Chapter 5 #2
“Perhaps I should rephrase.” Gio glances at Delilah, who’s asleep in her chair, and then returns his attention to me.
He leans forward in his seat, and I shift in mine to regain my composure as he inches closer.
My eyes flit between him and the table, a habit still ingrained in me from my time with Clive.
The last thing I wanted was his attention.
But as I lift my eyes to Gio’s once more, I find his gaze’s hold on me is so strong that looking away feels impossible.
He then asks, “What are you looking for with your newfound freedom? How do you wish to spend it?” His voice is so soft.
I have to watch his lips to understand his words.
As my eyes move between his mouth and his amber gaze, my heart feels warm, and my shoulders feel lighter. It’s an unexplainable sensation.
“Freedom,” I whisper. “I hope to survive long enough to truly feel what it is to be free. I want a safe place to raise my daughter and enough money to support us.” It’s then that I bite my lip and shake my head.
“Beyond that, I just want my head to not feel so heavy.” At that, I suck in a breath as fresh tears blur my vision.
Gio nods and leans back in his chair. With the distance between us and my blurry vision, the spell he cast upon me breaks and I suddenly regret my honesty. “I should go,” I say, standing.
“What if I could help you?” Gio stands, joining me. “The position I’m looking to fill would offer you everything you’re asking for—a safe place to live, and the pay is $500 per day, which is $15,000 a month.”
His statement has my head snapping back in his direction.
Though, I’m sure there’s a catch. “$15,000 a month? For what? What kind of job could I possibly qualify for that pays that much and includes somewhere to stay?” Eyes wide and mouth agape, I wait for his response. For once, Gio is the one to hesitate.
Finally, he says, “It’s for a live-in housekeeper position—cooking, cleaning, caring for the home, running my personal errands, things such as that.”
“Your personal errands? You want me—us—to live with you, take care of you?” At that, I shake my head as a familiar sense of defeat creeps in. “And what else is required? Because it sounds like what you really want is a wife and there’s one key domestic duty you’ve left off.”
At that, Gio’s brows crinkle. “Darcy, I’m not— I would be completely professional. Everything would be legitimate. This isn’t a ruse. This is a very real job and one I’ve been struggling to fill.”
Part of me doesn’t believe him and that part hurts—the part of me who’s been sexualized as long as I can remember.
I was heavier, so I matured earlier. By nine, I was wearing my first bra.
By ten, I’d gotten my first period. While my development was completely natural, the interest it drew from older men was scarring.
Those scars ripped open when I realized how wrong Clive was for making me a bride at eighteen.
Now, Gio’s words pick at them as I note he only became interested in me after the bartender pointed out my breasts and suggested I’m used to entertaining men.
Then, there’s another part of me that does believe him, that knows he could never dream of having sex with me or loving me because I’m so…
I shake my head, unwilling to degrade myself as others have.
But that’s just it. I have been degraded, bullied, made to feel insecure all my life.
While the kids at school called me fat, my dad’s friends and other creeps called me sexy.
I was just a kid. All of this made me more susceptible to Clive and then, he became my biggest bully.
Somehow that part hurts me more because it makes me feel—Gio’s made me feel—the same way Clive did: never good enough to love or be cared for; only good enough to serve and care for others.
With his offer, any respect he may have shown me, kindness even, feels tainted.
What Gio—Mr. Moretti—is offering doesn’t sound at all like the freedom I’ve fought so hard for.
No matter the money, it sounds like another prison, and I won’t fall for it.
“Respectfully, I decline.” With that, I move to get Delilah.
“Darcy, please,” Gio says then. He moves around the table and reaches me as I gather Delilah and move toward the exit.
“Darcy,” he says once more. Reaching out, he grabs my arm to stop me from leaving.
His touch is gentle, but it doesn’t matter.
I instantly freeze and pinch my eyes closed.
I can feel the panic inching through my veins.
My legs tremble, and my bladder feels as if it may burst.
“Please,” I whisper, my eyes still pressed tightly together.
“Let me go.” Upon request, Gio removes his hand.
I take a few deep breaths to collect myself before opening my eyes.
The second I do I focus them on the doorway at the end of the dining room and march toward it with the same intensity I did the day I left Clive.