Chapter 17 #2
I threw myself into his arms, desperate for something solid to cling to.
My sobs echoed my relief. His sure, strong hands drew me close, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cold dread seeping into my bones.
Continuous sobs burst from my lungs. I clutched at his shirt, drenching the material, breathing in the scent of his cologne.
The earthy fragrance provided a stronger sense of peace than I expected.
He stroked my nape, down to my spine and planted soft kisses on my head, waiting for my turmoil to deplete.
Ironic, the man I ran from not too long ago; I now cleaved to for solace.
Once the final sob hiccuped from me and my limbs grew numb, I backed out of his embrace.
I waited for the click of the car lock. Instead, he jostled my shoulders.
My spine tensed, and I kept my watery gaze trained on the lawn.
He tipped my chin, compelling me to meet his furious gaze. “Gemma,” his whisper sounded untamed, broken. Tremendous power shook his frame, and a dark curl lopped over his forehead. “What happened? Tell me, from the beginning. Did he force you outside?”
Force? The word alone induced Franco’s repulsive touch to those intimate areas I didn’t want him to touch. A breath trembled from my lips. Incapable of speech.
“Tell me, Gemma, before I lose it.” He raked a hand through his dark hair.
“Enzo, please drive me home.” I quivered, in no frame of mind to speak. Thank God he listened and unlocked the door, but before he could help me into the passenger seat, his gaze landed on the droplets staining the pale blue satin. His face darkened, a dangerous stillness settling over him.
He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. “Did he…?” he demanded in a low, guttural growl.
“It’s not mine,” I choked out, the words barely a whisper. “It’s Franco’s. From when you hit him. He didn’t… he didn’t get a chance…”
His thumbs dug into my shoulders, a desperate pressure. An unspoken threat hung in the air, heavier than before. I nodded, conveying the truth, the fear, the revulsion.
His gaze bored into mine, searching. “He’ll pay… I’ll make him pay.” Enzo released his hold as if burned, and I collapsed into the seat.
He then rounded the car, hopped into the driver’s seat, and sped out of the lot.
We lurched forward, gravel spitting behind us.
He’d likely burn this entire estate to the ground before he ever set foot here again.
The frantic beat of my heart eased with each mile we put between us and those Calafiores.
But the relief was fleeting. A hot coal settled in my gut, burning with a trapped sense of resentment.
Enzo’s whitened knuckles shone beneath the streetlights, relentless in his grasp on the wheel. “You still haven’t answered me. How’d you end up outside with Franco?” The demand in his tone grew louder.
A metallic taste flooded my mouth. I had to swallow against the urge to scream, to shatter the windshield with my bare hands.
If I told him I wanted to hear my mother’s voice, would he believe me?
The same man who made me wear this tracking device because he thought I tried running away at the beach.
What if he misinterpreted my actions tonight as another escape attempt?
What if the repercussions this time held heavier weight than a piece of jewelry and I put my parents in danger?
He veered to the roadside and slammed the brakes. “Enough with the silence. What did he do?”
At that moment, I hated Enzo. I hated him for forcing me into this marriage, this life, hated his family and his ties to the mafia.
I gritted my teeth. “If only I’d had a gun.
I could have stopped him the same way I stopped you on our wedding night.
” The words burst out, raw and ugly. “Stopped you from…”
He flinched, a barely perceptible tightening around his eyes. The air in the car thickened, heavy with unspoken regret. “Gemma, believe me when I say this. I tested the waters to see if—”
“If what?” I choked on the question, consumed by the heat in my throat. “That I’d just… fall into bed with you?”
He shrugged at the dark road and snapped to me once again. “I… I won’t lie. The way you looked at me, the first night in the restaurant… I knew you were shy, but I assumed I could woo you if given the chance. I wanted you Gemma… I still do.”
I scoffed. As if I’d jump into bed with a complete stranger. “I’m not the type, Enzo.”
“And I realized this on our wedding night. Haven’t I kept my word to you since?” He hammered his fist against the console, the plastic groaning under the force. “I will not touch you unless you ask.”
“And I will not ask!” I retorted and pounded my fists into my lap. “Just like I never asked you to undress me for that photo!”
