Chapter 11
MICHAEL
Hearing the misery in her voice when she told me she’d been hurt before…it did something to me. I wanted to find every one of them and burn their bodies while they still had air to breathe. I knew the kind of life she was living there, but to hear it, it’s different.
Makes me wish I could get rid of the Bianchis myself. Nice and quiet. But things like this always have a way of coming out. I can’t risk my baby girl’s life, and she’s counting on me to stay alive too.
I despise the Bianchis. All of them. It’s the reason I never agreed to marry Chiara, Faro’s only daughter. I didn’t want to tie myself to that family for the rest of my life.
Chiara’s innocent, though. She has no idea the kind of family she’s been born into.
What they’ve been doing at the sex club they’ve been running for years while everyone looks away—celebrities, politicians, cops, judges.
They frequent that shithole too, so of course they’d want themselves protected.
One wrong move, and Faro would expose them.
But our men know not to step foot in that club, or they’ll die for it.
The Bianchis hurt innocents—women, children, they don’t care. That’s not what we’re about. We don’t sell people. We have a line we don’t cross, and that’s where it is.
“What are you guys making for dinner?” Elsie asks.
I try my hardest to avoid her eyes, burying my hands in a cabinet to pull out a bowl. It’s like they haunt me every time I catch them. I don’t know if it’s because I feel sorry for her or because I’m attracted to her—or both. I’ve never been this unsure about anything in my life.
I shouldn’t have touched her like I did earlier. Like I cared. But fuck, I do care. Care about what she’s been through, wanting to know everything so I can somehow make it right.
A woman like Elsie should be worshipped. Body, heart, both taken care of. Yet I’m hurting her. When she’s long gone, she’ll find a man who deserves her, who won’t hurt her anymore. I’ll never be him.
“Baked ziti!” Sophia announces, taking the bowl from me while I go to the fridge, glancing at Elsie as she stands off to the side, fingers playing with the hem of her black tank top.
I hate that she’s still wearing those damn clothes. None of my stuff would even fit her. And I can’t ask my mother. Not until they know about her, which will be within a day or two.
I’ve already made the call to someone I know at Saks Fifth Avenue, who’s going to set her up with a complete wardrobe. Everything is planned to be sent over by tomorrow morning. Hopefully, they don’t send over lingerie, because if she wears any…
I sigh heavily, balling a hand into a fist. There’s only a limited amount of restraint I’m capable of.
I close the fridge a little too hard, going to the stove. With the olive oil in my hand, I uncap it, sprinkling some on the already heated pan.
“Do you like baked ziti?” Sophia asks, peeking up at Elsie with excitement while I walk over to the counter where they stand together.
I start on the sauce, undoing the cuffs of my shirt and pulling up the sleeves to my elbows. I can sense her tracking my movements as I grate the fresh tomatoes. My mother would kill me if I used the canned stuff.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had it,” Elsie remarks.
And when I peer over, I find her smiling, but it’s the goddamn sad kind of smile. The kind that rips through your soul, and this woman is an expert at doing that to me already.
My hand grates harder, almost cutting my damn finger. My heart pounds from the mere thought of what Faro and his people did to her. What she must’ve missed out on.
How long has she been theirs? How many fucking years have they been doing this to her?
I march back to the stove, slicing some garlic on the cutting board before tossing it into the sizzling pan, along with some shallots and grinds of pepper.
“Daddy's the best cook ever,” Sophia continues. “Right, Daddy?”
I force a smile as I glance over my shoulder at my daughter even while my mind is still on the woman I plan to marry. It’s a good thing she probably thinks of me like I’m no better than the Bianchis. It’ll make keeping myself from falling for her that much easier.
“Can we play some music, Daddy?” Sophia asks. “Like always?”
“Sure, princess. Let me get my cell out.”
“Daddy and me always play music when we make stuff together,” she explains. “Do you wanna pick a song, Elsie?”
“Uhhh…” She swallows, tugging her brows, biting her lower lip as her eyes land to mine. She appears as though she’s about to burst into tears.
But why?
“How about we leave Elsie alone? Okay, princess?”
“No.” Elsie shakes her head. “I…I want to. Pick a song, if that’s okay. I don’t even know if they still have it. It’s…uh…” Her eyes swell with tears, brimming around her lower lashes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard it.”
I foolishly realize that wherever she’d been, there was no music there at all.
