Lindsay shakes her head and gives a bark of laughter. “Five hundred dollars was more than I made in a week at that shitty job—even with tips!”
“What did you do?”
She doesn’t reply right away, drinking the last remnants from the bottle instead. She stares down at it for a second, but then looks up and meets his eyes straight on.
“I earned five hundred dollars.”
“It was disgusting.” Lindsay shudders. Unfortunately, she remembers every detail of that nauseating experience. “I made him wear a condom though he didn’t want to. I was so young and dumb. I told myself maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, you know? I’d been doing it with boyfriends. I was sexually precocious, in fact.”
“Did he take you somewhere?” Giovanni’s voice is steady and she sees compassion on his face, but there’s something else too. Anger, but she can tell it’s not directed at her.
“We went to his car. It was parked on the side of the building in that small lot. It was dark and private. I thought he might want to go to a hotel, but I guess he used up all his money.”
“Goddammit, Lindsay.” He’s shaking his head. “Anything could have happened to you. Do you know that? He could have hurt you or worse.”
“I know.” She runs her thumb over the empty bottle in her hand. “But he didn’t.” Her thumb presses down and her voice hardens. “Except for turning me into a whore.”
“That’s crazy. You’re not a whore.”
“I called Natalie afterward, hysterical.” She smiles without humor. “You probably don’t know me well enough yet, but trust me, I don’t get hysterical.”
“How old were you when this happened?”
“Twenty.”
He shifts on the bed so he’s closer. “Listen to me. That fucking scumbag preyed on you. He saw your moment of weakness and that’s when he took advantage.”
She stares at him, thinking she’s never heard him swear so much. She picks up the second unopened bottle of vodka. “Well, that fucking scumbag paid five hundred bucks to take advantage of me.” She gives a laugh and it sounds crazed. “In fact, Werner was right about how much money I could make giving blow jobs in the alley.”
“We all make mistakes, especially when we’re young. You can’t let them define you or ruin your life.” There’s an odd note in his voice, and it catches her attention.
“It sounds like you speak from experience.”
“I do.”
Their eyes stay on each other and Lindsay sees something in his. It’s only a momentary flicker, but the depth of it astonishes her. He’s been hurt. Badly. She quickly realizes all those tales of Giovanni’s coldness are false.
If anything, she’s guessing he feels too much.
“What happened when you told Natalie?” he asks.
She chokes up. Even after all these years, what her sister did for her still moves her to tears. “She bought me a plane ticket so I could fly to Seattle the very next day.” She smiles at the memory. “It must have cost a fortune. Natalie told me if I wasn’t on that plane she was coming out to get me herself.”
He nods with approval.
“She was seven months pregnant with Chloe at the time, but believe me, she would have figured out a way.”
He grins a little. “I see why my brother fell so hard for her.”
Lindsay leans her head back against the wall and closes her eyes. The rooms spins. She’s not drunk, but definitely getting there. “The irony is I never even spent the money—the five hundred bucks. I couldn’t touch it. I put it on the kitchen table for my mom before I left.”
Giovanni remains silent.
She opens her eyes and looks at him. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told this story to.”
“What do you mean?”
“Natalie knows, and now you. No one else.”
There’s surprise on his face. “What about your two marriages? Your husbands never knew?”
“No, it’s like I said—I’ve always lived with secrets.” She fingers the bottle in her hand. “So many secrets . . . always.”
She thinks back to her marriages. She probably should have told Josh, her first husband. Despite all her trust issues, she realized years later that he did love her, but by then, it was too late. She met him right after it happened and she worried he’d think less of her, that he wouldn’t understand.
“Why did you tell me?”
“Because maybe I’m tired of secrets.” She closes her eyes again for a moment and lets the room spin, her heart spinning with it. A roulette wheel. “Or maybe I want you to know me.”
The air around them changes at her words. She senses it. The way it’s stirred up, the way it brushes her skin light as a feather. When she opens her eyes, Giovanni is gazing at her like he recognizes her, like he does know her, and it takes her breath away.
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight,” she whispers, moving closer to him on the bed. “Stay with me.” She reaches out and takes his hand.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his expression changes to that tense one, the one she’s come to know so well.
Uh-oh.
“I can’t, Lindsay,” he tells her quietly. “Not tonight.”
“I see.” Though she doesn’t see at all. Since when doesn’t he want her? A prickle of unease rises within her. She can’t believe he’s turning her down. Men never turn her down. A part of her is tempted to seduce him, to bend him to her will, because she could.
But then she stops herself.
I don’t want him like that.
Her whole life it’s been this way. The same thing. Men want her. They want this particular set of bones and skin, but that’s all it is.
I want him to accept who I am beneath the mask.
But then another thought comes to her, and her unease grows worse. Much worse. A black pit ready to swallow her. Maybe he isn’t happy to discover he’s married a whore. She only did it once, but some people would say once is all it takes. Despite his words of sympathy, he is a man, and any man would see her differently after hearing she had sex for money.
How could I have been so stupid?
