CHAPTER 13
Today is Finn’s first birthday. I’m still debating how to push Dante.
My father taught me that the key to manipulating a man was seduction. Perhaps I need to tease him until his true self comes out, and he abuses me in one way or another, like all the men in my life.
I walk downstairs with Finn.
No one has brought up our breakfast, and my stomach growls. I still don’t know how controlled I am here.
I hope Dante’s not around. I don’t think he’s aware of what happened today. He shouldn’t, unless Stefan had told him, and still, why would he remember the birthday of a kid he doesn’t care about?
I sigh. He’s waiting for us at the foot of the stairs, surrounded by presents as if it were Christmas.
“What’s this?”
His smile widens. What the hell?
“Presents for the birthday boy!” he replies, holding out his hand to me. “I know he’s outgrowing the clothes I left for you, so I bought new clothes that won’t fit him properly yet, but when the time comes, he’ll already have some... And many toys.”
He’s a kid. He doesn’t need much stuff from a stranger.
I leave him with his hand outstretched and head for the dining room.
Finn motions for me to get him down. I put him on the floor so he can crawl, but he stands up and walks towards Dante. The latter scoops him up in his arms and, after kissing him on the head, says, “Buon compleanno, cucciolo.”
An unpleasant warmth rises in my chest.
The traitor smiles at me as Finn looks up. My heart skips a beat.
They are identical...
Maybe—
No, it’s impossible.
Stefan said he looked like his grandfather, and there’s no way Dante could have been the one who got me pregnant.
“Come with us.”
I blink, shifting my focus back to them. “How did you know it was today?”
He walks into the living room. There are more presents, and it makes me hate him even more. I wasn’t even able to buy something for his first birthday. He is my son.
He sits on the carpet with Finn facing him, but my son leans forward and decides to settle between the jerk’s legs.
I roll my eyes. This is exactly what I needed. My own son chooses him over me. I was the one who went through labour without anaesthesia! I deserve love today. Not that psycho.
Greta comes out of her room with a package in her hands and approaches them both. Smiling, she says a few words in Italian and hands it to Finn before walking into the kitchen.
Everyone has a gift, except me.
Lovely.
“How—”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on your life,” he interrupts without even looking at me.
I snort. He could have been more observant. It wasn’t enough to leave me alone on our wedding day, but also on the day my son was born? If he knew, the least he could have done was show up. It would have been nice to see a familiar face.
My stomach churns at the memory.
That day, Stefan was on a trip. I had to rely on the guards who were looking after me, and they drove me to a private clinic.
I called my mum, but my father didn’t let her leave the house.
At the time, I still didn’t have Tara’s number.
Mum later gave it to me because Tara wanted to talk after almost four years without hearing from each other.
I spent hours in the hospital, waiting for the epidural to work, but it never did. I cried for them to bring me somebody—anybody—but who? I didn’t have anyone. After a while, I gave up.
To my surprise, a man came into the room and kept me company. His name was Daniel. Between the pain and the sadness, I mistook him for Dante, but he didn’t have his scar, his curl, or the blue eyes I wanted to see. They spoke alike, but nothing else.
I asked him to stay with me, and he did. For a moment, while he held my hand and encouraged me, I believed Dante was with me... But it was just me and Finn.
The guy never showed up again, and I was too worn out to remember the last thing he said. I don’t even remember if I thanked him.
I sit down on the closest couch to them. “Do you think this will make up for the fact that you killed his father?”
He looks at me and smirks. “He can have a better one.”
My jaw drops. I can’t believe he just said that. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to tell Finn that you are.”
For a split second, a flash of pain crosses his face. Guilt washes over me, but I don’t regret what I said. Dante isn’t his father. And if he were, I’d keep him as far away as possible from our lives.
With a heavy sigh, I curl up on the couch. I watch, frowning, as Finn’s face lights up every time he tears open a present. Greta joins us soon after and hands me a bowl of cereal before sitting beside me.
