by Skye Warren
I could stay here, I think.
At least until Giovanni leaves and Romero appears to stand guard at my door. Then I remember I’m a prisoner. How can I be bribed so easily with rocks and paint? But then again, if I have everything I ever wanted, how can I leave?
I spend the rest of the day painting the plateau where we ate lunch yesterday, remembering how it felt to have the wind on my face and Giovanni at my side.
* * *
On Friday Giovanni appears at the bedside, freshly showered and wearing a sharp custom suit.
“I’m up,” I say sleepily, eyes barely open.
Giovanni has gotten into the habit of walking me to the studio before he begins working for the day. I don’t love getting up early, but I do love the ritual.
Gio gives me an almost tender look. “Sleep.”
I also prefer to be escorted by Giovanni rather than a guard. It’s a little dampening to the creative spirit to be reminded that I’m not free. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I still don’t know how to break away from him.
Even if I decide to stay, I rationalize, I would go meet my sister. She’ll worry about me if I’m not there. And it would only endanger whoever comes to get me, whether Kip or Blue or someone else from his security company, if they have to break into the mansion itself.
I scrub at my eyes. “No, Romero will be here soon for the morning walk.”
Lupo snores softly at the foot of the bed, his small body curled into a nest. He doesn’t appreciate early mornings any more than I do, but we have to operate around Romero’s availability for walks.
A light clink sounds as Giovanni sets the blue leash on the nightstand.
Awareness comes to me suddenly. I sit up, using the sheet to cover my naked body. “What’s this?”
A muscle works in his jaw. “For you. Romero can still walk the dog if you prefer, but you can too.”
My eyes widen. “Without a guard?”
“When you’re outside, you need an escort. It’s a security issue. Even with the fences and the patrols, I can’t be certain you’ll be safe.” He pauses. “In the house, though, you can go as you please.”
My heart stops beating for a full minute. This is it. He trusts me. He really trusts me, and I’m planning to betray him. I close my eyes. I can’t think about it like that. I only want to see my sister, make sure she’s safe and show her I’m safe too.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
But he’s already turned away, heading for the door.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I’m anxious and restless throughout Friday night. Nightmares wake me up twice, once with a nameless, faceless person pinning me to the wall. The second one holds me in a cage, laughing demonically as I pull at the spindle bars.
A drowsy Giovanni wakes me up with soothing noises. “You’re dreaming, bella.”
My breathing comes in harsh pants. “Oh God.”
“Shhh.” He runs his large hand through my hair, brushing the strands between his forefinger and thumb. He cradles my head and runs kisses over my forehead, light and caressing, until I drift slowly back to sleep. I don’t remember any nightmares after that, only vivid flashes of color and emotion that leave me unsettled come morning.
I wake up alone in bed with Lupo anxious to go out. It’s almost noon and I’m still groggy from being up so much during the night. Showering quickly, I take Lupo out to the rose gardens just outside the west exit. A guard nods at me from beside the door, familiar with my new routine.
When I reach the studio with Lupo by my side, Romero is waiting for me.
“Put the dog inside,” he says, brusque and cold. “And come with me.”
A shiver runs over my skin. This is how my father would summon me, one of his men plucking me from whatever I was doing with no preamble, harsh expressions and impersonal commands. “Sure. Okay.”
There’s a dog bed and bowl of water set up in the studio so that Lupo can sit with me while I work. I lead him inside and shut the door on his worried eyes.
“The office,” Romero says.
My heart hitches. This is exactly like before. And then I’d get to the office and the door would close…but no. This is different. Giovanni is different. A little voice inside my head asks, Is he really that different from your father? He’s been gentle enough with me, rough only in the ways I like best, but he’s still a ruthless criminal. He has to be.
Dread grows with every step across the house until we reach the center.
I knock on the office door, my stomach in knots. He doesn’t know how this is affecting you. He has no way of knowing. And I have to keep it that way, which means slowing my breathing back to normal.
“Come in.”
Pushing inside, I’m dismayed to find him behind the desk. Anyone would feel like a naughty child at this point, being called in for some misdeed. After the number of times it happened to me, after the way it happened, my throat squeezes so tight I can barely force out a sound.
My hands clench and unclench behind my back. “You wanted to talk to me.”
His gaze roams my body, impersonal and calculating. I know he takes in my too-fast breathing, the sheen of panic heating my face. Whereas last night he’d been full of calming softness, today he looks hard.
He tosses something on the shiny desk surface. “I found this.”
It takes me a second to recall the folded blue slip of paper, the note from Honor. I shoved it between the pages of my sketch notebook, uncertain whether I’d need to keep it or not.
“You looked through my things,” I say, halting.
He laughs, humorless. “Yes, that’s me. The big bad wolf you need to get away from.”
I swallow hard. “She was just trying to help.”
“What I want to know is how she got this note to you?”
I remain stubbornly silent—but shit. Shit. He’ll eventually track down who did this, and Juliette will be in trouble. Would he hurt her? I want to believe he wouldn’t hurt a woman. Isn’t that what Maria assured me?