I drop everything, going to her until I’m right in front, grabbing her hand in mine. “Tell me the name of the song, and I will find it for you.”
Her chin trembles a little as she clings her eyes to mine, and I can tell how badly she’s trying to keep herself from falling apart.
My hand slides to her face, a finger forcing all that beautiful black hair away from her brows.
And I’m doing it again, touching her like she matters.
Her mouth parts, a breath stilling in her lungs as she inhales.
“‘I Won’t Give Up,’” she says. “By Jason Mraz.”
My hand falls to my pocket, and without separating from her gaze, I fire up the music app and speak the name of the song. As I press play, the melody slips into the air and her soft smile grows.
“Thank you.”
She sighs. And I almost want to kiss her. Too close to doing it.
“I’d ask you for a dance...” I trace my knuckles across the underside of her jaw. “But I’m about to burn our dinner…” My lips quirk up. “And the last thing I want is for my future wife to think I’m a bad cook.”
Her laugh is small, but what it does to my heart is damn right huge. She’s unraveling me. Slowly turning the key and undoing the lock that holds the future I once wanted.
“Uh, Daddy?” Sophia whispers. “Are you going to kiss her? With tongue?”
I yank my head back, glancing down at my daughter staring up at me, while Elsie tries hard not to snicker.
“How the hell do you know about that?”
She shrugs all innocently.
“Let me guess.” I shake my head. “Jackie.”
She nods, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Bingo.”
ELSIE
After the most delicious dinner I had tasted in a long time, we cleaned up together, the music still playing as we did, changing to songs I had yet to discover. I liked hearing what’s popular today. Made me feel like I was finally part of the world I’d been torn away from.
The day has turned into night, and Sophia was tucked into bed a few minutes ago.
Together, we tread to his bedroom, the one we must share together, and my stomach tenses as we continue inside.
“I’ll find you something to sleep in.” His voice is hard, and it’s like he hides behind it, this tough exterior.
But I much prefer the man who held my hand and played the song for me while he stared into my eyes. And I wonder which one he prefers to be: the man he shows the world or the one hidden beneath.
“Thanks,” I say as he brushes past me toward the dresser drawers, digging inside and fetching a black t-shirt.
He holds it up in both hands. “This should be long enough.”
His eyes wander down my body, and I instantly grow warm and sensitive all over. I’m only five-three. It’ll definitely be long enough to cover right past my knees.
“You’re free to use the shower whenever you want, and anything else in this room.” He brings the shirt to me, barely looking my way.
I take it from him, our fingers grazing, and I prickle where his touch has just been.
His jaw tenses as he glances down at me for only a single moment before strutting away, giving me his back. Wordlessly, I take the shirt with me to the bathroom, and when I shut the door behind me, my back hits the door, the shirt clutched in my fist.
I shutter my eyes, breathing in and out. It all hits me in this moment. The fact that I’ve escaped one hell and entered another. And yes, maybe he isn’t as bad…so far. But he’s still a bad man. A criminal. Someone who’s keeping me hostage. I’m nothing but his captive.
I’d do anything to go back in time and stop myself and my friends from getting in that car. What would our life be like if we’d never gone on that road trip?
But life doesn’t give us second chances. We take one road, and all we can do is hope that the next turn we make will be better than the last.
I hang the shirt on the hook, taking off my clothes and placing them on the floor. I’d burn them if I could. They remind me of that place. Of the hell I went through.
I strut further inside, heading for the shower.
Sliding open the glass door, I turn the knob, bringing the water roaring to life before I slip under it.
I once again try to wash away the filth, the grime of my life, but no matter how much I scrub, I can’t seem to get their hands off my body.
I can almost feel them. The grunts, the slaps, the tears filling my eyes.
I scrub and scrub until my skin turns red. Emotions dig into my eyes, and I fight them away, taking a few moments to collect myself.
Shutting off the water, I snatch a towel and dry off before grabbing the shirt and slipping it over my head. It definitely hits past my knees. Considering I have no panties underneath, that’s a good thing.
How am I supposed to sleep beside him like this? At least the bed is large enough.
Drawing up some courage, I open the door to face him. But as I do, the sight of his bare back hits me, and I release an internal gasp. His tanned skin is on full display. Hard, well-defined muscles ripple as he readies to pull a shirt over his body.
I don’t want to feel this way. The tightening in my core, the rattling of my breathing. I don’t want any of it, but he makes me feel it anyway.