27. Cassio
The loud engine of my car vibrated as it came to life. I remained there in the parking lot unsure what to do. I gripped the steering wheel with enough force to make my busted knuckles ache again. I had almost killed Gianluca…almost. I had wanted to, but if it weren’t for Vitelli putting some sense into my head, he would have been dead.
“Fuck.” I hit the stirring wheel.
Francesca, who sat beside me on the passenger seat flinched but remained looking out her window as if her life depended on it. That was the only reaction I got from her. She refused to acknowledge my presence. She kept on bobbing her legs and her nails dug into the palm of her hands. Her sapphire eyes were wide and wild, reflected on the glass window. I had seen her like this before.
“Did you kill him?” Her voice was low enough that I almost didn’t hear.
I laughed dryly. “Are you worried I killed your supplier?”
Her head snapped to the side, and she looked at me. “You saw it?”
“How long, Francesca? How long have you been using? Did you ever stop?” I laughed again. “Were you always high? Fuck, should I worry about things going missing in my house?” By the end of it, I was laughing, but at myself.
All of this time she had been high, and I didn’t even notice, she was good at hiding, though, just like she was with all the rest. No wonder she was always in a fucking bliss. And…
“You fucking brought drugs to my house?!” I reached that realization and looked back at her. She was looking fixedly at her hands which shook slightly. “Is that why you wanted to come? So that you could buy from Gianluca?” That name! It was giving me an ulcer. “Was it your father who beat you that day? Gianluca seemed like a good candidate to do that as well.”
She gasped again and looked back at me.
Her eyes were glassy, and I didn’t know if she was holding herself from crying or if she was too high. Still, she didn’t answer and still, I wanted to hit something. The fire running through my veins was too much.
“Can we fucking go now?” she snapped, and it honestly surprised me. She wasn’t going to answer me now, but she would as soon as we arrived, it was about time we finally talked.
“Of course.” Putting the shift gear into drive, I pressed the pedal hard.
When we arrived at my place she entered my apartment like a whirlwind, pushing the door so hard it banged against the wall. Francesca was already going up the stairs when I closed the door.
“Stop following me,” she shouted once I followed her up the stairs.
“I’m heading up,” I pointed out.
“Well, leave me alone!” Francesca snapped.
“It’s my fucking house, Francesca!” I shouted back.
She laughed sardonically, and it riled me up. She nodded. “Yeah, it is.”
With that, she entered the guest room and shut the door with enough force to break it. Not even a minute later, she opened the door and marched by me, a bag in her hand.
“Where are you going?” I shouted marching after her.
“You said it, it’s your fucking house,” she snapped, running down the stairs.
Until now, I had been calm, but there was a threshold, and she was really close to making me cross it. Francesca knew what and who I was. Knew that there was a darkness in me. But until tonight, she had never really seen it.
“Don’t you dare leave, Francesca, do you hear me?” I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, Francesca’s hand on the door.
“Why?” she asked, her voice so low that I almost didn’t catch it. She didn’t turn around to face me and it was annoying.
“Just stop running!” I shouted and it felt like an order, and in the end, it was, I was done seeing her run from everything.
She laughed out loud. “You’re kidding me.” She turned the handle and opened the door. “We’re not together, Cassio. Leave me the fuck alone.”
Francesca left through my door and something I hadn’t felt in a long while took over me. It wasn’t rage or the same iciness that made me numb, it was pure panic. I imagined her going back to her apartment—which wasn’t safe—and I imagined worse. Donato putting his hands on her, branding her like he had the last time. I had no doubt that he had been the one to beat her.
Shit. She was using again, and I didn’t see it.
She wasn’t able to reach the elevator before my hands wrapped around her waist. “Let go of me!” she screamed.
I didn’t.
Because she was twisting and turning, making it hard to grasp her, I turned Francesca around and grabbed her, throwing her over my shoulder, her bag falling to the floor. Her fists connected with my ass as she still tried to make me let go. I wasn’t going to; I meant it, she needed to stop running.
Kicking the door to my apartment shut so she wouldn’t go, I set her in the middle of the living room. Instantly she began to turn away, this time toward the kitchen. I wouldn’t be surprised if she reached for a knife, Francesca seemed to have taken a liking to them.
“Francesca!” I roared.
“You can’t hold me here by force,” she screamed.
“I’m not letting you out of that door while you’re still high.” She gave me that same sardonic laugh.
