"Ok," I reply softly, for the first time willing to place my trust in someone else.
"I'll never let another man put a finger on you, sunshine. They can look, but they can't touch," he speaks gently as he lowers his lips to my forehead. "You're mine and mine alone, and everyone who thinks to dispute that can fucking go to hell."
"Thank you..." I reply, my voice filled with emotion and every bit of love I have for him.
"Don't thank me. Not yet. Not until we're as far away from this place as possible. However," he playfully narrows his eyes at me, "don't think you're getting away for this stunt of yours. Fuck, you almost killed yourself, Gianna."
"I know," I sigh. "But at that moment, all I could think of was getting away. By any means."
"You have me now. Let me slay your monsters," he says in the softest tone, and my heart melts a little.
"I do," my lips tug up in a smile. "I have you now," I say just as I bring my hands to his face, cupping his cheeks and bringing him closer to me.
Closing my eyes, I let my lips hover over his, enjoying his proximity and bathing in his protective aura.
Because that's what he is.
My protector.
The slayer of my demons.
Leaning forward, I brush my lips against his, a small tremor going down my body at the contact.
Soft. They are so soft. From the beginning I've marveled at how soft they are when the rest of him is so hard.
I continue to tease his lips before I lick the seam with my tongue.
He growls low in his throat before his arms close around me, bringing me flush against his chest and deepening the kiss.
He sucks on my tongue, devouring me whole as I feel the desperation underlying this kiss—the intense emotions he stirs in me, and I in turn awaken in him.
Even as the kiss ends, we do not break apart, breathing in and out like one—his air, my air; my essence, his essence.
"Promise me you'll never try to do this again. Please, promise me," he rasps in a broken voice, and it finally dawns on me how much I hurt him.
And how much he cares.
"I promise," I immediately reply.
"Good. Good," he nods, more to himself. "I'll hold you to that."
Scooting over in bed, I let him join me as he tells me what had happened after he'd found me. How he'd alerted my father and Cosima but neither had seemed to care much as long as I survived.
They'd visited once while I'd been sedated, and after they'd ensured they hadn't lost their future investment, they'd promptly left the hospital, instructing Bass to be extra vigilant so I don't attempt to kill myself again.
Truthfully, I hadn't expected any other reaction from their part. But I can't help the way a part of me is hurt by my father's negligence, and the fact that he doesn't care about me aside from my financial value.
It's funny how I've had eighteen years to realize that he's never going to care about me, but every time he snubs me like this, he kills a small part of my soul that kept hoping...
I shake myself from my musings, snuggling deeper into Bass' arms and going back to sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
The days pass, and I'm forced to remain in the hospital under medical supervision for my suicide attempt. My father, of course, is not happy about this.
He visited me exactly once—the day after I woke up. He only had a few words to say to me, all of which included the shame I've brought to the family and how I'd made him look weak in front of Goode because he can't control his own daughter.
Of course he'd also promptly ordered me to get well soon, because the preparations for the engagement party cannot wait.
I'd still been dazed from the drugs in my system, and before I could reply to him, he'd been gone.
He hasn't visited since.
Bass has been the only one by my side at all times, and his attention has been nothing short of astounding.
For someone who is used to suffering in silence, his treatment amazed me.
He's been a constant presence, always making sure I'm ok and asking if I need anything.
But more than that, his tenderness had shocked me.
Looking at him, you would only see his hard side—the violence reflected in his scars, the promise of even more violence at every flex of his muscles. Yet for all his imposing appearance, he's been so gentle with me, taking care of me even when I didn't know I needed it.
Cooped up in the hospital room, we've also managed to get to know each other better, playing games, watching shows together, or just joking around, recounting anecdotes from our lives.
He'd been even more forthcoming than usual, even sharing with me how he got the scar on his face.
Although I could see he was still affected by the incident, he'd told me in detail how a number of people had taken him by surprise, ambushing him and holding him down while one person had cut away at his face, the threat of losing an eye always hanging over his head while he'd been powerless to stop it.
I'd been shocked at his story, especially since I find it hard to believe anyone would be able to hold him down. But when I'd asked how many people had jumped on him, he'd grimly replied six—seven with the one cutting.
I'd desperately wanted to inquire more, but at seeing how upset he was by everything, I'd refrained from it.
"I brought you your favorite milkshake and cheesecake," his voice interrupts me from my thoughts as he comes inside my salon, closing the door behind him.
"Really?" My eyes widen in excitement as I all but jump out of bed.
"Easy," he chuckles when he sees my expression.
Setting up everything on the table, he invites me to take a seat before spreading everything in front of me.
"God," I whisper in awe, "you went all the way to the Cheesecake Factory?"
Since the incident had happened at home, I'd been rushed to the closest hospital in upstate New York. The closest Cheesecake Factory is all the way in the city, so it must have taken him a few hours for a round trip.
"I had some time while you were sleeping," he gives me a sheepish smile, raising his hand and tucking my hair behind my ear. "Besides, I quite like spoiling you."
