For Angelo(58)

“That grin of yours is scary, tesoro.”

She looked up to see Angelo gazing at her curiously, his book momentarily placed face down on the table next to the couch.

“Just thinking of, umm, things.” Another thing she had discovered was that being vague gave her the best chances of not blurting every little thing to him.

“Ah.” Angelo’s expression became grim, thinking that Lane was getting ready to tell him she was going to leave the next day. After all, her friend would return to her dorm and she would have her apartment back.

“Angelo?” Lane pushed herself up, sensing the sudden change in his mood, and she asked, “What’s wrong?”

His eyes bored through hers. “What do you think?”

Oh no. Her heart slammed hard against her chest, and her stomach became queasy with fear. They were going to talk about it now then. She had hoped that he would just let things lie, but she realized that she was being silly.

Angelo was a planner, not a pantster.

Of course he’d want to talk about things, even when they were hurtful.

She took a deep breath, telling herself she was going to be an adult about this.

Fuck. He saw the look on her face, and his chest clenched. He heard himself say, “You should stay here longer.”

She snapped her mouth shut, deciding that the less said, the better. If he wanted her to stay longer, who she was to argue?

“You’re not going to ask why?”

She shook her head.

And it became clear to him. “You didn’t want to leave?”

Not looking at him, she mumbled, “Do you want me to?”

Ah.

He could hurt her now, he thought. He could afford to keep his pride, to remain behind his walls, and not let her know that he had been terrified she would want to leave.

He could do that, but he didn’t.

“No.” He held her gaze with his. “Never.”

Because he might be a sadist…but he was only interested in pain that gave her pleasure. Pain that would make her cry did not interest him, repelled him even.

Angelo’s words left her dazed, and she didn’t even realize she was crying until he bent close and wiped her tears away.

Oh.

She watched him bring his finger to her lips, and he murmured, “I love the taste of your tears.”

Lane cried and laughed, and when he placed her on his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck and cried on his chest.

“Poor baby.”

She laughed and cried harder because Angelo didn’t sound convincing at all. Instead, he sounded like he was relishing her tears, and he probably did.

“I should make you cry again tomorrow.”

“Sadist.” But her arms tightened around his neck as she spoke.

“Exactly.” He smiled against her hair. “That is what I’ll always be, just as…” His mouth moved to her ear. “Who you are now is who you will always be.”

Oooh.

She looked up. “A masochist?”

He shook his head, confusing her, and cupping her chin, he brought her mouth to his, saying, “You disappoint me. Surely you know by now—” He kissed her hard. “What you’ll always be is mine.”

Her toes curled hard.

“My masochist. My Lane.”

It was the most unbearably sweet thing he had said, and she couldn’t help it. She just had to say it.

“Angelo, I lo—”

His hand cupped over her mouth. “No.” She tried speaking against his palm, and he pressed just the slightest bit harder so she would know that he was against it. “I mean it.” She didn’t try to say anything, but he heard her anyway.

The pain that flickered in her eyes told him everything he didn’t want to know.

Slowly, he lowered his hand.

But this time, she didn’t even try to speak.

He drew his breath unevenly. “How about a bargain?”

She looked at him warily. “Like you’re allowing me to love you by 40%? That kind of bargain?”

He stared at her blankly. “How did you even come up with that kind of thought?”

She colored.

“Never mind, and no, that’s not what I meant.”

A part of him believed he was crazy for what he was about to suggest while another part of him believed it was the best idea he had ever come up.

But then he saw the way Lane’s eyes were gradually darkening, and he remembered that day when she had fainted.

He remembered seeing her looking at him like she deserved to be thrown away.

It was the same way she was looking at him now.

“Would you,” he said roughly, “be my girlfriend?” He might never be able to give her the words, but he could give her the next best thing, the only thing he could offer.

Lane was staring wide-eyed at him, and his tension increased. When he saw her shove her hands in her pockets, he said tautly, “Lane?”