I wouldn’t hurt a fucking fly. If he wants to commit suicide, that’s his business.
No, he’s a dangerous man. I can’t underestimate him. I just don’t know how I’m going to protect Juliette.
“For that matter,” he continues, voice flat, “how did she find out where you were? Have you been in contact other than this?”
Despite the butterflies in my stomach, I force myself to approach him, to circle the desk so I can appeal to the man I love—the one who held me during my nightmares last night. Not the one who makes homicidal threats over business negotiations.
“Please, Gio. Let me call her so she knows I’m safe. I’ll tell her not to come.”
A cold glint enters his eyes. “You don’t want me to greet her in the pool house?”
My heart drops. “No. Please. She just wants to make sure I’m okay. I’ll stay with you. I was already going to tell her I wanted to stay here.”
Disbelief and fury war on his face. “How fucking stupid do you think I am?”
“I’m telling the truth!”
“Then tell the truth about where you got this note.”
My lips press together.
“That’s what I thought. Keeping secrets but I’m supposed to trust you.”
“I’m not keeping secrets. I only want to keep my sister safe.” Along with Juliette, for helping me. “I really was going to stay with you, I swear it. I’m being honest with you.”
“Honest?” he asks softly. “While you’re so busy being honest, why don’t you tell me why you freaked out when I had you on your stomach?”
My stomach turns over. Flashes of memory assault me—the plush carpet underneath me, the faint smell of cigars and ink. All that’s missing is hot breath and groping hands. It’s too similar, too much. I stumble backward, almost falling against the shelves.
Giovanni reaches up to steady me, but it feels like an attack.
His touch burns me, and I twist away, knocking over a small si
de table. “No!”
“Tell me,” he says, eyes dark and determined. “Someone hurt you, bella, and I’m not going to rest until you tell me who.”
Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision. I trip over the edge of the rug, skidding on the hardwood floors. Pain shoots up my knees at the harsh impact burn. “You’re hurting me.”
Giovanni lifts me as if I weigh nothing, turning me in the air until we’re back at the desk. We’re on the other side, now facing the stained glass mirror at the back, but it’s still too close. He turns me onto my stomach, facedown, palms pushing at the smooth surface. I’m gasping for breath, begging and pleading and threatening. The wood grain with the knot that looks like a scary face, the one shaped like an acorn. My memories slide down to a dark place. No.
He bends over me from behind, his breath warm against my cheek. “Who are you thinking about?”
“You, you,” I cry out, ragged and breathless. “Let me go.”
His hold on me is merciless. I can’t lever away, can’t move a single muscle. “Who hurt you? Was it someone at the university? That fucker I punched in the alley?”
“No no no.” The words are small, almost a breath.
He presses his body against mine, erection hard and hot and familiar. “The one who married your sister? Someone touched you, bella. Tell me and I’ll let you go. Who was it?”
“My father,” I scream with a hard sob against the cool, unfeeling wood. How many times was I bent over this desk? How many times did I press my lips together not to make a sound?
Cold air washes over my back, and I realize I’m free. Giovanni stands a few feet away from me, looking shell-shocked. “Your father?”
I stand and wrap my hands around my stomach, shaking. “I never wanted you to know.”
“I don’t understand. I thought for sure it was someone after you left here. He was hurting you?”
“Just stop,” I say, my voice dull.
He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out, and I flinch away.
He freezes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t, okay? I couldn’t tell you or anyone. He told me he’d have anyone killed if I told them.”
“Honor?” he asks between clenched teeth.
“I don’t think he hurt her. Only me because I wasn’t his real daughter. He told me I couldn’t tell her or I’d be sent away. And I didn’t want to leave her, even if that meant putting up with him.”
“He…” A hard swallow. “He raped you.”
“No,” I say bitterly. “I was telling the truth when I said I was a virgin. He liked to call me into his office because I’d done something wrong. Maybe I had been sketching instead of doing my history homework. So he’d tell me to bend over the desk for punishment.”
Giovanni’s hands are clenched into fists, his large body trembling with rage. “Why?”
I know what he’s asking. Not why did it happen, but why didn’t I tell him. “What would you have done, Gio? If I told you my father would spank me without my panties on, that he would feel me up while he did it?”
“I would have killed him,” he says, his voice rough with venom.
“I know,” I say, suddenly weary. “I know you would have. I didn’t doubt that. That’s why I could never tell you. You would have killed him, but he had an entire army at his disposal. You would have been killed first—or if not first, definitely after.”
“Who the fuck cares?” he asks roughly. “I was nobody. I was nothing. It didn’t matter what happened to me. You should have told me so I could protect you.”
“And what about me protecting you? I loved you, Gio, with everything I had. That was how I protected you and Honor. Both of you would have fought for me and suffered the consequences. So I didn’t tell.”
Giovanni runs a hand over his face, looking more troubled than I’ve ever seen, more real than he’s been since I returned to the mansion. He stares at the stained glass, unseeing. “So all those nights when you came to meet me, he had put his hands on you. He had terrorized you, and I did nothing.”