A blush creeps up my cheeks and I suddenly avert my gaze.
You'd think I would get used by now with flirtation and men making advances towards me, but with Bass everything is different.
Not only does he have a novel effect on my body, but in his presence I feel like a shy schoolgirl—not at all like the modern woman I pretend to be to the outside world.
"And that blush right there tells me I'm doing a good job," he drawls as he brings his hand down my cheek, his thumb hovering over my mouth.
"You got me all my favorite flavors too," I comment, switching the topic as I realize I'm getting increasingly hot from his touch alone.
"Dig in," he prompts me, leaning back and watching me eat.
We make pleasant conversation while I savor the cherry flavored cheesecake.
It's been so long since I last ate something with this much gusto, without my anxiety threatening to upset my stomach, or influencing my appetite.
And I think everything is because of him.
He makes me feel safe.
Smiling at something he says, I'm startled by the sound of the door opening and closing, my father striding in.
Bass immediately gets to his feet, trying to keep a distance away from me so that my father won't get suspicious about the nature of our relationship.
"Leave us, Bailey," he barely even looks at Bass as he orders him.
He grinds his teeth, reluctant to go. I give him a slow nod, knowing that my father won't stay for too long.
"I've spoken with your doctor," my father starts the moment Bass is out of the door. "You'll be able to go back home tomorrow."
"How?" I frown. "When I talked to him he said I needed to be under supervision..."
"I talked him out of that bullshit," he interrupts, waving his hand dismissively. "Bailey will watch
out so you behave yourself. Especially since the engagement is less than three weeks away."
"What..." My eyes widen at his shamelessness. "You're crazy," I mutter, unable to believe he'd be this cruel.
"Maybe. But you're marrying Clark as soon as it can be arranged and that's final, Gianna." He shrugs, looking at me with a bored expression on his face.
"I'm not marrying him. I can't," I shake my head. "I won't."
He stares at me for a second before bursting out loud laughing.
"Yes, you will," he chuckles.
"We can still find someone else. It doesn't have to be him," I attempt to pacify him. Anyone but Clark would do at this point.
"Someone else?" He raises an eyebrow at me.
Striding to the window, he removes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one up and opening the window for the smoke to go outside.
"Someone else," he gives a dry laugh, taking a big drag from the cigarette before turning to me.
Leaning against the windowsill, he looks me up and down in distaste.
"There's no one else, Gianna. Do you really think that anyone will have you after everything you've done?"
"Everything I've done?" I ask, confused.
"Oh, don't play dumb," he rolls his eyes at me, bringing the cigarette back to his lips.
"Everyone in the Tri-State area probably knows how easy it is to get between your legs," he says derisively.
My mouth drops open in shock, both at the fact that he'd know about it or mention it so carelessly.
"Wow," I exclaim, shaking my head. "You're going to throw that in my face? Since when do you care anyway?" I give a bitter laugh. "You've been parading me around for so long, hoping I'd ensnare some rich husband that you turned a blind eye to everything going on in my life."
"Of course I did," he replies, almost exasperated. "I must admit that in the beginning I thought you'd find some rich snob, get yourself knocked up and trap him. But it seems to have backfired." He adds pensively.
All the while I can't erase the shock from my features.
He's known... He's known all along what people were saying about me, but he hadn't interfered because he'd thought to use it to his advantage. I almost want to laugh out loud at this.
"Of course," he nods, "no self-respecting fellow would buy the cow after the entire village milked it."
"What?" The words are out of my mouth before I can help myself.
I simply can't believe what he's saying, or the manner in which he's saying it—as if he couldn't care less about it, about me, except that it had hurt his business interests.
Hell, I've always known my father was a mercenary bastard. But I've never realized he could be this cruel.
"Drop the scandalized look, Gianna." He tells me, flinging his cigarette out the window. "I should have realized you're cut from the same cloth as your mother," he shakes his head in disgust as he comes closer to me. "Good for a fuck, but not much else," he all but spits in my face as he backs me towards the wall.
I back away, not wanting him anywhere in my personal space—not after he just said.
I've never held out hope for a good relationship with my father. But this one conversation will serve as the moment I truly cut my ties with him.
"Get out," I whisper, my entire body shaking with anger. "Get out," I say louder, noticing the surprised look that crosses his face.
For a second I think he will, but before I can even blink, he has me against the wall, his fingers around my neck.
"Don't you ever dare to do something like this again and jeopardize my deal with Clark. You will marry him, or else I'll be forced to do something more drastic," a cruel smile tugs at his lips, "like say... have your brother pay for your mistakes."
My entire body is quaking, and as I look into his eyes, I know he means it. He's never cared about Michele anyway, just like he's never cared about me, either. And all because he loathed our mother and the fact that he was forced to marry her.
"You'll turn those wiles of yours on Clark and make him happy like the little whore you are, and I'll keep your brother out of this."
Terrified by this side of him, I simply nod.
"Words, Gianna, words."
