Chapter Nineteen
Chantilly
The late morning sun streamed through the bedroom window when I finally woke. Unloading about my past to Valentino had taken a weight off my shoulders. It was true what they said about a problem shared being a problem halved.
I sat and rubbed my eyes even as my near death experience came back to haunt me. My breath shuddered out. It’d been a close call. That I’d accepted my fate didn’t come easily to me in the cold light of day. I’d always been a fighter. I wasn’t a quitter.
I swung my legs out of bed and stalked across the gray carpet and onto the large, blue-white tiles of the bathroom, where I freshened up and relieved myself. My full bladder was probably as much from the seawater I’d swallowed as it had been the champagne I’d drank.
I shivered then as I looked into the mirror. I was a little thin, gaunt almost. I didn’t want to lose any weight; I needed all my energy so that I didn’t lose my will to fight. I clearly needed to look after myself better.
Heading to the closet, I picked out an outfit from the few things left to me by Marco. After dressing into a violet-colored blouse and denim shorts, I brushed my hair and pulled it back into a bun before walking barefooted out of the bedroom to find Valentino.
I was still quietly reeling about my topsy-turvy emotions. That I’d wanted his arms around me after I’d managed to escape from him was crazy town. I was a walking, talking paradox.
I stalked down the hallway to find the kitchen, dining and lounge room empty. I blinked. It was spotless, everything cleaned and sparkling with a lemon scent lingering in the air. Even the floorboards looked polished. His cleaners might have been here while I’d slept, but it was obvious my lover wasn’t. I was sure of it even before I checked the guest rooms.
That each of the carpeted rooms had been vacuumed while the master bedroom I’d been in had been left made it more than apparent the cleaners knew not to disturb me.
My spine stiffened. It wasn’t until I checked the office, then automatically glanced at the monitors, that I knew for sure he wasn’t using his gym or swimming laps in his pool. I looked at the monitor to his garage. His jeep was damn well gone!
He really had left me again!
That he’d done so after what had happened was a spear through my heart. He didn’t give a damn about me. All he cared about was serving his don. That he killed others for a living made my stomach twist. Of course he didn’t give two shits about me. How could he when his soul eroded every time he ended another life. That I’d nearly died meant very little to him in the bigger scheme of things.
I swallowed convulsively. I should be used to men like Valentino. Heaven only knew Sean had tortured and murdered anyone who dared stand up to him. He killed for the most minor offences. That Valentino carried out killings at the command of a don whose heart was likely darker than Sean’s made me nauseous.
What had I done to deserve being entrapped again? At least with Sean my hatred had fed my need to escape. Valentino made me question if I even really wanted to leave. That I might actually have coerced my way out of the house when his cleaners were here, but instead had slept soundly, set my blood to boil.
I stepped closer to his desk and kicked it, enjoying a microbe of satisfaction in the act. Imagining it was Valentino’s ass made me feel even better. I spun around and glowered as I looked up high, aware he’d see me thanks to his cameras recording my every move.
Adrenaline roaring through me, I stomped around his desk to grab his chair and swing it with force at the nearest monitor.
Crunch. Crack.
Oh, the joy!
I smacked the chair against the next monitor, then the next. As glass exploded my mood lifted.
Crack. Smack.
I attacked the monitors as if I was a madwoman. Perhaps I was. But if I died thanks to my insanity, at least I hadn’t completely lost my independence, my defiance. My courage or fight!
I was on a roll, adrenaline continuing to lend me strength as I swung the chair at the very last monitor. Satisfaction coursed through me as the screen shattered into fragments. It was only when the monitors were broken and twisted remnants of their former, pristine selves that I dropped the mangled chair.
I was panting with exertion as my rush faded along with a rage that had broken free after years of being suppressed for fear of reprisal.
Shit.
There wasn’t any doubt in my mind that I’d regret this show of defiance. Valentino would make certain my punishment would be severe. If I’d learned anything from living with a don, it was that any lack of respect would not be tolerated.
I doubted Valentino would care about the thousands of dollars’ worth of damages I’d made, it was that I dared to destroy anything of his in the first place. It’d been sheer luck that he hadn’t yet hurt me for my defiance in using another bedroom.
He’d been too busy fucking me. But sex would only get me so far. This…carnage wouldn’t be tolerated.
I took a step back, my bare feet cracking the fragments of glass. I looked down, only then noticing the blood all over the carpet thanks to my lacerated feet and the cuts on my hands and arms.But what were a few cuts and stings compared to death?
