Caterina
“Hmm?” I still don’t have his full attention. Is this a test? I hate that I even have to ask myself that. Here I am, playing chess again, weighing every choice, every word.
“Did I get fired, and nobody told me? Because things seemed fine when I left the office today.”
Finally, he looks at me—and he even rolls his eyes. He has the nerve to do that. “Don’t play dumb.”
My teeth are going to break if I have to grind them any harder. “Who’s playing? I’m in the dark here.”
With a sigh, he sets the laptop aside. “You aren’t going anywhere,” he informs me, speaking slowly like he would speak to a child. “You’re here, with me, and that’s it. I’ll give you everything you want on the condition you stay here. That’s a fair exchange, I think.”
I’m glad he does. I sure as hell don’t. “You want me to quit my job? I just started.”
“You don’t have to work. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“But I want to.”
“You want to sit in a cubicle and stare at spreadsheets all day? Is that your big plan for your life?”
It’s better than sitting around the house all day. I practically have to bite my tongue off to keep from saying it. I don’t think he would take it very well if I did.
“I’m not sure what the plan is yet, but I know I worked really hard for four years to get that job, and it’s a great company. I don’t want to throw it away.”
“It’s nothing. Small-time bullshit.”
It’s so funny when I think back on how unimpressed I was at first with my job and everything that came with it. Now, facing down the possibility of having to leave, anger and pride swell in my chest and make me want to fight like hell. “It matters to me. Doesn’t that count?”
“I don’t want you leaving the house. End of story.”
So that’s what this is all about. I should’ve known. “You want me to be your prisoner? That’s what you’re saying.”
“It’s not that dramatic.”
“It is for me. I can’t be a prisoner here for the rest of my life. I need to go out in the world.” Because my throat is so dry, I grab one of the water bottles and take a deep gulp. It isn’t easy to keep my hand from shaking and spilling all over the place.
“How can I trust you? You throw it in my face that you want to turn your back on everything I’m offering, and you expect me to trust you to come home tomorrow after work?”
That’s just it. The more he talks, the better I understand his thought process, and the more determined I am to never step foot in this house again after I leave. Already, there’s a plan taking shape in the back of my mind. I’ll pack my things before going to the office, and I’ll have Tatiana bring them to me after she gets home. Otherwise, I’ll carry my necessities with me to work. I’ll sign the lease, and then I’ll go to Dad’s and work everything out from there.
“Well?” Gianni lifts an eyebrow. “What am I supposed to do here?”
“You really want me to stay here with you?” I grab one of the protein bars, hoping it will settle my stomach, which is now doing backflips. And not in an exciting kind of way.
“That’s just the way it has to be. Don’t you see? This is where you belong.”
It makes me want to scream how matter-of-fact he can be, even when he’s saying the craziest things. “But don’t you want me to be happy?”
“You would be. If you would let me make you happy.”
“I’ll never be happy unless I have some freedom—you can roll your eyes all you want,” I add when he does just that. “That’s not going to change. And I don’t think you would like it if you found out somebody was forcing Tatiana into doing what they wanted.”
“Do not throw my daughter in my face,” he growls.
“I only want you to understand what I’m thinking. Please, let me make some of my own choices. Give me the freedom to come and go. And you’ll just have to trust me.” The words threaten to stick in my throat, but I force them out.
He’s fighting with himself, scowling, his jaw going tight. I have to fight off the impulse to beg and plead. That will not get me anywhere.
“I want you home immediately after work. No excuses.”
“I promise,” I lie. My heart’s hammering, and I’m sure he’ll be able to see my thoughts written on my face, but it doesn’t seem that way. He’s pretty calm and even-tempered. The complete opposite of the way he was earlier. I wish I hadn’t made it so easy for him to get what he wanted, but it’s like I can’t resist him. And that’s why I have to get away for good, because when we’re together, there is no denying how I crave him.
“Fair enough. But stay with me,” he adds as he stretches out, welcoming—demanding—me with his open arms. “You’re sleeping here.”
I’m almost too happy to agree. I did it. I faced off with him, and I came out on top. How many people have been able to say that?
I wish it didn’t feel so good to lie in his strong arms.
I wish it didn’t hurt so much to imagine never doing it again.