“Why? I’m not your problem, Cassio. We’re not together, remember?” she threw at me. “I’m not your mess, and I’m not yours.” She was screaming still.
Francesca reached inside her purse that had been crossed over her chest, she opened it and took something from within. Instantly I recognized it to be the little Ziplock of coke Gianluca gave her. Francesca didn’t even look at it as she threw it at me. Since I was too far away, it landed on the floor, right in between us.
“Not that you would care, but it isn’t mine. I didn’t buy it and I didn’t use it. Yes, Cassio, I crave it almost every day, but for once in a long time, I want to change, to stop being that girl, the one who can barely remember the last four years of her life.” She wasn’t shouting anymore and as she spoke her voice began to tremble. I didn’t dare move from where I stood. “I am trying, Cassio, I really am.”
She exhaled deeply and looked at the window, the view of the bay and the shimmering city stretching before us. Every word she spoke was like a knife piercing my body, one more painful than the other.
I was ashamed of myself. “I know,” I confessed.
I’d seen her take her meds—the correct ones—every day. She tried to stick to a healthy routine and when she wasn’t with her mother at the hospital, she was working on herself. Francesca was truly trying to change, and guilt washed over me at my lack of trust. She had trusted me countless times, and here I was, doing the exact opposite.
I didn’t say it often, actually, I couldn’t recall the last time I said it, but I did so now with everything in me. “I’m sorry for thinking the worst, Principessa.”
When Francesca said nothing, I walked toward her and cupped her cheeks. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. I wanted to kiss those full lips of hers, to chase away the pain in her eyes. The pain I had inflicted on her.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, caressing her cheek.
“What are we doing, Cassio?” she whispered. I frowned, not following her line of thought. Francesca stepped away from me and crossed her arms.
“What do you mean, Principessa?” I grabbed her arms. I needed to feel the contact between us because I sensed she was slipping away.
“This, us. What are we doing? How long will it last?”
Where was this coming from? Francesca stepped away from me again and headed toward the kitchen, putting even more distance between us.
“Maybe it’s best if I leave, Cassio,” she remarked.
“Don’t.” I didn’t hesitate to say so.
“My father is going to marry me off again, and he has already chosen my next husband,” she said. When I didn’t say a word, she swallowed hard and scoffed. “So, you did know.” She shook her head in disbelief. “He was right.”
“He?”
She waved my question away. “You knew I was to be married.”
“Yes.” I didn’t want to lie to her. She nodded tersely.
“How long will we keep playing this game then?”
“It’s not a game, Francesca, nothing about this is a game.”
“Is it not?” she snapped. “You’re using me just like everyone else, the only difference is that it took me longer to see.”
That struck a chord. “Using you?” I scoffed. “That’s rich, given I’ve been at your beck and call like a fucking idiot.”
Her eyes widened. I sighed, not wanting to fight with her. I had so many plans for tonight, all of them involved ravaging her body and pleasuring her in the way she deserved, and this was not how it was supposed to have ended.
“What happened, Francesca, and don’t dare lie to me?”
“I opened my eyes,” she said.
“No,” I argued. “Someone said something—was it Gianluca? Your father?” Someone had put all that shit into her head. Francesca didn’t deny it, which was even worse; she’d rather believe Donato than me. “Good to know his words mean more than mine do.”
She threw her hands in the air. “What was I supposed to do?” she shouted.
“Trusted me for starters,” I threw back.
“How can I when I don’t even know what this is between us?” She waved at us. “What are we, Cassio? How long till you grow tired of me and throw me away like you did last time?”
I opened my mouth, shocked by her words, but then she wasn’t so wrong, was she? I had been an asshole and left her when she needed me the most. I might have been dealing with my own shit, but I should never have abandoned Francesca.
I ran my thumb under my lower lip, growing frustrated. I wanted her, God only knew I did, and for the second time in our lives, we stood at an impasse. Francesca was promised to someone else, and I couldn’t have her, not until I killed Grigori Petrovich and settled the promise I’d made to my sister. I couldn’t move forward until she was avenged.
“I don’t want you to go,” I confessed.
“For how long?”
“Does it matter? I want you and you want me, why can’t we just be for now?”
“Because it will end,” she pointed out simply. “Just like it did last time.” With our hearts broken and Francesca marrying another man. I couldn’t let that happen.