My breath shuddered out, sweat beading my brow. There really was going to be hell to pay when Valentino returned. I almost welcomed the thought. I’d been in limbo for so long now it would be a relief to face the consequences of my actions. But if he thought I’d go down without a fight he had had another thing coming.
I turned away from the mess and returned to the master bedroom. Stepping inside the en suite, I undressed and got under the shower, turning the taps to hot and watching the pink-tinged water flushing down the drain.
I was getting dizzy by the time I sensed Valentino behind me. Gasping, I stepped back, my back hitting the tiled wall.
His stare bored into mine. “What have you done?”
I was too shocked and overwhelmed to answer. That I was running on fumes and deflated of all anger kept me silent even as he stepped into the shower fully clothed and flicked off the water.
I couldn’t resist. I wound my arms around his waist and leaned into him, absorbing a little of his strength.
With something between a growl and a groan, he picked me up, shoved open the glass door, then deposited me onto the bathroom mat. Only when he looked at me with sharp, assessing eyes did I notice the splatters of red on his shirt and jacket.
I blinked, my heart shuddering. “That’s not my blood, is it?”
He shook his head. “It’s not.”
That he didn’t even try to deny it pushed a button inside me, one that rained out tears I’d so far managed to hold back. Rage had been my go to and there was no more of that to go around, instead self-pity overflowed from me as I sobbed in front of him.
“Jesus, Tilly,” he said roughly, even as he drew me back into his arms to comfort me.
Shit.I didn’t want his compassion, did I? It made me even weaker, more dependable on him. That I’d never had any compassion in my life, had never been shown any kindness at all only stimulated my emotional pain that seemed wrenched from the deepest part of my soul.
He stepped back and clasped my shoulders even as I swayed a little. Just how much blood had I lost? He swore again, his eyes flashing before he wrapped a towel around me, then retrieved some tweezers out of one of the vanity drawers and began the tedious task of pulling all the sharp fragments from my feet.
I hissed out a pained breath as the bits of glass tugged back through my skin, before he placed the bloodied fragments onto the basin. It was only when he kneeled and put some kind of ointment on the cuts before he bandaged my feet that I truly comprehended his kindness.
“Why are y-you being s-so nice?” I asked.
He looked up at me. “You need to ask?”
I searched his eyes, but I couldn’t read anything. He was emotionally closed off. I sighed heavily. “I thought you’d punish me.”
“Who said I won’t?”
I released an aggrieved breath. “Why can’t we just have a normal conversation?”
He cocked a brow even as he straightened to his full, intimidating height. “There’s nothing normal about what you did to yourself.”
I lifted my chin. “I didn’t do it to myself, I did it to you.”
“Did it make you feel any better?”
I bit my bottom lip, then conceded, “I don’t know how I feel anymore.”
Plucking a bathrobe off a nearby wall hook, he took off my towel, dressed me in the robe, then bent and picked me up and carried me down the hallway and into the dining room. He plonked me onto a chair at the table. “Let’s forget about feelings for now. You need some sustenance.”
When he pulled out a cutting board, then began slicing and dicing, I grimaced and said, “I can’t eat anything you make, not while you have someone else’s blood on your clothes.”
He cocked a brow. “Fine.”
He took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it free before he stalked off to the laundry. I could barely swallow past my dry throat. His torso was masculine perfection, his muscles hard and lightly bulging, his shoulders broad and his skin etched with swirls of ink.
When he returned I couldn’t help but ask, “Who did you kill?”
He sighed heavily. “Let’s just say you should feel safe now.”
My head reared back, my eyes focused on his. “You killed Sean?” I asked, my voice breathless and my blood turning to ice even as something too close to hope pulsed through my veins.
“I did,” he finally conceded.
I pressed a shaky hand to my suddenly hot brow as he sliced cucumber, tomatoes and lettuce, before he pulled out some sliced ham, then buttered sliced bread. Such a mundane task, yet my emotions were anything but mundane.
I felt lightheaded and was grateful I was sitting. Was I really truly, finally free? That I was numb to Sean’s death said it all. I wasn’t about to waste my breath on grief for someone who didn’t deserve the privilege.
“H-how?” I asked. “He’s surrounded by his men, he has bodyguards even when he sleeps.”
“No one is invincible,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “He was a gutless little prick without any pride. He begged me to spare his life even though he’d had no empathy to do the same to his victims.”
My detachment was short-lived. “They’ll come for you now,” I said in a shaky voice. “And they’ll kill you and anyone close to you.”