“Fuck, it’s been too long since I touched you. Stop squirming, or I’ll end up fucking you against the car door,” Gianni growls in my ear.
The deep timbre of his voice sends goosebumps across my flesh. Some of the fear and anger have receded, yet that doesn’t mean I’m not running away from this psycho the moment he releases me. The car door in front of me opens, and he releases me with a shove, forcing me to crawl across the seats.
My hands slip on the cool leather as I put as much distance as I can between us. I didn't recognize his car parked next to mine. Then again, I wasn’t paying attention. Stupid me. I should’ve known leaving the protective nest of my father’s house that he would track me down. A man like him refuses to let what he wants slip through his fingers, and apparently, I’m what he wants today. Gianni climbs into the backseat casually like he didn’t just abduct me. He smooths a hand through his dark hair, and I swallow around the knot in my throat.
No matter how handsome he is, I must remember that he’s not a knight in shining armor who was sent to rescue me. He’s the villain, only capable of putting his needs before others.
“What is wrong with you?” I demand, my body trembling.
Anger and fear battle it out. I want to punch him in his stupidly gorgeous face and run away. Adrenaline courses through my veins, and I reach behind me, flailing around while trying to find the door handle.
“Child locks,” he grunts. “To keep little girls from jumping out of the car when they shouldn't.”
I wish—God, how I wish—I could hate him. That sitting this close to him didn't set off a fire in my soul. I wish I didn't want to throw myself into his arms and bury my face in his neck and revel in his nearness. Being near him after days without him feels like I just took my first sip of water after going thirsty for days. My soul is refreshed even if my mind recoils with horror.
I find my voice again while straightening out my blouse with shaking hands. “What the hell do you think you are doing? You can’t just show up at my work and force me into your car. There are cameras, and anyone could have seen. Are you trying to get the police called?”
“Do you think this is the first time I’ve grabbed someone and thrown them in the back of my car?” He lets out a chuckle, and I'm glad he does, even if it terrifies me. It helps me harden my heart so I don't make the mistake of begging him to take me back. I need to be strong, and that would be very weak of me. I have to remind myself that he did not tell me the truth about him still being married and might also be my mother’s killer.
“I don’t care how many people you’ve thrown in the back of your car. Whatever you want to say to me can wait till I’m ready to hear it.”
“That’s the problem. I couldn’t wait another second. I had to see you, had to see with my own eyes that you’re okay.” That snide, teasing note calling from his voice is replaced by something that could be mistaken for tenderness.
I know it's not real. It can't be. Nothing about him is real. If it were, he wouldn’t have so casually lied to me about his marriage, making me believe what we had was real.
“I'm fine. I'm back at work, living my life. Thank you for asking.” I jiggle the handle, glaring at him, pressing myself against the door when he moves closer. The heat of his body radiates through me. If he gets any closer, I risk giving in to him, and I can’t have that. “Now let me go. I need to get home..”
He lowers his brow, his eyes like burning embers. I should look away. Only I’d still feel their heat burning if I did. “There’s no running away from us, Caterina. You're not going anywhere until we talk about this,” he rumbles, leaning in close enough that all I can smell is the intoxicating scent of his cologne. Cinnamon and cloves. With him this close, it becomes harder to remember how bad of a man he is, and instead how good he could make me feel.
“See?” With both hands, I shove against his chest as hard as I can, even managing to put a little room between us. Straightening my shoulders, I let the proudness envelop me. His eyes widen with surprise, but it's not enough to keep him from reaching out to place a hand against my knee. I smack his hand away and shake my head. “I have to wonder if you’re crazy or just psycho? What would make you believe that I would allow you to touch me after the bombshell that was revealed? How can I trust you? None of this is real. We’re not real, and showing up at my work and forcing me into the back of your car will not change that.”
Even now, I know I'm lying to myself. Everything about us is real. I just don’t want to admit it right now because I’m angry. I've been duped, made a fool of. Everything I know about him, everything that might be true, it all dissolves when I'm with him. Breathing him in, staring into his eyes which glitter with an intensity I've never seen in anyone else’s. The way he looks at me, there is nothing like it.
I want him to touch me. I want him to be honest with me. I want him to tell me my Dad is wrong. I want him to make everything go away and tell me it’s going to be okay.
Mom. Think of her. Think of the lies and how he made you feel.