The air changes around her again. Only this time, it’s fear settling on her skin, as sticky and unwanted as spider webs.
She takes a shaky breath, trying to brush them off.
He pulls his hand away and rises from the bed. “I should let you get some sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Lindsay doesn’t sleep. She just lies there in the dark for the next hour, kicking the covers around, her mind racing. It’s all come back again, dragging her down into those dirty waters. How many times has she wished she could go back in time and change that night? In her darker moments, she wishes she could find that old guy who paid her, who reduced her to nothing but a fistful of cash, and shove that five hundred dollars down his throat until he choked on it.
She thought she’d put this behind her, but it turns out it’s only been waiting in the shadows, so patient, like that old guy waited for her.
She thinks about Giovanni in the next room. If any man could handle the truth, she could have sworn it was him. Her dad was an expert at reading people. It’s one of the reasons he was such a great card player because he could always tell when someone was bluffing. It’s a talent she inherited herself.
How could I have been so wrong?
Finally, she can’t stand it any longer. She shoves the bedding out of her way and gets up.
I need answers. Now.
She strides barefoot to the door and jerks it open. It’s quiet in the living room and she figures he’s asleep.
The lights are off, but it’s not completely dark. He’s left the curtains open on the huge floor-to-ceiling window, and the reflection from the fountain shines through.
It’s spectacular, and she pauses.
When her eyes find Giovanni, she’s surprised to discover he’s not asleep after all. She can see him well enough, lying awake in bed with one arm tucked
under his head. He’s shirtless, and the shadows accentuate the muscle beneath his skin. So beautifully made. Even in her anger, there’s a stirring of desire for him.
He was gazing at the fountain outside, but his head turns when he notices her walking toward him. He remains silent, his face unreadable.
Lindsay’s heart pounds.
She’s not used to taking the weaker position. “I know why you didn’t stay with me tonight, but I just want to confirm it’s who you really are.” Her voice sounds hard, breaking the silence.
“Huh?” He’s still lying with his hand tucked behind his head. He wasn’t asleep but appears to have been deep in thought.
Her hands go to her hips. She was so crazed and distracted earlier she never even changed, is still wearing the black dress she was married in. “You’re full of shit. All your words about not letting it ‘define me.’ All lies, apparently.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about you. Or is it an accident that after telling you what I did, you no longer want to sleep with me?”
“What?” Giovanni suddenly comes to life, sitting up on his elbows in bed. “Lindsay, you’ve got it all wrong.”
“Don’t act like you don’t fucking know what I’m saying.” She grits her teeth, her muscles tensing with fury. “Because you do.”
“No.” He sits up all the way now. He’s very awake, and it occurs to her that he hasn’t slept all night either. “That has nothing to do with it. I’m glad you told me what happened.”
For a long moment, she doesn’t reply, just stands there trying to catch her breath. Her throat’s so tight she can barely breathe. Tears burn her eyes. After years of holding in her anger, telling herself it doesn’t matter because she’s stronger than that—I am fucking stronger than that—the dam has burst and she’s filled with rage, the kind that makes you want to scream, to attack someone. Rage at that motherfucker who did this to her, who changed her from a normal woman into a whore in less than thirty minutes.
Giovanni’s eyes are intent on her, assessing. The eyes of someone who knows how to deal with trauma. “Lindsay, listen to me. I didn’t leave you alone tonight because of what you told me.”
“I’m marked.” Her voice shakes as she starts to pace around the room. “That motherfucker marked me!”
He shakes his head. “That’s not true. You were in a desperate situation, and that pervert took advantage of you.”
“You don’t know. It changed me. Turned me into something I’m not!”
“Come here, Lindsay.” His voice is low and firm.
She shakes her head and grinds her palms into her eyes to stop the flow of tears. There’s movement on the bed, but she puts her hand out. “No, get back! Stay away from me!”
Her whole body shakes, and she wants to hit something, punch someone, anything. Do some kind of damage, because maybe it’ll release the damage inside her. Instead, a sob bursts free and then another, until finally she can’t stop them all and she’s sobbing without end.
This time, when Giovanni moves off the bed and Lindsay puts her hand out to stop him, it doesn’t work. He strides over and drags her close, even as she’s pushing him away. Her cries turn jagged with hysteria, hurting her, and yet he holds her tight.
The pain is terrible and goes on for a long time until her stomach aches and her throat turns raw. A wild tempest in a dark sea, but he never lets go of her. Never.
“It’s all right,” he murmurs, each wave crashing, his strong arms anchoring her.
At first, she only hugs herself, but somewhere in the storm, she hugs him fiercely, letting him hold her steady above the churning waters.
“It’s going to be okay,” he tells her repeatedly, and he sounds so certain.
“But how do you know?” she finally asks, her voice hoarse from crying. “How do you know it’ll stop hurting? That it hasn’t ruined me?”
“I just do. You’re tough, Lindsay. A survivor.”
Tears run down her face again. “Do you want to know why I told you?” she asks. “The real reason.”
