Chapter 97

Chapter 97
Cindy's POV

I practically floated back to my room, my lips still tingling from John's kiss. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might burst right out of my chest. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still feel his hands on my back, still taste him on my lips, still feel the way his body had pressed against mine by the pool.
I couldn't stop smiling. Even when I tried to make my face serious, the corners of my mouth kept turning up on their own. It was like happiness was bubbling up inside me, threatening to spill over.
The truth about what happened to him, about why he didn't come for me sooner, had lifted this huge weight off my shoulders. All this time, I'd been carrying around this anger, this feeling of being abandoned. But he hadn't abandoned me at all. He'd been fighting for his life, then fighting to remember who he was.
Those scars on his chest... God, the pain he must have gone through. And the second he remembered me, he came looking. The second he remembered what I meant to him, he started moving heaven and earth to find me.
I touched my lips, remembering the desperate way he'd kissed me. Like he was trying to pour months of missing me into that one perfect moment. The way his hands had felt on my skin, the way he'd whispered my name...
A giggle escaped me, and I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to contain it. But it was no use. I felt giddy, like a teenager with her first crush.
There was a soft knock on my door, and Maria peeked her head in.
"Cindy? Are you alright, dear? You look..." She paused, studying my face with those kind, knowing eyes. "You look different. Happy."
I felt heat rush to my cheeks. Could she tell? Could she see that everything had changed between John and me?
"I'm fine," I said quickly, but I couldn't stop smiling. "Just had a good morning. Very... refreshing."
Maria stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Her expression was gentle but curious.
"A good morning, hmm?" she said, and there was something in her voice that made me think she knew exactly what kind of "morning" I'd been having. "Well, whatever happened, it's good to see you looking so bright. You've been carrying such sadness in your eyes."
I sat down on my bed, trying to compose myself, but my reflection in the mirror across the room showed a girl who looked completely transformed. My eyes were sparkling, my cheeks were flushed, and I couldn't seem to wipe the smile off my face.
"Maria," I said carefully, "can I ask you something?"
"Of course, dear."
"John told me everything this morning. About what happened to him in Italy, about losing his memories, about the scars..." My voice trailed off as I remembered the pain in his eyes when he'd shown me his chest.
Maria's face softened with understanding. "He did? And you listened?"
I nodded, feeling tears prick at my eyes. "I was so tired of fighting, Maria. Tired of being angry all the time. But I had no idea he suffered so much. If I'd known... I wouldn't have made things so hard for him."
Maria sat down beside me on the bed, her expression gentle.
"Oh, sweet girl," she said quietly. "He never wanted you to know how bad it was. He's been carrying so much guilt since he remembered everything - guilt about not being able to protect you sooner, about what you went through while he was fighting just to survive. I think... I think seeing you happy and knowing you understand might be exactly what he needs to start healing too."
I felt my heart clench with emotion. All this time, I'd been so focused on my own pain that I hadn't really considered his. He'd been tortured, had lost himself completely, and then had to live with the knowledge of what happened to me while he was gone.
"I already apologized to him this morning," I said quietly, feeling the memory of our conversation by the pool. "He told me everything, and I realized how wrong I'd been to blame him for what happened."
Maria nodded knowingly. "Good. He needed to hear that from you. But more importantly, you both needed to clear the air between you."
She smiled warmly and patted my hand. "Love has a way of healing old wounds, doesn't it?"
Love. The word made my stomach flip. Was that what this was? This overwhelming feeling, this need to be near him, this way my whole world seemed brighter when he looked at me?
After Maria left to go shopping with Bianca, I found myself pacing my room, unable to sit still. Every few minutes, I'd catch myself touching my lips or running my fingers through my hair where his hands had been.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I nearly jumped out of my skin when there was a soft knock on my door. My heart started racing before I even opened it, somehow knowing who it would be.
John stood in the hallway, looking like he'd been having the same trouble sitting still that I had. His hair was slightly messy, like he'd been running his hands through it, and there was something in his eyes that made my knees weak.
"Can I come in?" he asked quietly, glancing down the hallway to make sure we were alone.
I stepped aside to let him in, and the moment he was in my room with the door closed behind him, the air between us became electric again. We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, both of us remembering what had happened by the pool.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he said softly, taking a step closer.
"Me neither," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He reached out and touched my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone with such gentleness it made my heart ache.
"Are you okay?" he asked. "With everything I told you? With what happened between us?"
Instead of answering with words, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him again. This kiss was softer than the one by the pool, but no less intense. It was full of all the things I couldn't say, all the feelings I was still trying to understand.
When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine, both of us breathing heavily.
"We should talk," he said, though his hands were still holding my face like he couldn't bear to let me go.
"About what?" I asked, though I thought I knew.
"About us. About what happens next." He pulled back slightly so he could look into my eyes. "I want to take you home, Cindy. Back to your family."
The mention of my family sent a chill through me, and I felt all the happiness drain out of my face. John noticed immediately.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice full of concern.
I walked over to the window, wrapping my arms around myself. The thought of going home filled me with a fear I didn't want to examine too closely.