“I made him a knitted sweater,” she says, watching my son with soft eyes. “And a blanket. By any chance… did Dante give them to you?”
I blush, and a lump forms in my throat. All this time I thought it was a nurse’s gift. He didn’t even leave a note.
“I think he did. I found a package in my room shortly after he was born.”
“Do you still have them?”
I shake my head. It’s not the first time I’ve lost one of Greta’s creations. The first was when my father ripped the cardigan she made me, after my first date with Dante. It was beautiful—white, long, and warm.
“My husband threw the jumper away. Dante kidnapped us and left the blanket at home.”
She turns her gaze toward her son. He shrugs, and smirking, he says, “Don’t worry, Mom. “We’ll have more children so you can knit them clothes.”
My heart skips a beat. I kick Dante in the ribs, and all he does is laugh. He still thinks he has a chance with me?
For the rest of the morning, Finn opens boxes of toys, clothes, and books. I don’t want him to accept anything from the traitor, but if I take them away, he’ll start crying, and I don’t want to ruin his day… even if, in a couple of years, he won’t remember.
On one hand, I’m grateful for the presents, since the clothes he has are already too tight, but I hate that I couldn’t go and buy him something myself.
And he dares to say I’m not his prisoner. I can’t even buy my son a present!
I cross my arms and huff. Dante looks up at me, tilts his head, and smiles. I curl up on the sofa, embarrassed. I didn’t think he’d be paying attention to me.
My son and the traitor play with some gifts. A little later, Dante slips his hands under Finn’s arms, lifts him up, and says, “Mom, would you mind taking Finn to the dining room for breakfast?”
Greta approaches Dante with a threatening look on her face. I have to hold back my laughter at the sight. I suppose a mother can scold even a ruthless killer.
They exchange a few words in Italian I can’t understand, and then she takes my son with a reassuring smile. I stand to follow, but Dante steps in my way.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Move.”
“I have a present for you.”
“I don’t want any of your stuff. You’re out of your mind.”
If I’m not making a scene about Greta being alone with my baby, it’s because she explained her situation to me. She’s gained a little more trust; besides, she’s a paediatrician. Still, I don’t allow her to leave the house—or my sight—for more than five minutes.
Dante hands me a bouquet of yellow flowers. My dumb heart quickens, but I keep my arms crossed. I don’t want anything from a man like him.
“And why the flowers?”
“It’s your first year as a mother. You deserve credit. I know it’s been tough.”
The unpleasant warmth rises again. I want to giggle like a fool, but I strangle the impulse and start counting the cons against him:
First, he’s a human trafficker—the same kind of filth that kidnapped me and used me for weeks.
Second, he played me for three months.
Third, he’s a liar.
Fourth, he killed my son’s father and kidnapped us.
Fifth, he sent a message calling me disgusting.
Sixth, he called my husband but never once tried to reach me.
Seventh, he abandoned me.
The warmth fades. I could go on, but I don’t need to.
I can’t and won’t forgive him.
This is wrong. Why can’t I kill the butterflies in my stomach? Why can’t my heart understand that he left us? He’s a fucking trafficker. That alone should be enough to walk away without looking back.
“Thank you, but that’s what Mother’s Day is for.”
“There’s no need to celebrate that day exclusively.”
I toss the bouquet onto the sofa. A few petals fall, and the image makes my heart sink. I’m about to apologise when the voice says, “He crushed your heart, and I’m certain he didn’t stop to think about your pain.”
I push Dante aside to leave. He holds my wrist, tensing his jaw. His dark blue eyes look at my lips, then into my eyes.
I don’t want to be anywhere near him. I’m in love with the man I thought he was, and my heart doesn’t want to understand that.
My willpower isn’t enough to keep me away for long.
Having him this close makes me want to taste his lips, climb on top of him, beg him to take me to his room, and make me forget the last few months. ..