I take a step toward him, place a hand on his arm. “This is what I didn’t want. This guilt.”
“Guilt?” he says harshly. “I swore I’d protect you.”
“It wasn’t your fault, just like it wasn’t mine.”
He pulls away from me. “I wish I could kill him again. That fucker. I wish I could take him downstairs.”
The basement, he means. I shiver. “It’s over now. Done.”
His expression clouds, and he looks at me like I’m a stranger. “Done,” he repeats hollowly.
“I’m over it,” I say gently, but we both know that’s a lie. My freak-out in the bedroom proved that, and the knocked-over side table between us confirms it. “We don’t have to talk about it again.”
His eyes meet mine, and I see a grief so profound I can’t breathe. “When they held me in that basement, I was glad. It meant you were free. Every second I spent down there meant they hadn’t found you yet. So no one could put their hands on you if you didn’t want them to.”
Tears trace a hot path down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Gio.”
“And it was for nothing.”
“No. It was everything. You did save me. And Honor too. I love you for that, Gio. I love you for everything.” I reach for him, but he pulls away with a slashing motion.
“You loved that boy. He’s gone now.”
Cautiously I reach for him again. I place a hand on his muscled arm, feeling the tension running through him. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t embrace me either. “I know you’re different,” I tell him. “I love who you are now too.”
We remain that way for a long moment, as if in a black hole, floating without gravity, anchored only by the touch of my hand to him. I can feel his breath, his anguish. His remorse.
His eyes are soulless, empty. “Romero will take you back to the studio.”
My hand falls away. “What do you mean, he’ll take me back? I know the way.”
“He’ll escort you. You aren’t going to be at that pool house tonight. You aren’t going anywhere without a guard.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I only return to the studio long enough to pick up Lupo, who whines in a high pitch and licks my hand.
“Take me to my old room,” I tell Romero, who looks uncertain but ultimately lets me go.
For the next hour I curl up in the old bed with flowered sheets and stare out the window. Gio looked so cold when he sent me away. And all the trust he had built in me is gone. I can’t live this way. Even if he gives my freedom back, I’ll always know he can take it away again.
The only way to get out is to see my sister, except I have no way out. Romero is standing guard outside the door. The window is secure. Will Giovanni hurt her when he meets her in the pool house? He might not hurt her, but he would definitely consider the men with her fair game. Soldiers, like him.
At dinnertime Maria enters the room bearing a tray. “Come and eat,” she says.
“I’m not hungry,” I mumble, pressing my face into the pillow.
I hear the door close and figure she’s left the tray on the table. But I hear her making soft kissing noises to Lupo. When I peek behind me, he’s sniffing close to a piece of meat she’s holding out. He takes it and backs away, chewing and eyeing the plate for another piece.
At least someone learned to trust during my time here.
She approaches the bed and straightens a pillow. I don’t care what she has to say. Giovanni is so great, he would never hurt me. I know now that it’s partially true. He doesn’t try to hurt me, not with his hands. He hurts me anyway, by treating me like a captive. By keeping me from my sister. By forcing me to face truths I prefer to leave buried.
“Clara,” she whispers.
It’s strange that she’s whispering. Strange enough that I turn in bed to face her.
Her expression is worried as she looks me over. “Are you okay?”
I f
rown, a little confused. “What?”
Her brows draw together. “I went into the office to tell Mr. Costas something. I saw what he was doing to you. Romero made me leave, but…”
And she thought he was hurting me, raping me. Bent over the desk. I can imagine how it looked. He wasn’t raping me, but he was violating a boundary I had fortified for so long. I’m not sure if she would help me if she knew he was demanding secrets instead of sex. So I don’t tell her.
“Will you help me leave now?”
She glances toward the door. “Yes. What I was going to tell Mr. Costas… I was contacted this morning by someone whose name is Honor. She says she’s your sister, and she offered me money to help her get you out.”
My mouth opens. Closes. Why would Honor offer a ransom when she’s planning on extracting me? Maybe it’s a distraction. Still, something doesn’t feel right about the timing.
“I wouldn’t have done it,” Maria says sadly. “Wouldn’t have betrayed Mr. Costas for anything. But I can’t leave you here after what I saw. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before.”
I feel bad that she believes the worst of Giovanni. He’s not a saint by any means, but he hasn’t done what she’s thinking. Still, I need to get out of here. Giovanni clearly will never treat me as an equal. And my sister might be in trouble if he meets her in the pool house.
That’s a big if, because now I’m doubting whether that plan ever existed. Why would Juliette lie?
But if Juliette did lie, then something even more sinister is going on. She had Candy’s phone number. It wasn’t a direct link to Honor, but she could have used it to find her. Honor could be at some other meeting spot right now, expecting to find me but trapped instead.
Why would she want me to come to the pool house? Maybe that was just a feint, so I wouldn’t be alarmed that my sister didn’t contact me. She could have assumed I’d never get free of Romero anyway, so it wouldn’t matter.
Then again, she might have hoped I would go to the pool house. What would have been waiting for me there? Who would have been waiting?