Chapter 16 #2
"All these years, I couldn't make up my mind if I ever had to tell you the truth. It's one of the few things in life I found myself...indecisive. But after what happened tonight..."
His lips twist, and my own heart twists alongside it in shared pain.
"All it takes is for a person to be at the wrong place, Sarica, and you can lose everything...the way I lost everything."
His face has turned into an expressionless mask.
And yet I could've sworn I heard his heart crack with every word he uttered.
"The night my father and grandfather were ambushed...I should've been there. With them. But I wasn't. I was at the wrong place. And...that was all it took."
No. Oh no. No.
I don't want to hear this, God.
I can't.
But it's too late.
The moment Giancarlo's voice turns hoarse, something inside of me starts to stir.
And the moment I see him close his eyes as if his own eyes have him trapped, it's that same thing which comes into life—-
No. No. No.
I watch Giancarlo's fists clench as he fights off his demons. I watch him drag air into his lungs as he frees himself from the past all on his own. When he opens his eyes again, it's the same Giancarlo that I know.
The same Giancarlo that has been by my side for the past four years.
He looks at me again, and it's the same dark eyes that have been watching me...and watching over me all this time.
"Do you understand now?"
His voice is gentle once more. It's as if I only imagined the hoarseness I heard earlier. It's only as if I imagined his pain. And vulnerability. But I know I didn't, and I also know I'll never be able to forget it...even if I wished I could.
"That is all it takes to lose everything. To be at the wrong place."
Yes, dammit.
How can I not get it when he's cut his heart out just to make his point?
"And so do you also understand why I will never let you go?"
To deny this would be a lie, but even so—-
"We both know you're not stupid," I say stiltedly. "So you have to know that it's not your fault—-"
"You have never been stupid either," Giancarlo interjects flatly, "but did you not once blame yourself for being abducted and almost raped?"
"That's in the past—-"
"But if you found out another girl is to be abducted and raped, and you have a chance to put a stop to it, would you not do everything to save her?"
Fuck.
I hate, hate, hate this part of him, too.
I hate it when he's always the one to remind me that both of us are peas from the same fucking pod.
I hate it when he makes it sound like the two of us together makes beautiful sense.
I hate it, dammit.
But not as much as I fear it, and that's why—-
"What's up with this, anyway?"
I find myself changing the subject like a coward, and all so I don't have to hear him say words that make it seem like the two of us are destined.
Because we're fucking not.
"You've never bothered to speak with me in private. So why are you suddenly—-"
"Because it's no longer prohibited."
The way he confirms the truth so casually throws me off, and I end up blurting out the first thought that pops into my mind.
"So it's true? What Maryse said? That you didn't want to risk being called a pedophile?"
His gaze bores through me. "What other reason could there be?"
"How the hell would I know? I don't really know you—-"
"Because you chose not to know me."
"Excuse me?" I can't help feeling defensive at how he accuses me so easily. "Shouldn't that go both ways? Because you also don't know—-"
"Try me."
Oh, so he's really going to challenge me on this?
"What's my favorite color?"
Amusement gleams in his eyes. "That's really what you want to ask?"
Childish or not, it still proves my fucking point, so—-
"Yes," I retort with a proud tilt of my chin. "That's exactly what I want to ask—-"
"It's pink—-"
Ha!
"But because you'd rather die than admit this, you always lie and tell anyone who cares to ask that your favorite color is black."
H-H-How the fuck did he know that?
"You also hate drinking anything hot because it reminds you of what you didn't experience when you were a child: someone to tell you ice-cold drinks may leave your throat sore."
What the fuck?
"You have 'Everybody Wants to Rule the World' on repeat when you study, and I know this because I'm the one who pays for your music subscription. It's why I also know you watch Korean dramas at night, on mute. You've forgotten how I'm also the one paying for your streaming subscriptions—-"
Somebody fucking do something before I fucking—-
"I can practically hear you swearing in your mind," Giancarlo drawls.
"Should I say it out loud then?" I snarl.
"If you want to be spanked for it, be my guest."
S-S-Spanked?
I stare at him in a mix of shock and outrage, but when he only gazes back at me calmly, the words fly out of my mouth in a livid cry.
"W-What's gotten into you?"
"This is how I have always been."
"A jerk?"
"You may call it however way you wish. Only take care not to forget that everything will be different, now that both of us are adults—-"
"Is that some kind of fucking threat?"
"A promise."
"Yeah right—-"
"Careful now, dolcezza."
It's his first time to address me with an endearment, and it actually steals my breath away.
What the hell is going on?
"I may be a lot of things, but have I ever lied to you?"
I stare at him mutinously, but silence isn't enough for him.
"Have I?"
"No."
But damn him for forcing me to say this.
"And have I ever given you any reason to distrust me?"
"You already know—-"
"Yes or no, Sarica."
"No! Happy now?"
"Not yet. Although I suppose I will be once I've made my point clear. But first, I need your hand."
What? Why? Fuck no!
"Your hand, Sarica."
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I find myself placing my hand in his even as I hate myself for doing so.
"Now, look at me while I'm holding your hand."
What the hell?
"Look at me."
The command in his words is unmistakable this time, and I find myself obeying even as it makes me hate myself even more.
I look at him.
"What do you see?"
A man with silver streaks in his dark hair. A man who's sixteen years older, but also sixteen thousand light years ahead of me in experience. A man whom the world loves to describe as both gorgeous and gentle. A man whom practically everyone sees as the prince of thieves.
I see the man that others see.
But I can't seem to make myself feel the way the whole world feels about him.
And when I look into his eyes...
Fuck.
I realize that he's always known this, and I don't know, dammit.
"You never saw me as a man."
I don't know what I should feel, knowing that he also knows the truth.
"But it's going to change now."
And before I realize what he's doing, he's already placed my hand on his chest.
Fuck!
I immediately try yanking my hand away, but his lips only curve even as his grip on my hand tightens.
"L-Let go—-"
"You feel it, don't you?"
"I don't know what the hell—-"
"The way you make my heart race."
Noooooooo.
I don't know why those words scare me, but it does.
I don't know why, but it terrifies me to death.
"Whatever you think you're doing," I hear myself snarl out, "it won't work!"
"Let me worry about that," he says softly.
"I will n-never see you as a man—-"
He presses my hand more closely to his chest, and my voice falters as I become inexplicably, foolishly, and agonizingly aware of what I'm touching.
This...
This is his skin.
His flesh.
It's Giancarlo's chest I'm touching, his chest that feels smooth, hard, and hot under my skin.
It's him I'm touching.
And I don't understand why that matters, but it suddenly does.
"You understand now, dolcezza? How everything has started to change?"
He sounds so fucking self-assured that I just can't help it.
"Fuck you!"
But I regret it as soon as I say it.
And just a bit terrified.
Because childhood wounds never really heal completely, and I think there'll always be a part of me that would wonder if a day would ever come that even someone like Giancarlo would—-
"In time..."
And there it is, I think dully.
He's going to tell me the same things my father used to say, just before he'd start beating me up.
In time...you'll learn not to disrespect me.
In time...you'll know what's good for you.
In time...
"You will."
My heart stops beating.
Giancarlo lets go of my hand.
And still I wait...for nothing, it seems.
I don't get it.
Is that really it?
In time, he says, you will...what?
Dark eyes gleam at me.
"Do you need it spelled out, dolcezza?"
It seems like I do, but I'm too proud to admit it out loud.
"You said, 'fuck you.' And my reply is..."
His earlier words echo in my mind—-
In time...you will.
And this time, to both our surprise—-
I actually end up...blushing.