But I don’t want to. I don’t want to forget his last glance; I don’t want to forget my husband’s beating, the day Finn came into the world, or the stories they told me about him. I want to remember every second he left me alone after he promised me the whole world.
He doesn’t deserve forgiveness. It’s all his fault.
“What do you want from me?”
“Whatever you want to give me, ragnetta.” He loosens his grip on my wrist and slides his hand until his fingers touch mine. “But I also want you to be comfortable here, so tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
I narrow my eyes and pull away. “I want to speak to my mother. I need a bloody phone.”
“Fine. Just don’t ask them to rescue you.”
“I don’t even know where we are.”
He holds back a smile. I step even further away from him and cross my arms again. “Anything else?”
“I want to go out. Alone—with Finn.”
“Bodyguards?”
“I don’t want to see them.”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t understand the magnitude of your problem.” He looks at me again. “If you’re spotted alone, you’ll end up in a worse place or with holes in your body. Finn will suffer the same fate.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
“Okay. Bodyguards.” Just for Finn’s sake. “Do I have to live here?”
“I can build you a house next door, but it’ll take time.”
For the love of God!
“Can I not live near you?”
He narrows his eyes, smirking. “I’d rather not.”
“Will I have to stay here all my life? Like a prisoner? Are you kidding?”
“You still don’t understand what kind of world you live in.”
I raise my eyebrows. Is he calling me dumb? “I get it. And I also understand that I’m kidnapped!”
“I’m protecting you both. I don’t care if you see it as a fucking kidnapping. It is for. Your. Sake.”
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Dante.” A soft smile creeps across his face. His eyes beam. Has he lost his mind? “What?”
“This is the first time you’ve called me by my name since you arrived.” He tilts his head to the side, his gaze softening. “Ripetilo.”13
My chest clenches. “I don’t have time to deal with you.”
I push him away, but again he holds my arm and draws me to him. My heart pounds. We’re only inches apart. If I raise my head, even a little, I’ll meet his lips.
Don’t!
“Your beloved husband was planning something that ended in a plot against him,” he whispers. “Dangerous men, including me, were aware of the situation. If I had not arrived when I did, you and Finn would both be dead or sold to disgusting bastards by now.”
“I told you. If you stay mad at me for killing him and kidnapping you, go ahead. But once you understand why I’m doing this, you’ll thank me, and you’ll regret being so stubborn.”
My jaw tightens. How could he say that to me?
“Maybe it would have been better than being with someone like you. You’re crazy!”
The words are out of my mouth before I can think about them. I know it’s not better. I’ve lived it... though he doesn’t know it.
He brushes a strand of hair away from my face.
Placing a hand under my chin, he pushes up. His lips are only inches from mine. His smell is driving me crazy. “You know better than that. Your fear is for that very reason.”
No...
This isn’t the first time he’s mentioned it. He never brought it up when we were dating, not even when I had my panic attacks; he didn’t even suggest it. Now that I’m here, and I can’t get away from his claws, his facade is fading.
“You always knew what they did to me,” I whisper.
“Yes, I met you there.”
That is enough to crush what’s left of my heart. If he met me there, it could only mean one thing.
“Were you there? With them?”
“No.” He frowns. “I would never do that.”
I don’t believe him. Maybe he was the one in charge of dealing with Alba’s son, and I fucked up his job. I can’t remember their faces. It’s all a blur. I only remember what they did.
Is he lying? He used me before, and it wasn’t enough?
A lump forms in my throat. I can’t cry in front of him. I can’t cry about it again. It was so many years ago. I was over it... Thanks to him.
I must not break. I can’t break. He can’t break me.
“Ho-how did you know, then?” My voice cracks. “My father made sure no—that no one found out. I didn’t tell you why I cried or why I had nightmares. There is no way—”
He is one of them, you fool!
“Someone had to come to your rescue, ragnetta.” His gaze softens. “And that someone was me.”
Notes:
13. Repeat it.