"What if they don't want me back?" I said quietly, voicing the fear that had been eating at me for months. "What if there's a reason they let me get taken in the first place?"
I felt John move behind me, felt the warmth of his body even though he wasn't touching me.
"What do you mean?" he asked gently.
I turned to face him, and I could feel tears starting to gather in my eyes.
"I keep thinking about that night," I said. "How easy it was for Big Jim's men to get to me. How no one seemed to be looking for me afterward. What if... what if my family was relieved I was gone? What if I was just a burden they were happy to be rid of?"
The words came out in a rush, all the poisonous thoughts I'd been carrying around for so long finally spilling out.
"What if they sold me?" I whispered, the worst fear of all finally spoken aloud. "What if they sold me to cover the debt, and those calls were just a sham?"
John's face went through several emotions - shock, anger, and then something fierce and protective.
"Cindy, no," he said firmly, crossing the room to take my hands in his. "That's not what happened. Your family loves you."
"How do you know?" I asked, tears starting to fall down my cheeks. "You don't know them. You don't know what kind of people they are. They stopped calling me that night, and they were the only ones I told about my location. why was I taken the same day I told them?"
"I know what kind of person you are," he said, his voice intense. "Good people don't just appear out of nowhere. You were raised by people who loved you, who taught you to be kind and strong and beautiful inside and out."
He pulled me closer, his hands moving to frame my face.
"And I'm going to find out exactly what happened," he promised. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this whole thing. But I know, in my heart, that your family is missing you just as much as you're missing them."
"What if you're wrong?" I whispered.
"Then we'll figure it out together," he said simply. "But I won't let you face it alone. Not ever again."
The conviction in his voice made something tight in my chest start to loosen. For so long, I'd been carrying these fears by myself, letting them poison my thoughts and steal my hope.
"There's something else," John said, his expression growing serious. "I need you to understand that I'm going to be very protective of you from now on. Especially around Big Jim."
"What do you mean?"
John's jaw tightened, and I saw that dangerous look flicker in his eyes.
"You know he's my father," he said quietly, his voice hard with disgust. "But he's not family, not in any way that matters. He's obsessed with money, with power. He doesn't care who he hurts to get what he wants."
I felt cold suddenly, understanding dawning on me.
"You think he's not done with me," I said.
"I think he sees you as an asset," John said bluntly. "He knows how I feel about you, and men like him... they use the things people care about as weapons."
His expression grew darker, more troubled.
"You made so much money for him while I was gone," he continued, his voice tight with anger. "The fact that he's letting you go so easily... it's fishy. Men like Big Jim don't just give up their most profitable investments without a reason."
The reminder of those months working at the club made my stomach clench with shame and fear. I'd tried so hard to push those memories away, but hearing John acknowledge what I'd been forced to do...
"I won't let him hurt you," John said fiercely, seeing the pain flash across my face. "Not again. Never again."
The thought terrified me, but having John say it out loud somehow made it less scary. At least now I knew what we were dealing with.
"That's why we need to be careful," he continued. "That's why we need to be discreet about this," he gestured between us, "until I can get you somewhere safe."
"And where would that be?"
"Home," he said simply. "With your family, where you belong. Where I can make sure you're protected."
I looked into his eyes, seeing the determination there, the promise of protection and care. For the first time in months, I felt like maybe everything really would be okay.
"What about you?" I asked. "What about us?"
A slow smile spread across his face, the first real smile I'd seen from him since I'd known him.
"Us," he said, moving closer until I could feel the heat of his body, "is just beginning."
He kissed me again, soft and sweet and full of promise. When he pulled away, his eyes were dark with desire, but there was something else there too. Something that looked like the beginning of love.
"I'm going to court you properly," he said, running his thumb across my bottom lip. "I'm going to take you on dates, buy you flowers, treat you like the queen you are."
"Even though we have to be discreet?"
"Especially because we have to be discreet," he said with a grin that made my heart flutter. "Do you know how romantic secret courtships can be?"
I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in months. "Is that what this is? A secret courtship?"
"For now," he said, his expression growing serious again. "But not forever. When you're safe, when you're home with your family, when Big Jim can't use you against me anymore... then I'm going to shout from the rooftops that you're mine."
The possessiveness in his voice made heat pool low in my belly. The way he looked at me, like I was something precious and dangerous and utterly his, made me feel powerful and desired in a way I'd never experienced before.
"I like the sound of that," I whispered.
"Good," he said, leaning down to press his forehead against mine again. "Because I'm not letting you go again. Not ever."
We spent the rest of the afternoon talking quietly, sharing stories about our childhood memories together, about the dreams we'd had before everything went wrong. John told me about his plans for the future, about how he wanted to build something better than what Big Jim had created. I told him about my hopes for going home, about the small moments I missed most about my old life.
As the sun started to set, painting my room in golden light, I realized that for the first time since this nightmare began, I actually had hope for the future. Not just hope for survival, but hope for happiness. Hope for love.
John was right. This was just the beginning.