42. Leaving me
MICHELA
42
Most often, Corrado converses with his brother in Italian. Sometimes in French and rarely in English, but tonight, lots of what was said between the two was in English. And I put together the pieces that were in another language.
Like the part where his brother wants to “take care of me.” Probably in the same way Drago wanted to take care of me.
Then there was talk about my brother, which, sadly, they didn’t exchange in English. Lastly, Corrado spoke about being a monster and how no sane woman would enter a marriage with him. Which I took offense to. Not only did I enter the arrangement, I’ve come to like him, and he’s saying I’m insane for it.
Even called me insane for saving Drago’s life.
Once I heard enough, I went back to the bedroom and dressed, then came out just in time to hear Corrado tell his brother how our arrangement is over. He’s brought me here to hide out, and then he’ll leave. I want to spare us both the parting and goodbyes (I hate those).
I turn the doorknob and open the front door.
A palm slaps above my head and slams the door closed. I try opening it to no avail. Corrado’s strength overpowers mine. I spin around and look up at him.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Jesse’s.” If he’ll have me.
“Can’t let you do that,” he says.
“You can’t stop me unless you shoot me.”
“We’ll see about that.” With his left hand, he reaches for a metal box next to the door. Eyes on me, he punches in numbers that trigger a bunch of clicks inside the house. Next, the shutters slam down, and tiny emergency lights come on.
I look around the darkened house. “What did you do?”
“I punched in the code for panic.”
“Like a lockdown?”
He nods.
“We’re stuck here. For how long?”
“However long I want.”
Real panic starts rearing her ugly head, and my breathing turns ragged. “Our arrangement is over. You said it yourself.”
“I know what I said.”
“I can’t stay with you anymore.”
“You can in the same way you can have an alcoholic drink and be okay.”
“I doubt I’ll be okay after you’re done with me.”
He says nothing to comfort me or deny he won’t have a normal relationship with me.
“You know, couples meet, and then they date, and love that was once out of reach comes within reach. The dating is exciting, exhilarating even.”
“I was upfront with you. I told you I don’t date.”
“My heart didn’t hear you. For me, all that was fake between us became real. So you see, I can’t stay with you because you never made the leap, and you’re not even willing to jump in.” When Corrado simply watches me in that way he does, I push on: “Say something.”
“Do you mean that?” he asks.
“Mean what?”
“That you love me.”
I pinch my lips. Did I really say that out loud? Do I really love this unattainable man? Now, I’m the one who can’t say anything.
“Do you mean it?” he asks again.
I won’t bare any more of myself for him. “I’m leaving.”
“The door is locked.”
“Open it.”
“I don’t want you to go,” he says.
“Why not?” I expect him to tell me how he feels about me.
“Reasons.” Corrado presses his lips to my forehead and rips the duffel from my hand. He walks away.
I catch up with him and use both hands to try to take back my duffel. Strong and unfazed, he doesn’t let go. Corrado enters the garage and strides past the now-white car we drove here in and also a motorcycle that I presume belongs to Drago.
From the corner, he grabs a large canister of gasoline and carries it with the duffel back into the house. What the heck? I follow him into the bathroom, where he inverts the duffel and dumps my clothes into the tub.
Near the tub is an odd-looking red switch. He flips it, and the ceiling of the bathroom starts opening into a hollow, dark space. The noise coming from it makes me think there’s a fan in there.
“What is that?” I ask.
Corrado flings the duffel at my chest, pours gasoline on my clothes, and lights them all on fire. The flames rise high, and I back away from them with my mouth gaping. The opening starts to suck up all the smoke.
Holy crap, this looks like an incinerator of some sort, and Corrado is using it to burn my clothing. I cannot believe what I’m seeing.
Corrado jerks his head. “Throw in the rest.”
“What?”
“The rest of your clothes. Throw them in.”
I grip the bottom of my dress. “This all I have left.”
“I know. That’s the point. Kind of hard to think about leaving if you have no clothes.”
I blink up at him. “You’ve lost your mind.”
Corrado narrows his eyes. “The clothes, Michela. In the tub. Right now.”
I lift my middle finger and stomp out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where I open the closet and scoop out as many suits and pressed shirts as I can carry. The pile blocks my view, and I nearly trip as I march back to the bathroom and throw all his stuff into the roaring flames.
Hands on his hips, Corrado stands aside.
I repeat the process twice until all his clothes are in flames. “There. See how that feels?”
Corrado strips naked and adds everything he’s wearing into the burning pile. “Your turn.”
He reaches for my dress.
I slap his hand away.
He does it again.
I slap it away again.
He captures my wrists, drags me out of the bathroom, and slams the door. He pins me against the bathroom door and slams my wrists above my head. His jaw works, and his gaze is on my mouth. “I want you to stay,” he growls.
“After you burned my clothes?”
He nods.
“After you told your brother and me how our arrangement is over?”
Another nod.
“After you ended my employment when you promised I could have that job? We even put it into our agreement.”
“Yes, yes. After everything.”
“That first night I asked you out to dinner. You missed the date on purpose. Admit it.”
Corrado scrunches up his nose. “I admit it.”
Oh God. “You did that because you don’t want to deal with anything remotely human, like feelings.”
Another nod.
“But I need your feelings. I need your heart.”
Clearly out of his comfort zone, Corrado grits his teeth. If it wasn’t sad, it would be comical how much he hates intimacy.
“I want you before I let you go,” he finally says.
He’s changing the subject and taking control of the conversation along with our situation, and I’m helpless against it, even if I see it for what it is. He’s offering me freedom. “How do you want me?”
He pulls the strap of my dress, then releases it. “You know how.”
I bite my lip. “And when you say you’ll let me go, how do you mean it?”
“However you want me to let you go.”
“I want our marriage dissolved.” I want to be open to another man who will sweep me off my feet and fix what Corrado is breaking.
“I’ll have it annulled. But I have conditions too. Since you have no earthly possessions anymore, you must use the card I gave you to purchase what you need for the next ten years.”
“Ten years?” I screech.
Corrado winces. “Those are my terms.”
“I want to work for Evans.”
Corrado sighs. “You are so stubborn. I told you working for Evans is a deal breaker.”
I pull back my shoulders. “Take it or leave it, Corrado.”
He presses against me. “Careful. You’re getting the false impression that you can tell me what to do. That’s a sure way to end up disappointed. No Evans. I will compensate your salary until you have your own clients. You will live in the Manhattan apartment, and you will let me stay in it when I’m in New York.”
And we’ve cycled back to us. “I told you I can’t be with you anymore.”
“You can, Michela.”
Job. Money. Housing. All in exchange for being his mistress now and however long he wants me. It’s a dream come true for many. But again, nobody besides me will have to deal with the void Corrado will create once he’s done with me. Besides, I want a relationship with a man sometime in the future.
“No apartment. No staying with me. But I’ll take the rest you’re offering for six months.”
“The card for whatever you need for a decade.”
“A year.”
“Decade.”
He won’t give in, and arguing with him tires me out, whereas he’s made for waging wars and conquering lands. I push down the straps of my dress. “Where do you want me?”