"Yes. I'll marry him," I whisper.
"Good," he gives me a satisfied smirk as he releases me. "I'm glad we understand each other."
And with that he's gone.
My fingers go around my neck as I massage it, feeling the bruising way with which he'd dug his fingers in my flesh.
"Sunshine?" Bass' worried voice registers late, and I raise my head to see him back in the room.
"What did he do?" He demands, coming close to me and taking me in his arms.
I shake my head at him, assuring him I'm fine.
I give him a quick rundown of the conversation and the fact that he'd threatened me with Michele's safety.
"I can't leave him here, Bass. We need to find a way to take him with us."
"I agree. I like your brother, and he shouldn't have to be subjected to Benedicto's scorn just because. He's already dealt with enough as it is." He nods grimly. "It will be harder, but I'll make it happen. I promise you."
He takes me into his arms, bringing me to his chest as he lays a kiss on my forehead.
True to his word, my father convinces the doctor to discharge me the next day. And as I get back to the house, I can't help the doubts that start clouding my mind.
Bass assures me he'll be able to plan our escape in time, but can he really?
He's just an ex-army dude against a billionaire and a mafia boss. Can he really ensure everything will go smoothly?
It's even worse knowing that my brother's wellbeing is at stake too. Whereas Raf has always been in safe hands, coddled by both Cosima and my father, Michele has been left to fend for himself his entire life.
If it weren't for me, I don't know what would have happened to him, since Cosima can't stand the sight of him.
He would have probably ended up dead. Like my mother.
Because of that, I'm a little reluctant to hope about escaping my fate. If anything, I want to take advantage of the time I have left and make memories for the future.
If all should fail, at least I'll have something to hold on to.
And when night time comes, it's time to put my plan in motion.
I take a quick shower, changing the bandages on my wrists to the best of my ability and donning on a sheer nightgown. Stepping in front of the mirror, I take a moment to inspect my appearance.
I hope he'll like it.
The gown leaves little to the imagination, my naked breasts visible as well as the outline of my panties.
I may not be ready to go all the way with Bass—likely won't ever be—but I want to experience at least something.
I want him.
Undoing my hair and letting it fall down my back, I give it a quick brush before I'm ready to go to him.
Fucking hell but my nerves are killing me. I'd made sure to take a pill beforehand so I don't have an attack while we're together, but even so, I feel a tingling low in my belly, my entire being trembling from a mix of fear and anticipation.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and I go knock on his door.
Just like before, he opens the door dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, his chest muscles flexing with every move and making my mouth water.
I've never openly admired the male form before. But seeing Bass' sculpted chest and arms, I can't help the sigh that escapes me as my eyes greedily rove all over his delectable planes.
I want to run my tongue all over his flesh.
I don't know where that thought comes from, but as I raise my eyes to his it's to see a dangerous glint in them, as if he knows exactly what's on my mind.
I don't even get to speak as he pulls me inside, his own eyes looking appreciatively over my body in a way that makes me blush to the roots of my hair.
"Damn, sunshine," he whistles as he peruses my curves.
"You like it," I twirl for him, trying to push down my sudden shyness. "I put it on for you," I wink at him.
He's watching me with glazed eyes, slowly licking his lips as he zeroes in on my breasts.
"Did you?" He intones on a husky voice.
Without another word, he strides to the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning back on his elbows.
"What are you doing?" I ask, almost breathless.
I am way out of my element here, and he's just sitting on the bed, watching. Like a predator leading his prey on a merry chase.
"Strip." He commands, his voice booming in the room and causing my skin to break out in goosebumps.
"What..."
"Strip, sunshine. You said you put it on for me," he smiles. "Now take it off for me."
That smirk of his is back in place as he watches me closely, almost daring me to disobey him.
Over the last few weeks I'd gotten so used to his gentler side that I almost forgot about this other side of him. The harsh, demanding one. The arrogant, drop your panties at my command one that actually makes me want to drop my panties.
It might have been hard for me to come to terms with my attraction to him, but from the first he'd been a force to be reckoned with, wreaking havoc over my senses and destroying everything I thought I knew about myself.
Moving slowly in front of him, I undulate my body in a sinuous manner, watching his pupils as they expand with desire.
"Strip," he reiterates his command, staring at me like a starved man being served a five-course meal.
Crisscrossing my hands, I bring them to the tiny straps of the gown, teasing him as I drop one inch at a time.
He can't take his eyes off me as he follows every small move I make.
But I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me naked just yet. Not when I feel a power unlike any other as I control what he can see and what he cannot see. And as his hungry gaze seems to eat up every bit of flesh I unveil, I become bolder and bolder.
Taking a few steps back, I situate myself in the center of the room, my straps already off my shoulder but my gown is still firmly in place and covering my breasts.
The anticipation must be killing him, especially as he brings his hand to the front of his trousers, adjusting his obvious erection but never once taking his eyes off me.
Frivolous: A DARK MAFIA AGE-GAP ROMANCE Page 20