Page 94 of He Should Be Mine

I put my hands on my hips. “You can’t possibly know that I don’t. Rick said to bring me to his country house on Sunday. He didn’t say for how long. Or what for.”

Dario’s dark eyes flash as his face sets into a glower. He is worried. For me. And the thrill of that is making me feel tingly all over. Whatever he feels about me now, he still cares for my safety.

His gaze sweeps over my luggage one more time, then it returns to me. I stare back at him while my stomach churns and I try to peer into his soul.

Does he hate me now?

It is an answer I have been seeking for days now, but every time I search his eyes, I chicken out and look away before I can see anything. But I can’t stand it anymore. I need to know.

Did that little show for Rick ruin everything? Because knowing I’m a whore is one thing, seeing it with your very own eyes is quite another.

Was that wonderful kiss at the opera our first, and our last?

Oh lord. I don’t want to know. I want to look away. Ignorance is bliss.

But he has captured my gaze. I’m caught. I’m falling and there is nowhere for me to go.

His deep brown eyes are full of secrets. I can see worry and concern. But I can’t decipher the rest. Is he disgusted by me, but hiding it?

“Everything is going to be okay,” he rumbles deeply.

I blink. Shit. Guess I was looking all kinds of nervous. But he thinks it is about this little trip. He doesn’t know he is the one who has me terrified. Or does he?

“Because I should trust you?” I snap. Throwing his words and his actions back in his face.

He winces. Almost physically recoils. It is like I have slapped him. Guilt floods his expression. Terrible and deep. He feels bad for convincing me not to scream in the coach station. He feels responsible for everything that has happened since.

But it is not his fault. None of this is. I’m the one who got myself into this mess. He is just the poor bastard who was ordered to babysit me, and now I’ve sucked him into my orbit of chaos.

He is the most perfect man on the planet, so of course I’ve fallen for him. I didn’t mean to seduce him in return. But that’s what I do, I mess things up and I destroy them. I break everything that I touch.

He was right to bring me back. Running was suicidal. And I’d much rather spend my last days with Dario than anywhere else on Earth. Even though he deserves much, much better than me.

“Sorry, Duckling,” I sigh. “Packing makes me bitchy.”

A ghost of a smile twitches his lips. “Everything makes you bitchy.”

A snort laugh escapes me. “You know me so well.”

Dario chuckles, and the warmth of it seeps into my bones. He holds my gaze and I smile like a crazy person.

I can see it now. He doesn’t hate me. He knows exactly what I am and miraculously, he still likes me. I think my little heart is going to explode.

I take a deep breath and stride confidently down the hallway towards the front door.

“I’m carrying all of these, am I?” barks Dario.

I look over my shoulder with my best grin. “You are so big and strong and you wouldn’t want me to break a nail, would you?” I flutter my eyelashes for good effect.

Dario lets out an exasperated, world-weary sigh and begins picking up all my bags. My grin deepens and I skip away in glorious triumph.

It is dark and cool in the basement car park. Dario unlocks his car. I watch as he starts loading the boot with my bags. Then I stroll casually to the front of the car and help myself to the front passenger seat. Riding shotgun? Is that what American’s call it? I have no idea what the Italian term for it is.

Whatever Dario might refer to it as, it feels daring. I’ve never sat in the front before. I’ve always been relegated to the back. Like a chore or a customer. Like a child. Sitting in the front is what friends do. As well as boyfriends.

My heart is racing as Dario opens his door. He slides in. He puts the key in the ignition.

“Seatbelt,” he says.