t, and he keeps driving.
When I grow impatient, I mutter, “Geez, do you live on the other side of the city?”
“No,” he chuckles just as the car starts to slow down. “We’re here.”
“Finally,” I whisper, suppressing the urge to clap my hands like a toddler on Christmas morning.
He brings the vehicle to a stop and says, “Wait for me to open the door.”
“Okay.”
I hear him move, and a few seconds later, the passenger door opens. He takes hold of my hand and helps me to climb out, before wrapping his arm around my lower back so he can lead me into the house.
“Careful, there are steps,” he murmurs.
I must look like an idiot as I try to gauge how high the steps are, but luckily, I don’t fall.
When the air changes and our steps sound different on the floor, I assume we’re inside his house.
“There are stairs, so I’m just going to carry you,” he mutters right before I’m airborne.
My mystery man holds me bridal style, and as laughter bursts from me, I wrap my arms around his neck.
“Careful. A girl can get used to being carried around,” I tease him.
“I don’t mind,” he chuckles.
It feels like we go up three flights of stairs before I’m placed down on my feet again.
Having been patient for so long, I ask, “Can I remove the blindfold?”
“Not yet.” His hands frame my face. “I just want to do one more thing.”
“What?”
I feel his breath on my lips, then his mouth covers mine. He doesn’t deepen the kiss but instead keeps still as if he’s savoring the moment.
It almost feels like a goodbye, which confuses me.
He pulls away, and taking hold of my shoulders, he turns me around so I’m standing with my back to him. As I feel him untying the knot, I find myself holding my breath.
This is it.
The fabric falls away from my eyes, then he says, “I love you, Samantha. Don’t ever forget that.”
My heartbeat speeds up, and I open my eyes.
The first thing I see is a black lounge chair and a coffee table.
Why does it look familiar?
I glance to my left and see a king-size bed that’s positioned by floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city.
I feel my face go numb before I realize why the room looks familiar.
No.
“Turn around,” he says.
I’m filled with a world of confusion because the man behind me still sounds caring and kind.
No.
When I remain frozen, and my body starts to tremble, I hear him move, and I quickly pinch my eyes shut.
“Samantha.”
“No.”
“Open your eyes.”
“No.”
Memories of my time with my mystery man flash through my mind.
Holding his hand.
Hugging him.
Crying in his arms.
Kissing him.
Telling him my darkest secret.
I feel his hand touch mine, and yanking away, my eyes fly open.
My vision focuses on Mr. Vitale. He’s wearing his Paradiso uniform and not the usual impeccable suit.
My gaze darts to his face, and in stunned disbelief, I stare at every handsome inch of him.
I shake my head wildly. “I…I…”
Suddenly, anger rips through my chest, and before I can stop myself, my hand flies through the air, but he moves faster than me and grabs hold of my wrist, stopping me from slapping him.
“How dare you,” I hiss as my face crumbles under the chaotic emotions warring in my chest.
He steps closer, and his tone is soft when he says, “I love you.”
“No!” I scream as I try to pull my wrist free from his hold. “You played me for a fool. Why? What did I do to you to deserve this?”
A sob bursts from my chest, only making me more angry because I don’t want to cry in front of him.
I begin to struggle against him, and he lets go of my wrist, but before I can move away from him, his arms lock around me.
He imprisons me against his chest, and feeling his strength, I know it’s no use fighting. But I can’t stop myself from trying.
“Let go!” I demand.
“I know it’s a shock, but I’m still the same man you fell in love with.”
God.
I shake my head wildly and push with my hands against his chest. “No, you’re not. The man I fell in love with is kind, and patient, and caring, and gentle,” I ramble. “You’re the complete opposite.”
When he tightens his hold on me, I cry, “Let me go. Please.”
He keeps an arm wrapped around me, and placing his hand behind my head, he presses my face against his chest.
I smell his aftershave, and it makes a fresh wave of tears burst from me.
“You’re safe with me, baby.”
He sounds like my mystery man, but he looks like Mr. Vitale, who’s made my life a living hell at the office.
The fight leaves me when I realize the man I fell in love with doesn’t exist. It was all some kind of sick game.
I told him everything. He comforted me.
He told me he loved me.
“It was all a lie,” I cry as my heart breaks. “How could you do that to me?”
“None of it was a lie,” he argues, his tone urgent. “I meant every word I said to you.”
As I cry my eyes out, the pieces fall into place.
That’s why I don’t have a panic attack when Mr. Vitale touches me. It’s because somehow my body recognized him while my mind refused to see the signs.
“God, how could I be so stupid?”
It’s because I needed someone so badly.
“You’re not stupid,” he says before pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
If I keep my eyes closed, I can pretend Mr. Vitale isn’t here.
Unable to deceive my heart with false hope, I open my eyes and face the cold, hard truth.
“Let me go,” I say for what feels like the hundredth time.
“I will if you promise to give me a chance to explain.”
“I promise,” I mutter.
The moment he pulls his arms away from me, I shove at his rock-hard chest and put a safe distance between us.
My eyes burn on Mr. Vitale with rage, and I want to slap myself upside the head for being so blind.
He gestures to the lounge chair. “Have a seat.”
My tone is tight as I say, “I prefer to stand.”
My gaze lowers to his mouth, and the realization hits again. It feels like a ten-pound hammer knocks me right off my feet.
Oh. My. God. I kissed Mr. Vitale.
I told him I was falling in love with him.
I shared everything with him.
