Page 48

HADLEY

I thought, by the time we got to the hotel, he would’ve dropped this carrying me everywhere nonsense, but he didn’t. The embarrassment of that, added to the way I look, is too much. The glances, as people wonder what the hell happened to me.

My clothes are filthy, and my face looks like it lost a fight with a truck. I can’t say anything, because I’ve already been scolded about talking bad about myself.

“Ignore them,” he growls, as we step into the elevator.

“Does anything bother you, Massimo?”

He jerks his head down, and stares at me like I’m confusing him.

“Losing you bothers me. Men hurting you. Fucking touching you, yeah, that really fucking bothers me. What random strangers think about me? No, little lamb, that does not bother me, because it doesn’t matter. Why should I pay any attention to the thoughts of someone I will likely never see again?”

He has a valid point. Everybody does that though, other than Massimo. We all worry what strangers think when they look at us. Why do we do that? I don’t have a clue, but I’d love to be more like him. I never thought I’d say that about anything, but it’s true. Also, it doesn’t hurt that he looks like he just stepped off some dangerous men edition of a fashion magazine, and doesn’t have marks all over his face.

He walks out of the elevator, takes a right, walking down the long hallway, and swipes the keycard for the room. Moving to the bathroom, I don’t get to see much of the room, other than spotting the massive size. He sets me on the bathroom counter and starts the shower.

“Normally, I won’t give you a choice, but after what you’ve been through, I will. Do you want to shower alone, or have company?”

I twitch my fingers in front of me as he stares at me, waiting for a response, and I have none, because I’m afraid of how he’ll react if I tell him the truth.

“Baby, remember our deal? You tell me what you need, and I give it to you.”

I sigh audibly.

“I want you with me, but I’m not ready for sex.”

“Jesus Christ. You were tortured for three days. And raped, I don’t even want to fucking know how many times. I did not bring you to a hotel to fuck you. I’m a bad man, not a vile one. I have every intention of letting you fucking heal before I get my dick wet.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He takes the few steps to me and grabs the hem of my shirt.

“Hands up.”

Pulling up my shirt, he’s careful around my face when he pulls it off, and drops it to the floor. He’s gentle, which is new from him. Every piece of clothing he removes from me, he does it as if he’s terrified of hurting me. His eyes drop to the marks on my naked body, and pure anguish reflects in his.

“How did these happen?”

“Belt,” I answer quietly.

He balls up his fists like he’s ready to attack, but I know it’s not me. Squeezing his eyes closed for a moment, before re-opening them, he quickly averts his gaze.

“I’m going to go out there. I’ll give you time alone.”

I grab his hand, and nearly beg him, as my voice breaks.

“Please don’t leave me. I told you what I needed. This is what I need.”

“Alright.” He nods and gets undressed, before helping me off the counter, and walking me into the shower.

With a gentleness I didn’t know he was capable of, he washes my hair and rinses it, before moving to my body. Every time he touches me, I can see the pain.

“I’m okay, Massimo.”

He shakes his head and looks into my eyes.

“Have you ever felt so guilty about something, you thought it would swallow you whole?”

I nod slowly.

“Yes, after Michael died, I thought the never-ending guilt would take me too.”

Sliding his fingers down my arm, he stops, and stares at me with a somber expression.

“That was not your fault.”

I argue, “And this was not something you did. Yes, you were going to sell me to him, and we’ll talk about that another time, Massimo, but you did not tell him to beat me, or anything else. He found me because of you, but he probably would have, at some point, anyway. It does not make you responsible for what he did to me.”

I trace the line of his jaw with my fingers. “You have many things to regret, but that isn’t one.”

The look in his eyes is far away, like he’s lost in a memory.

“Regret is a poison like cancer. It kills slowly. Painfully.”

Standing on my toes, I press a kiss to his jaw.

“Yes, it is. Let it go.”

He wraps his arms around me, and holds me tight against his chest. His heart pounds against me, as he takes my chin in his hand, and tilts my head back. Leaning his head down, he kisses me softly. Once, twice, three times, and pulls away.

“You need sleep. Two minutes, and if you’re not out on your own, I’ll come back and carry you to bed.”