His gaze widened as if I’d shot him in the gut. I hadn’t brought the event up since, but he’d crossed the line the first night he dragged me to his home.
He massaged the bridge of his nose. “Gemma, I swear, all I did was unhook your straps. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t touch you anywhere else. I promise.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with a truth I couldn’t deny.
Despite everything, I believed him. And that terrified me more than any lie because it meant a part of me…
trusted him. Wanted to trust him. He’d had countless opportunities to trespass into my bedroom and take me against my will, but he hadn’t.
I stared out at the hills swallowing the dark road, their shadowy slopes a silent audience to our fight.
“Still doesn’t change the fact tonight wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t kidnapped me.
” I tapped my temple to emphasize the fact.
“If you and your maniac mother gave up on revenge, we’d not be in this mess. ”
His shoulders drooped, defeated. What possible comeback did he have?
None. No excuse for the chaos he and his mother threw me into all for their sweet revenge.
He froze, gaze narrowing to slits, and a guttural sound emitted from his throat.
His thumb brushed the exposed skin of my neck above the satin material.
The friction caused a burning sting over the exact spot where Franco no doubt left a mark.
Nostrils flared. He bared his teeth, then veered back onto the road and sped toward his home estate.
◆◆◆
My skin crawled, a thousand tiny needles pricking just beneath the surface.
I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar darkness.
The silence in the room was absolute. It was late.
Well past midnight. Still in my blue dress, I must have cried myself to sleep after bolting from Enzo’s car earlier.
The sensation intensified, a frantic urge to wash away Franco’s heavy cologne—a choking pine scent that clung to my skin.
Stumbling to the en-suite shower, I cranked the water to scalding.
The hot spray aggravated the scratches along my back, but I ignored the sting, desperate to scour myself clean, peel away every layer of skin until there was nothing left of Franco’s touch.
If possible, I’d scrub my brain clean to erase him.
My fingertips grazed a raw outline on my neck, and I winced, the memory of his grip as sharp as the sting.
Turning off the water, I stepped out of the stall, droplets tracing cool paths down my goosebumped flesh.
I twisted with slow caution, angling my shoulders to catch my reflection in the steam-fogged mirror.
My back was a painful tapestry—a dense network of angry, crisscrossing scratches where the thorns had raked across me in the low-cut dress.
The lines, raw and inflamed, marred my damp back, some deeper than others.
Drawing a steadying breath, I turned fully, facing the mirror.
My eyes immediately snagged on the mark blooming high on the side of my neck.
An ugly, violent bruise, already darkening to a sickening bluish-purple.
The exact spot where his teeth had sunk.
It looked swollen, tender, a visceral imprint of the assault.
The tangible proof, the tormenting reminder of his violation, made my chin wobble.
Tears I hadn’t shed in the shower pricked behind my eyes.
Tremors shook my body, making the simple act of pulling on my pajamas difficult.
Air seethed between my clenched teeth. Every slight movement dragged the fabric across the fresh scratches.
Thirst clawed at my throat. I opened the bedroom door, glad to find the guards gone, and snuck my way into the downstairs kitchen.
The sink gleamed, spotless, as if no one ever dared to use it.
Another testament to the army of staff lurking in the shadows of this place.
Finishing my cold drink, I placed my glass in the sink, ready to sneak back up to my room, but paused, one step on the stairs.
Voices, sharp and angry, tore through the silence, originating from the front porch. I inched toward the entrance. Through the sheer curtain, their livid silhouettes stood stark beneath the porch light.
“I told you not to fall for this woman. You’ve surprised me. I never thought you’d follow in Lorenzo’s footsteps.”
What? She assumed Enzo fell for me? I swallowed. My stomach fluttered at the idea. Grinding my molars, I ignored the tingle. No. Enzo in love with me? What a terrible fate. No way did this game evolve into the real deal.
“Once again, Carina, you’re being overdramatic.” Enzo grated back.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what you did! You humiliated me. In front of Tommaso!”
“Humiliated?” He spat. “What about Gemma? What about her humiliation when Franco put his hands all over her? When he left his mark on her! Out of my way! You’ll not stop me from shooting him!”