“Why?”
She pulls back to look at him. “It’s because I thought you could handle the truth. I thought you could handle me.”
He grows still. His eyes stay on hers, absorbing every word.
“I told you my worst secret,” she goes on. “The worst I’ve got. Do you understand?”
“I understand.” His hand comes up to stroke her hair. “And you weren’t wrong.”
“I wasn’t?”
His eyes are still on hers. “I can handle your worst. Your worst and more. Don’t ever doubt that.”
She can’t speak and so she cries, tears streaming down her cheeks. His mouth moves close and then he’s kissing her, the taste of salt on both their lips.
Relief pours through her as her fingers grip his neck and then his soft curls. She believes him. The storm pulls back, though the waters are still dark and chaotic below.
“Why did you turn me down tonight?” she asks. “Why?”
“It’s not what you think.”
She takes a deep breath. A wave of exhaustion hits her, and she leans against him. “Tonight of all nights.”
“Come on.” His arm is still around her, and he pulls her along with him over to the sofa bed. “You’re obviously wiped.”
They lie down together with Giovanni on his back and Lindsay beside him, her head on his shoulder. The fountain outside sparkles with a cascade of light. She turns her body a little and lifts her head to face him. “Tell me the reason. If it’s not because you don’t want me.” She nearly chokes on the words. “If you don’t find me beautiful anymore.”
The hand stroking her back stops and grips her tight. “I want you,” he says heatedly. “Everything about you is beautiful to me.”
“Then why?”
“I don’t know how to say this.” He licks his lips. “I didn’t want to take advantage of you again.”
She stares at him with confusion.
“I feel guilty about what happened in Berlin. What I did was wrong.”
“Well, you should feel guilty. You never should have left me there alone.”
He looks pained. “I know, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I took advantage of you that night. I wanted you so badly, and you were in an emotionally vulnerable state.” He touches her face. “I couldn’t stop myself, but I can tonight.”
“Are you kidding?” And she can see by his expression he’s not. “You didn’t take advantage of me.”
“You’d just been robbed. All your savings stolen. There’s no way you were making clear decisions.”
She shakes her head. This wasn’t at all what she expected. “That’s not true. I mean, it’s true I was upset, but I knew what I was doing.”
He merely looks at her, and she can tell his mind is made up.
“I know I said some things to you that night.” She thinks back to how she told him she was in love with him. Maybe I was out of my mind. The problem is she still has feelings for him—probably not love, but something. “I guess I was swept away,” she admits.
“So was I, but I should have been stronger.”
She trails her fingers over his muscular shoulder then up to stroke his jaw. Giovanni was clean-shaven earlier for the wedding but is scratchy with stubble now. She can’t decide if she’s touched or infuriated by his attitude. “You’re a complicated man,” she finally says.
A smile tugs on his mouth. “You’re complicated too.”
They gaze at each other, the fountain glows through the window, creating both light and shadow.
“This has to be the weirdest wedding night ever, and it’s your first. You must be disappointed.” She tries to say it lightly, like a joke, but she can’t quite pull it off.
“I’m not disappointed. I know this is just an arrangement, but I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“You haven’t?”
“No.” He slips his hand be
neath her hair, his eyes soulful. “You disarm me in so many ways.”
Lindsay doesn’t know what to say to this. She can barely breathe. There’s an energy pulsing through her, unlike anything she’s ever experienced. Giovanni strokes her neck, and her eyes fall shut, his touch stirring places deep within. “What are you doing to me?” she whispers.
In reply, his hand slides down her arm, his fingers leaving a trail on her skin. When she opens her eyes, he’s still gazing at her.
He pulls her in close. Their mouths meet, tangling with each other. Tongue kisses that warm her inside, warm her all over. She reaches out to hold him steady for her. He tastes like all the possibilities in the world are hers. Like doors and windows flung wide open.
The kiss grows hotter and she’s all in, but then she senses it. Hesitation from Giovanni.
“Please don’t say no,” she pleads.
He draws back, and it’s obvious he’s struggling with it.
Lindsay shifts position, sits up a little more so she can address him fully. “That night in Berlin, a lot happened. It’s true I was upset, but we both know you were the one in trouble.” He blinks at her description. “I wanted you, but you needed me. And I was glad to be there for you.”
He doesn’t reply, only listens intently.
“But tonight is different.” She tries to catch her breath as tears fill her eyes. “Because tonight it’s me—I’m the one who’s in trouble. You may want me, but I need you.”
“Baby,” he whispers, putting his hand up to her cheek. His expression softens with understanding.
She tries to smile even though she’s crying again.
“Come here.” This time there’s no hesitation as he pulls her to him, brings her close again. He feels so familiar, so right, she has the surreal sense she’s been waiting for him her whole life.
He rolls her onto her back, gazing down, and her sense of familiarity only deepens.
She reaches up to touch his face, lightly trails her fingers over his features. She knows she’s emotionally raw, that all this confessing has rubbed her tough outer skin away.
Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) Page 19