11. Gabriella
“You didn’t have to blindfold me again,” I say once we reach the cabin. I shove the blindfold in his hands, desperate to get away from it.
“I still can’t trust you not to tell your brothers where you are.”
“Then when?” I ask as we leave the van and head back to the cabin. “We’re married, Dante. You have to trust me at some point.”
“A marriage license won’t prevent a bullet going into my head. We need to give it time. I’ll be able to trust you when you start to trust me.” He walks inside and sits at the kitchen table.
“But how can I trust you if you don’t trust me?”
He shrugs. “I guess we’re in a conundrum, then, aren’t we?”
I sigh and sit down across from him. “There’s one simple way for us to start trusting each other.”
“Which is?”
“We talk.”
He stares at me a moment before laughing. “Talk?”
“Yes, talk. You know how to talk. It’s a thing people do when they open their mouths and sound comes out.”
“I know what talking is, Gabriella.”
“Oh, good. Then you should have no problem doing it.”
He leans back in his seat, eyeing me over. It only makes me think about what we just did back in the store. I can’t believe he went down on me, and I let him. And I went down on him. The worst part—I enjoyed every second of it.
“Fine,” he eventually says. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Our childhoods.”
He snorts.
“What?” I ask. “What’s so wrong about that?”
“Nothing. It’s just … cliché, I guess? We’re just supposed to talk about our childhoods and then … what? We’ll trust each other?”
“I was hoping. That’s why I suggested it.”
He motions at me. “Fine. Talk away. Tell me all the horrible things you went through as a kid.”
“Why do you make it sound like I’ve never experienced anything horrible?” I say, crossing my arms.
“I just assumed you haven’t as the Mafia princess you are. Hardship doesn’t usually come to women like you.”
“Unbelievable,” I mutter.
“What?”
“I’ve been through hardship, Dante. Need I remind you that you kidnapped me. Twice.”
He smirks. Smirks! How does he have the audacity to sit there and pretend he hasn’t done anything wrong? “I mean, besides me. What other hardships have you been through?”
“I lost my mom,” I blurt out. That wasn’t what I had in mind to talk about, but it’s what comes out.
Dante shifts in his seat, looking at me with softer eyes. “I remember hearing about that. There were rumors your father killed her.”
“Yes. We never had any proof he was the one who killed her, but Rocco was sure of it.”
“That’s why he killed him.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Gabriella, please. Everyone knows Rocco killed your father.”
I nod. It’s hard to keep secrets from Dante. “It was hard losing my mom. I was just a kid when it happened. My father wasn’t the easiest man to be around. Growing up in his household was … cold. I was invisible most of the time. And then, when Rocco killed him, Rocco took me in. I thought I was finally going to have the freedom I so desperately wanted. But instead, I traded one cage for another. Rocco is a lot nicer than our father ever was. But he’s so protective it’s stifling. So, yes, Dante. I’ve been through hardships. You’re not the only one.”
He keeps his gaze fixed on me, and it’s intense. “I lost my mother, too. It was a long time ago. My father raised me. We had a bond. And then Rocco killed him, and he’s been hunting me ever since. I haven’t known peace in years.”
“So, we have something in common, then. Rocco killed both of our fathers. And we’ve both lost our mothers. And you say you can’t trust me.”
His lips curl up into a small smile. “Just because we have things in common, Gabriella, doesn’t mean I trust you not to run.”
“I have a much bigger reason not to trust you,” I remind him.
“Oh, I know. Which is why I’m struggling to trust you. All you’ve ever wanted was freedom. You just told me yourself. I’m keeping you captive. How can you ever trust me? Why would you even want to be with me?”
“I married you, didn’t I?”
“You did. But I had to steal you away to do it.” He leans in closer, making my breath hitch. All I want is to feel his hands and lips on my body again. “Even though we’re married, I think we’re doomed to fail. You’re a nice prize in my efforts to hurt Rocco, but I’m not sure how you can be anything more.”
His words are like a slap to the face. I shouldn’t care what he says. All I should care about is finding a way to escape.
But I want him to like me. I want him to desire me. I want him … to be happy with me.
And I want to be happy with him.
None of it makes sense. I probably belong in a mental institution for how I feel. But something in my gut tells me Dante is the only person on this earth who can give me the freedom I’ve been looking for.
Now, I just need to make him see that.