Gianni
Come on. Make the right choice. Give me the go-ahead.
This is a big step. I wish there was a way to make her understand what it means for me to leave this in her hands.
Control is my thing. Before I met her, it was the one sure thing that would always get me off. Knowing I called the shots, that I held lives in my hand. Everything happens according to my schedule—when I’m damn good and ready.
Then along comes this girl, and everything I thought I knew about myself went out the window the moment I stopped thinking of her as a child and saw her as the woman she is. It’s times like this, sitting on the edge of the bed and waiting with bated breath for her to make up her mind, that I almost wish we’d never met.
But that would be a mistake, like cutting off my nose to spite my face.
In the end, this is for her sake. A small sacrifice on my part, so she’ll feel like she has the room to make choices for herself. I know how important that is to her. And if it means making sure she doesn’t get it into her head to run off again, it’s worth swallowing my pride and risking sparing that murderous motherfucker’s life.
He sped up. The son of a bitch sped up, probably once he saw her crossing the street. He sped up because he wanted to kill her.
My Caterina, my little bird, a woman he never knew even over the course of five years. He never learned the first thing about her, or else he would never have wasted the chance to love her.
I’ll give her credit. She gives it real thought, her brow wrinkling, teeth digging into her lip. That she’s even thinking about it tells me I haven’t imagined the darkness lurking inside her. She has a gentle soul, but somewhere in there is a streak of darkness. There has to be. Why else would she be so drawn to me even when she knows the man I truly am?
“Part of me wants to see him dead,” she admits, using her free hand to pick at the duvet. “Does that make me a bad person?”
“Are you really asking me that? Because you know what I’m going to say.”
Her lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile that never quite forms. “I know. But that’s what I have to ask myself.”
“You’re human, and you just found out your ex tried to run you over. I would have to wonder if you were telling the truth if you said you didn’t think about spitting on his grave for at least a second.”
“Oh, I was going to do that. I just figured it would be years from now.” My brave girl tries again to smile, but she doesn’t quite get there.
“What you’re telling me is I should leave him alive.”
“Not because I care about him,” she insists, squeezing my hand tight enough to grind my knuckles together. “You have to know that. I don’t want you getting the wrong idea. I just don’t want it on my conscience, you know?”
“I understand.” I don’t want it on her conscience, either. She doesn’t need that. I’m the one already damned after all the things I’ve done. I wouldn’t put her through that because we aren’t the same. Her pure soul might have a dark streak, but mine is entirely dark—if it still exists at all, something I questioned more than once over the years.
If anything, she’s proven to me I do have a soul, and it belongs to her.
“Are you disappointed?”
The innocence behind that question makes me chuckle before I can hold back. Her brows draw together in pain, and I raise her hand to my lips to press a kiss against it. “I don’t mean to laugh at you. That question makes me sound like a psycho.”
“That’s not what I think of you.”
I have to wonder. I haven’t done much to prove otherwise.
“But are you, though? I know you want to get back at him. But don’t do that for my sake, please.”
“Are you that concerned? You don’t have to be.”
“It’s just…” She sighs, looking toward the window. It’s late afternoon on a hot summer day, and there’s a haze hanging over the grounds. “It’s really beautiful out there, isn’t it?”
The abrupt change of subject makes me follow the direction of her gaze. “It is. I’ve always thought so.”
“You worked really hard to put everything in place, didn’t you? The house, everything.”
“It took a lot of work and a lot of oversight. When I bought it, this was nothing but a plot of land surrounding an old house. A few small outbuildings and a lot of weeds.”
“What put it in your mind? Your vision, I mean. Where did it come from?”
Why is she asking these questions? “You need to get some sleep.”
She only clutches my hand tighter, swinging her head from side to side. “No, I’m serious. Where did it all come from? I really want to know.”