Again, I headed toward her and placed my hands on her waist, the smooth fabric of her dress a pale comparison to her silky skin. She didn’t seem happy with my proximity, but I needed her to understand that this wasn’t a game for me, that if I could, I would hold her forever and never let go. Even if the world fought to tear us apart, I’d hold onto Francesca. She was my lifeline.
“I’ll talk to your father,” the words slipped from my mouth. “I’ll convince him to dissolve this marriage arrangement.” I couldn’t believe my ears, but I knew at that moment I’d do anything to end it.
Not because I wanted her for myself, but because I wanted her to have her freedom. The ability to choose and to be with whom she wanted. Her sapphire eyes lit up, and in that moment, I was the luckiest man in the world to behold such a sight.
“You would?”
“For you, I would do anything, haven’t you figured that out yet?”
Francesca smiled shyly and stared at me through her lashes. I wanted to kiss her so badly. “He won’t agree to it.”
“I don’t care if I have to threaten him, I will,” I promised. “You deserve to have a choice, Principessa. To be happy with whom you choose.”
She was silent for a while and then her shy smile turned into a grin. “I’m happy here,” she admitted, and I swore my heart skipped a beat. It was none of that cheesy shit, it was the truth, I felt it. I swear.
“Then trust me,” I asked of her. “This won’t end like last time, I promise.”
“I trust you.” She did not hesitate.
I caressed her waist and took a step forward pushing her back, one of my hands cupped her neck and I brought her forward. “Good.” I pulled her closer. “Now,” I said, pulling at her hair so that her neck was exposed for me to feast on, “you’ll suffer your punishment for ever thinking I’d let you go.” I sucked on that particular spot beneath her ear which she loved.
“Cassio,” Francesca breathed.
I sucked until I left a mark, enjoying the sight of it on her. I then trailed down her neck and kissed her collar bone nibbling on it, pulled the strap of her dress, and kissed her shoulder. I did it to the other one and then kissed the swell of her breast. Francesca’s chest rose as she sucked in a deep breath. Her fingers gripped my hair as I tugged on her skin-tight dress. The fabric bunched at her waist, exposing eager pink nipples.
I pinched one just as I sucked the other into my mouth. She moaned softly, and it traveled all the way to my dick, which stirred to life. When I let them go and stood back up she was panting hard.
“Oh, Principessa,” Itugged on her bottom lip. “You’re in so much trouble.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” she ordered.
I laughed and leaned down, my lips inches from hers, enough that I could almost taste them. Francesca wouldn’t get away so easily for scaring the shit out of me. I watched as she licked her lips in anticipation. My dick strained against my pants, but I ignored it.
“Good night, Principessa.” I smirked, turned around, and left her standing there in my kitchen.
I left my bathroom, drying myself and dropping the towel on the floor. Francesca lay on my bed, her golden hair spilled over the pillow, her long legs exposed, and her silhouette outlined by my shirt that she wore to sleep.
When I lay down beside her, I stopped to stare at her beauty. At the soft lines, full lips, slightly darker brows. Angelic features. She was so undeniably beautiful it hurt to look at her. A man like me shouldn’t be privy to such a sight. It almost felt like a sin to have her here.
It took everything in me not to wake her up and fuck her like I had wanted to do all night long. It had been a testament to my strength to walk away from her, but I wanted—needed—her to know that whatever this was between us, it wasn’t about sex. It was much more than that.
With her back to me, I lay down and wrapped my arms around her like a protective barrier. I was a light sleeper but holding her always made me sleep better. She instantly melted into me and let out a soft sigh. At that moment, I couldn’t have been more fulfilled.
Francesca meant the world to me, but I needed my revenge, without it I had no idea who I was supposed to be. But I knew one thing…one thousand four hundred and six days and I still wasn’t over her.
She was mine and I was hers, simple as that. There was no fighting anymore. I couldn’t do this. I was so God damned tired. I couldn’t help falling in love with her, it was as easy as breathing.
“I love you, Principessa,” I whispered against her hair and held on tight, afraid that I would lose her for a second time in my life.
Loving her was dangerous. Loving her could break me, but I couldn’t stop myself from doing so. For four years I had tried to deny it, to forget her, but there was no forgetting Francesca Manci. There was only bracing for the wave and hoping it didn’t drown me. So, I held on tight.
I was in love with Francesca. Deeply and madly in love with her. With all her perfect imperfections. Every part of her was made to be loved by me. I only prayed she allowed me to love her like she deserved.