Chapter 7 I Promise You’re Safe
I Promise You’re Safe
I saw a girl with blonde hair today and, for a second, I thought it was you. I wish it was. —Enzo
Enzo
Izzy’s voice trembles as she speaks. “He drugged me. I couldn’t speak properly, or move my limbs to fight, but I felt all of it. It was like I was paralyzed, trapped in my own mind.
“Three other men joined us. They tied me down. They…” Izzy takes a deep breath then steels her expression. “They raped me. Beat me. Until I was almost dead. Then they dumped me, leaving me to die outside in the cold.”
A storm of emotions takes flight inside me, but the most prominent one is rage. My fists clench hard; my jaw tightens to the point it feels like I might break it.
“Did you recognize them? The other men?”
“Only one,” she whispers, looking down at her lap.
I lift her chin up with my fingers so she’s looking at me. “Cuore mio,” my voice cracks, “how can I make it better?”
She tries to pull away, but I keep her eyes locked on mine. “I just want to forget,” she murmurs, her voice so small and full of pain.
I swallow hard, nodding my head. “Okay. Okay.”
Inside, I’m thinking about how I can make that fucker and his friends pay.
Lucas Dalaney has no idea what’s coming for him.
I spend the rest of the morning fussing over Izzy while I wait for Doc to get here. She looks so fragile, hooked up to all the machines, with a sadness in her eyes that never used to be there.
Not wanting to overload her, I make some soup for lunch, which she eats about half of.
I have questions about the phone call she made, but I’m nervous to push her. She could pull away from me so easily.
When Doc knocks on the bedroom door and pokes his head in, his relief is obvious when he sees Izzy awake and smiling at something I said.
That is, until she notices him and her whole body starts trembling like a leaf. Her smile disappears, only to be replaced by absolute terror.
“Izzy,” I start, keeping my voice low, soothing, “this is Doc. He just wants to check you over and see if you’re ready to be unhooked from all the monitors.”
She shakes her head, sucking in air in shallow breaths.
I motion with my head for Doc to leave, which he does immediately.
The tension in Izzy dissipates as soon as the door closes behind him.
Slowly, carefully, I step closer to her, crouching down to her level and resting my elbows on the bed.
“You need to let him look at you, Cuore mio.”
Her eyes are glassy when she looks at me.
“I know.” She blows out a breath. “It’s just… I’m scared.” She fiddles with the blankets.
I take her hands in mine, rubbing soothing circles with my thumbs. “No one will ever hurt you when I’m around. I swear it.”
Izzy takes a shuddered breath in and out before determination schools her features. “Okay.”
I wait a moment, searching for any lingering hesitation, before nodding. “Okay.”
Stepping towards the door, Doc’s waiting on the other side when I open it. There’s no impatience, just a kind, weathered smile.
I step out of the way, letting him pass into the room and he cautiously moves towards Izzy.
“Hi, Isolde,” he says, eyes crinkling in the corners. “How are you today?”
She looks up at me with wide eyes and I immediately come to stand beside her, taking her hand in what I hope is a reassuring gesture.
She turns back to Doc. “Hi,” she whispers shyly. “I’m… I don’t know what I am.”
Doc remains completely professional. “That’s understandable. Any physical pain?”
She shakes her head then winces. “I’m a little sore.”
“Sore where?”
She squirms uncomfortably.
Doc chuckles quietly. “Okay. I get you. Anywhere else?”
She relaxes visibly, shoulders dropping some more of the tension in her body.
“I just ache all over.”
Doc nods his head. “Well, your bruising is healing well, it should be gone completely in a couple of weeks. You have some cracked ribs, but those should heal quickly with rest.”
He mentally ticks off his list of things he needs to say to her as he goes through her injuries, detailing the recovery period.
“This is probably the last thing on your mind, but I’ll say it anyway.
” He hesitates. “With the stitches, they will dissolve on their own, but you should avoid any sexual intercourse for the next two to three weeks to avoid pain or tearing.”
Izzy’s cheeks turn pink. Her mouth opens and closes for a moment, eyes flicking subtly to mine before she shakes her head. “That’s definitely not an issue.”
Doc runs through some more aftercare instructions, unhooks Iz from the monitors, and then he’s gone. He gives me a pointed look on his way out, one that says, “Look after her.”
Once it’s just the two of us—Izzy and me—I help her sit up from the pillows for the first time. She groans, her muscles unused to the movement after two weeks of lying in bed recovering.
“Can I have a shower?” she asks, sniffling slightly.
“Anything you want,” I reply, kissing her forehead gently.
She slowly swings her legs off the bed and moves to stand but her knees buckle as she does. I swoop an arm around her, keeping her upright.
She huffs out a breath.
“Maybe a bath instead?” I ask.
She nods.
“Stay here. I’ll get it ready.”
“You don’t—“
I cut her off. “Let me take care of you, Cuore mio.”
She lets me put her back onto the bed, then I head to the master bath. I never use the large clawfoot tub, but right now I’m grateful for it.
Running the water hot, I search for something to use as bubbles. An old bottle of bubble bath and some Epsom salt in my cabinet will have to do.
I set up candles around the room, and dip the lights to a low, soothing level. Just light enough to see.
When I get back to Izzy, her eyelids are drooping.
“Still want a bath?” I check.
She bobs her head, a small smile on her lips.
I scoop her up into my arms without thinking. She freezes, body going rigid and I curse myself. But then, she relaxes, snuggling into my chest and resting her head on my shoulder as her arms come round my neck. She winces as she does.
Carrying her into the bathroom I kick the door closed with my foot then gently place her down onto the counter.
