Chapter 14 Interrupted
Amelia
I didn't answer immediately. Part of me wanted to tell him no, it wasn't okay. That he couldn't kiss me when drunk, stand me up, and then come back expecting normal conversation.
But another part—the part that remembered his voice in the alley, the way he'd pulled me to safety, the gentleness underneath the alcohol—that part was curious.
"Okay," I said.
I heard him move to one of the chairs. The leather creaked as he sat.
"Would you sit?" he asked. "Please?"
I found the other chair by memory, counting steps, and sat down carefully.
"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked.
"I'm supposed to serve you."
"Maybe I want to serve you for once."
I shook my head. "I'm fine."
More silence. He really wasn't good at this.
"How long have you worked here?" he finally asked.
"Less than a week."
"And before that?"
"Does it matter?" I asked.
He made a sound and said, "I'm trying to have a conversation."
"Why?" I asked again, guarded.
"Because—" He stopped. I heard him run his hand through his hair—a gesture I could only know from the sound. "Because I want to know you."
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know you're braver than you realise," he said quietly. "I know you survived something terrible when I found you in that alley. I know you ended up here, in this place, which means you're probably desperate and alone and—"
"And you feel guilty," I finished. "You saved me once and then abandoned me, and now I'm here. And you think that's your fault."
Silence.
"It's not," I continued. "You don't owe me anything. You pulled me out of a gang war. That's more than most people would have done. What happened after—that's my responsibility, not yours."
"That doesn't make me feel better about it."
"Then maybe you should stop coming here," I said. "Stop requesting me. Stop trying to ease your conscience by talking to the blind girl you rescued."
"That's not why I'm here."
"Then why are you here?"
He didn't answer immediately. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. Rougher.
"Because I can't stop thinking about you."
My breath caught.
"Since that night," he continued, "since I pulled you out of that chaos and realised you couldn't see, couldn't protect yourself—I haven't been able to forget you. And then you were here, and I was drunk and stupid, and I kissed you and you slapped me and—" He laughed, but there was no humour in it. "And you were so damn brave. Standing up to me even though you had every reason to be terrified. And I knew I should stay away, knew getting involved was the worst possible decision, but I can't. I can't stay away."
I sat very still, processing his words.
He was engaged. To Victoria Castellano. The girls had said so.
He was a mafia heir with obligations and family expectations.
And he was here, in this room, telling me he couldn't stay away.
"You're engaged," I said quietly.
A pause. "How did you—"
"The girls talk. Everyone knows who you are."
"It's not what you think."
"It doesn't matter what I think. You're still engaged. And I'm still..." I gestured vaguely. "This."
He softened his voice and said, "You're not just 'this'. You're—"
A sharp knock on the door interrupted him.
The door opened without waiting for permission. Heavy footsteps.
"Jeremy." A man's voice. Older. Authority in every syllable. "We need to leave. Now."
"Uncle Antonio, I'm in the middle of—"
"I don't care. Volkov's crew hit one of our warehouses. Your father wants all hands on deck. Let's go."
I heard Jeremy stand. Heard the frustration in the movement.
"I'm sorry," he said to me. "I have to—"
"Go," I said simply.
More footsteps. The uncle—Antonio—moving into the room.
"This is what you're wasting time on?" Antonio's voice dripped with disdain. "A blind whore?"
"Watch your mouth," Jeremy snapped.
"We don't have time for this. Move."
I heard Jeremy hesitate. I sensed his focus on me.
Then he was gone. The door closed behind both of them.
I sat alone in room three, my hands clenched in my lap.
He couldn't stay away, he'd said.
But he'd left anyway.
Because that was his world. Violence and obligations and family business that would always come first.
I stood slowly, smoothing down my dress, and made my way to the door.
The hallway was busy tonight—voices, laughter, and the sound of drinks being served in other private rooms.
Jade's voice cut through the noise as I emerged.
"Back already? Did he take one sober look at you and run away?"
Laughter from the other girls.
"That's twice now; he's cut his time short with you," another voice added. "Maybe you're bad luck."
"Bad luck, Amelia," Jade said with mock sympathy. "Can't keep a customer in the room for more than an hour."
More laughter from the girls around her.
I gripped my cane and walked past them, head high, refusing to react.
Let them laugh. Let them mock.
They didn't know what he'd said. Didn't know that he'd apologised, that he'd tried to talk to me, that he'd said he couldn't stop thinking about me.
They didn't know anything.
But as I climbed the stairs to my room, Jade's words echoed in my mind.
Bad luck, Amelia.
Maybe she was right.
Because falling for a mafia heir who was engaged to someone else and couldn't stay in a room with me for more than thirty minutes?
That sounded like pretty bad luck to me.
JEREMY
"You were supposed to be proving yourself," Antonio said as we climbed into the car. "Not playing with your food."
I didn't respond. I just stared out the window while the driver pulled away from Crimson.
"A blind girl working at Marco's," Antonio continued. "Really, Jeremy? That's what you're interested in?"
"I wasn't—"
"Don't lie to me. I saw the way you looked at her. The way you hesitated." He leaned back, shaking his head. "You're weak, Just like I told your father."
"I'm not weak."
"Then prove it. Tonight. When we deal with the Volkov situation, I want to see the real Santoro heir. Not the soft boy who wastes time with broken things."
She wasn't broken.
She was strong. Stronger than Antonio would ever understand.
But I couldn't say that. Couldn't defend her without making things worse.
So I said nothing.
We drove toward the warehouse, toward violence and blood and all the things I'd been born into.
I was moving away from the one person who had made me feel something real in years.
'I can't stay away,' I'd told her.
But apparently, I could.
Because duty always came first.
Family always came first.
And she would always be second.
AMELIA
I lay in bed that night, unable to sleep.
I can't stop thinking about you.
His words played on repeat in my mind.
He was engaged. He was dangerous. He was part of a world that ate people like me alive.
And I couldn't stop thinking about him either.
That made me an idiot.
I was the unlucky girl who had fallen in love with the wrong person.
Again.