Chapter 16 #2
As vicious thoughts leave a lust for blood creeping through my veins, Darcy comes to and says, “The only decent thing that man ever game me was Delilah and I suppose that makes it all worth it. I can’t imagine my life without her.
” I sigh and rub my hand over my forehead to calm myself.
If Darcy can speak without breaking, I can listen without losing it.
Thankfully, she’s too in her own head to notice the fury building inside me.
“What’s difficult is, I also can’t imagine my life without him and the scars he’s left me with—body and soul.
It feels like I’ll never be free of him, even with all this distance between us. ”
She looks at me then and I’m left speechless with my heart racing in my chest. No wonder she was struggling to sleep. I don’t know how I’ll get any rest after hearing this. What’s worse is I suspect this is only a glimmer of her torment, a single piece of the perilous puzzle.
“What’s his name?” I ask. My voice is low and stern.
It’s a tone I wouldn’t normally use with her and a question I shouldn’t ask.
One, because I don’t want her to have to speak of him for a moment longer.
And two, because I know the second I discover his name, destroying him will be the only thing on my mind.
Fuck Serena and the cartel. Fuck Damon being right.
I don’t care. I will hunt this bastard down and strip him of every ounce of dignity he thinks he holds.
Darcy holds my gaze but hesitates to answer.
It’s as if she can see the visions of torture I have planned for him in my narrowed, amber eyes and she’s considering if she can allow such a fate to rest on her conscious.
Don’t worry, my angel, I’ll take full responsibility for his death before man and God alike.
Finally, she says, “I won’t say his name inside this house.
I won’t taint these walls by summoning his wicked spirit.
” She looks away from me despite my eyes not leaving her for a single moment.
She then slides out of the booth and reaches for her teacup.
“It’s getting late. I should get some rest. We both shou—” As she reaches for my teacup with her free hand, I stop her by placing mine overtop hers.
Her eyes flick to mine and as our gaze locks, I maneuver our hands so that I may hold hers.
I know I shouldn’t. I know close proximity and physical touch is a trigger for her, but… I can’t help myself.
“Darcy,” I whisper, moving my eyes from hers to our intertwined fingers.
“Gio.” I hear the hesitation in her voice, the confusion.
Though, her other hand, still holding her teacup, doesn’t shake, and she doesn’t pull away.
Perhaps she’s too stunned to. But, regardless, I give her hand a gentle squeeze to express my sympathy in a way that I just can’t with words.
I don’t trust my words at this point, nor my tone.
But I am so so sorry for all the pain she’s endured, for every scar she’s incurred.
I should’ve expected as much with the way she handled nearly being raped and killed just last night.
She was scared and in shock, but she bounced back quicker than almost anyone could have.
And she did because it was just one traumatic event on an already long list.
With me still unable to speak and still holding her hand, Darcy does her best to ease the tension in the room by changing the subject.
“What time would you like your breakfast in the morning? We never really discussed all the details of my assignment and your expectations.” I take her question as a cue to compose myself and release her.
So, I do. Darcy immediately grabs the teacup and begins making her way to the kitchen.
“Uh, um…” I rub my forehead again and try to find my way back to normalcy.
I have a pretty set routine, despite things being thrown off the past couple of days.
It takes me a moment to remember it. But by the time Darcy finishes handwashing the teacups and putting them back on the shelf, I’ve collected myself and have her an answer.
“I usually eat breakfast at eight,” I say, standing from my place in the living room and moving toward the kitchen.
“But I’ll be up at five. I, uh, drink a protein shake at 5:30 and then I head out for a workout. ”
Darcy nods as she dries her hands. “Alright, then I’ll be up at five as well and have your protein shake ready for you at 5:30.”
“Darcy, it’s already midnight. You don’t have to—”
“It’s best we find our new normal,” she says, cutting me off.
“For my sake and Delilah’s. We’ve had so much change recently.
A routine would be good for us.” She speaks calmly, assuredly, as she takes a few steps toward me.
Perhaps she’s right. We should both find our way to a sense of normalcy before things get too blurry.
I’ve got Serena and the cartel to focus on and she needs a sense of calm, a sense of routine, in order to heal from all the wicked torment she’s endured.
“Alright, then. I can’t argue with that. I’ll have the paperwork ready for your signature, as well as a detailed depiction of my day-to-day and all the other things you’ll need, waiting for you on the kitchen island by the time you wake up.”
“Sounds good.” She moves past me toward the staircase.
“Goodnight, Darcy,” I say, turning to watch her as she walks away. “And sweet dreams.”
She stops then and turns to face me. She looks at me with parted lips. A tiny wrinkle forms on her forehead. It’s then that she says, “Goodnight, Gio.” And with that, she continues upstairs.