“You want me to stay or go?”
She sucks in a breath, then says, “Will you stay?”
“Of course.”
I’d do anything she asked of me.
“Can you turn around until I’m in the bath?”
I don’t answer, just turn to face the door.
There’s some shuffling, the sound of splashing water. Then—
“Okay, you can turn back now.”
She’s got the bubbles covering her, but that doesn’t stop my brain from filling in the gaps.
I know what she looks like naked now, from tending to her these past few weeks.
Know the way her breasts are barely a handful, but perfect for squeezing.
That her nipples are dark and dusty in color.
Know that her hips flare out from her tiny waist seductively.
Know that her pussy has only a light smatter of hair.
I shouldn’t know that.
It shouldn’t be imprinted in my brain.
But it is.
I force myself to breathe past the arousal flooding my system.
She doesn’t need me getting hard over her when she’s just recovering from her piece of shit husband and his friends.
Christ, I’m a dick.
Izzy lets out a small sigh as she leans back against the tub and I swear my cock actually twitches at the sound.
Fuck. I grit my teeth, realizing what a terrible idea this was.
“Do you remember the time my dad caught you sneaking into my bedroom?” Izzy asks suddenly, smiling wistfully.
I huff a laugh, remember just that. “Fuck, I’d never been more scared of anything.”
She grins at me. “He was so angry.”
I shake my head at her. “Didn’t stop me from doing it again the next night.”
Her laugh lights up her entire face. It’s so beautiful it hurts.
But then her smile fades, a cloud forming over her head.
“I wish we could go back,” she whispers weakly. “Things were so much simpler.”
“Speaking of simple…” I start.
Izzy looks at me expectantly.
“What was the phone call about?”
She sighs, tilting her head back. “I’ve been wondering when you’d ask about that.”
“Tell me,” I coax, moving to kneel by her head.
Her eyes lock onto mine. “I can’t tell you much.” I open my mouth in protest, but she cuts me off. “I want to. Trust me I’d love to tell you everything. But I can’t. It’s not just my life that rests on this.”
My eyebrows pull together, wondering what on earth she’s involved in.
“All I can tell you, is that I had ulterior motives for marrying,” she swallows hard, eyes glazing over, “him.”
“What reasons?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t Enzo.”
She pleads with me with me without words, her expression turning desperate.
My hand scrubs over my beard. “Fine, but I’m not going to settle for this none-answer forever, Izzy.”
She nods, knowing I mean it.
Izzy’s head swivels around, searching for something.
“What is it?”
She nibbles on her lip. “Do you have any shampoo?”
Standing, I reach into my walk-in shower, grabbing a bottle of shampoo and conditioner. Izzy’s arm extends to take them from me, but then she winces in pain.
It guts me, seeing that look on her face.
“Let me help you, Cuore mio.”
She swallows. “Okay.”
I squirt some shampoo into my palm. “Can I touch you?” I ask, then groan, hating myself. “Your head, I mean. Can you wash your hair? I won’t do anything—”
She giggles at the way my words tumble over one another. “You may.”
My fingers massage her scalp as I lather the soap through her hair. Then, I rinse using the extendable hose. I put the conditioner only on her ends after she scolds me for trying to repeat the process.
After helping Izzy out and passing her a towel, I leave her to get changed into one of my shirts.
My phone vibrates in my pocket just as the elevator doors open.
“I’m so sorry!” Henry pants down the phone. “I tried to stop—”
I hang up the phone as Dante appears in front of me.
He has a key, but Henry has been charged with not letting anyone up until I give him the go ahead. If he wasn’t one of my best employees, he’d be fired immediately.
“So you are alive,” Dante teases, coming to slap a hand on my back. “We’ve been placing bets, wondering if you’d finally decided to give it all up and go live in England with your little friends.”
I growl at him, “Still here, asshole.”
He scans my appearance: bushy beard, sweatpants, tired eyes. “You look like shit.”
His graze tracks to something behind me, and I don’t have to turn around to know what—or who—he’s looking at.
“Huh, so this is what you’ve been doing?”
I go to berate him, but I turn my head in time to see Izzy. She’s in nothing but a plain white shirt of mine, with the sleeves rolled up. My cock stirs once more with some primal level possessiveness.
But then I see her face. The pain, the fear.
Dante forgotten, I’m at her side in two strides, picking her up and hugging her to my chest, whispering soothing words in her ear.
My hand runs over her hair as she sobs into my shoulder.
“It’s okay Iz,” I whisper to her. “He’s a friend, he won’t hurt you.” Her trembling lessens. “I promise you’re safe.”
She clings to me like I’m her lifeline and I must be the biggest asshole in the world because goddamn I love that she needs me.
Remembering Dante, I turn back to him, holding Izzy close to me and keeping my hand over her so she stays covered. “Dante, get the fuck out of here. Do not breathe a word of her existence to anyone.”
His expression turns serious as he nods, then steps back to the elevator.
Knowing I can trust him, I carry Izzy back through the apartment, but instead of taking her to the guest room I go straight for my own, laying her down gently onto my bed.
She curls up in a ball, making herself small, her face burrowed into the bed.
I run to the guest room, grabbing the hair dryer, then make my way back to her, finding her in the same position.
Plugging in the dryer, I force her upright. She sits numbly while I dry her hair, running my fingers through the knots. After, I brush her waves with a comb—it's not perfect, I'm sure it's not how she would do it, but it's something.
Once I'm done, she retreats to her fetal position.
I sit next to her. I don’t do anything else. Just sit.
And wait.