My hand slid down his arm as he left, and even though his expression was still cold, he gave my hand a quick squeeze before leaving me alone, so brief, I wondered if I'd only imagined it. The bedroom door shut quietly behind him. For a long time after he left, I just stood there in the middle of the bathroom, wondering what the hell was happening between us. We'd marked each other deeply last night, and not just physically. And I knew I wasn't the only one who felt it.
Straightening my spine and taking a deep breath, I combed out my wet hair and stuck it up on top of my head in a messy bun. Or at least it would be when it dried. Then I finished in the bathroom and got dressed. As I passed by the closet door, I stopped and looked inside at the things I'd hung up earlier. Nothing from "Nicole" was there. Just the things I liked to wear, few as they were. It was all summer stuff, and I wondered if now that the gig was up, if he'd let me get the rest of my things from my apartment. Or better yet, let me go home. Eventually. I held onto hope that I could talk him into it. I needed some space. To be my myself, away from his overpowering presence. If I still had a home to go home to and hadn't been evicted by now.
There was only one way to find out. Pulling the blankets up on the bed, I went to go get some coffee and find Luca.
As I traipsed through the house, I had a feeling of familiarity. Of comfort. But I shook it off. This beautiful house was not my home. It was a cage, albeit one where the caretakers were all pretty nice for the most part. But still a cage.
The door to his office was closed when I got there a few minutes later. Switching my coffee to my right hand, I knocked.
"Come in."
I cracked the door and stuck my head inside. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"
Luca held up his finger to tell me to give him a moment and then waved me inside. I stepped into the office and closed the door.
Cell phone to his ear, his eyes took in my hair piled on top of my head, then took a slow, leisurely walk down my body, hesitating on my bare feet before climbing back up to my face. I couldn't read his expression when he got there, but if he didn't like the way I dressed…well, that was too fucking bad.
"Tell my father I'll see him tomorrow. And thanks for taking care of this for me, Frank."
My skin crawled at the name. "Frank" was the name of one of Mario's henchmen. But surely it couldn't be the same man? It was a popular name, after all.
Taking the cell away from his ear, he tapped the screen and set it face down on his desk. "Come sit down, Veda."
I chose one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. It was chilly in his office, or maybe it was just the vibe in the air that made me shiver. The hotblooded man of the night before was nowhere to be found this morning, along with the man who had so gently tended to me not an hour before, and in his place was someone with ice running through his veins. The man who'd had his thugs steal me from my sister's apartment and bring me here. The man who'd wrapped his hands around my throat and cut off the air from my lungs when I dared to strike him. I stared at him across the wide expanse of his desk, feeling oddly comforted by the personality switch. This man, I knew. This man, I could deal with.
I set my cup down on his desk, crossed my legs and arms and returned his stare, waiting for him to speak.
He seemed to have something on his mind, but then he shifted in his chair, turning it sideways, and crossed one ankle over his knee. Turning his head to stare out the window, he asked, "Now that you're home and have come back to the land of the living, I feel it's necessary to remind you of the rules for your situation."
"I'm sorry?" I asked, pretty sure I hadn't heard him correctly.
He turned his chair around so he faced me, leaning into the high back. He looked exactly like the mafia lord he was. Like something out of a movie.
Oozing danger and sex appeal that my body immediately responded to. "Is this something we need to go over again?" he asked.
It took me a second to get over the shock. "I don't want to live here. I want to go home to my apartment."
He sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers like just my presence in his office was already giving him a headache. "I told you last night, that's not possible."
"Why not? You don't need me anymore, and the only thing I want is to get as far away from all of this"-I threw my arms around, encompassing him, his office, the entire house, and all of the shit that'd come with it-"as humanly possible."
"Because you know too much now, Veda," he told me. And I could tell by his tone that he was barely holding on to his patience. "That hasn't changed. Your life will be in constant danger. My enemies will hunt you like an animal and use whatever means they have to get information out of you."
I didn't know what the hell I'd done between last night and this morning, but something had shifted with him. With us. "I wouldn't tell them anything."
"Yes," he said. "You would." I started to shake my head, and he leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on the desk and spearing me with blue eyes suddenly dark with something I couldn't identify. "Have you ever had your teeth pulled out of your skull with nothing to stop you from feeling them being ripped from your gums? Had your fingernails removed slowly one by one by a pair of rusty pliers? Have you ever had your bones broken? Because that's what they would do to you. And if that didn't work, they'd start peeling your skin away until you were nothing but a mass of bloody muscle-covered bones. They'd hold your head beneath water, until you stopped struggling and were sure you were about to drown. They would rape you, Veda. And they wouldn't give a fuck if you were only half alive when they did it."
He stopped. His chest rising and falling and that muscle in his jaw ticking as he visibly tried to get himself back under control. "These are the types of men I deal with on a daily basis, and those are my friends. My enemies are even worse." He sat back in his chair again. "I know you think you've been through some shit since you've met me. But you haven't. Do you still think you wouldn't confess everything you know? Beg them to kill you? If for no other reason than to stop the pain?"
My stomach rolled and clenched, and I fought to keep down the bile rising up my throat, grateful I hadn't eaten anything yet. I didn't answer his question, because he was right. I didn't know if I was strong enough not to spill my guts before they did. "I'll leave town. Get a new name. Color my hair…"
"No!" He seemed as startled as I was by his outburst. "No," he said, calmer now. "You're not coloring your hair again. And you're not running away. You're staying here with me."
"Why?" I demanded loudly as I uncrossed my legs and threw my hands up in the air. "Why not? The game is over, Luca. You have no reason to keep my here anymore. Dammit, I don't want to be here!"
He was out of his chair and around his desk before I had a chance to react. Bracing a hand on each arm of my chair, he leaned down until we were face to face. "You will stay here because the only way I can guarantee your safety is if you're with me. And I'm not sending you out there"-he looked out the door of his office with a jerk of his chin-"to be tortured and killed. Here, with me, is the only place you are safe."
But he was wrong. So very wrong. Being with him might keep me alive, but it was by no means safe. Not for either of us.