Page 21

Cara

I’m not sure what time it is when I hear a knock on my door. It’s dark out, and has been for a while—a few hours, at least. I’ve barely been aware of the time passing, too caught up in my thoughts to really give a damn.

I haven’t been able to stop going over what Veronica told me when I saw her sitting there—the story she spun to me, and how much it makes sense with everything I know about my father, about the kind of man he is.

I might have wanted to believe, to tell myself that he’s not all that bad, but everything he is, everything he has done, it all adds up to the image of a man who would be capable of doing the things that Max and his family are accusing him of.

What Veronica told me chilled me to the bone, and I know that it’s barely even scratching the surface.

I don’t want to know how young she was when she was pulled into that, nor how long she spent in that hellish place.

I want to just lift all those memories from her mind and cast them somewhere far away where they can’t hurt her or anyone else.

But if it worked that easily, none of this would be happening.

"Come in," I call out to whoever is on the other side of the door, though I already have the feeling I know who it will be.

Sure enough, Max steps in, haloed by the warm light in the corridor outside. He looks me up and down, concern written all over his face.

"Are you okay?"

"What do you think?"

He smirks slightly. I guess he can tell that it’s a redundant question, given what is going on.

"Okay, my bad," he concedes. "How are you feeling?”

"I don’t know," I confess, finally.

I have been hiding in here for most of the day, and, to be quite honest, I don’t feel like emerging anytime soon.

All I really want is for this to be over.

No, not for it to be over, for it to have never happened in the first place, because trying to live with the reality of everything that is going on is hell on earth.

I want to sink back into blissful ignorance and leave this behind, I want to. ..

Finally, I look up at him again. He is standing there, just in front of me, his sharp features knitted together as he tries to parse what is going on in my head.

I’m not sure if I want him to find out, not really.

The thought of letting him inside in that way, of letting him crawl inside my head and know how close I am to turning my back on everything is petrifying.

"You said you thought I could be an... an ally to you."

He nods.

"Yeah," he replies, watching me carefully. "And I stand by that, for the record."

I hesitate before I continue. I don’t know quite how to put this into words, but I have to try.

"And you wouldn’t doubt me? You know, because of who my father is?”

He sighs, and moves towards me slightly.

The air in the room seems to thicken for a moment, a ripple passing through my body as I register his presence.

My mind flashes back to the sensation of his mouth between my legs, which I have been doing my level best to try and forget.

But it’s still there, burning as bright as it ever did, and there is still a part of me that wants nothing more than for him to pull me into my arms and kiss me like he did before.

"Only if you give me reason to doubt you."

I flick my gaze back and forth between his eyes, scanning them. What does he suspect? Is he on to me? Does he realize what is going on here, what I’m capable of?

"I ran away," I counter pointedly. "I was ready to leave all of this behind and go back to my father. Doesn’t that give you reason enough to doubt me?”

He shakes his head, moving a little closer to me.

"You were scared," he murmurs, the back of his hand tracing against mine for a moment. A jolt of electricity passes over my skin. I hate how obvious I make it, how easy it is for him to get the better of me like this.

"And what about... what about the people who were shooting earlier?"

"You heard that?”

"Of course I did. I told you I did."

He pauses for a moment.

"You know anything about it?”

Now, there’s the question. I wince, shifting my weight from foot to foot slightly.

"Yeah. I... when you were in the shower, I... I called the last number on your phone."

His jaw tightens. I can tell that he’s pissed, but I have no idea just how this is going to go. He could fly at me in a rage; he could rescind all his trust in me in a moment. But if I am going to earn the right to call myself an ally, I need to start doing it right now.

"You did what?”

"I know," I breathe, my voice trembling as I force the words out. "I’m... I don’t know what I was doing. I just couldn’t stand the thought of being locked up in this place any longer. I needed to get out. I needed to do something. I..."

Even as the words spill out of my mouth, I can tell that he doesn’t believe them. Maybe he has every right to. If what Veronica has told me is true, then there’s no way that he trusts a word coming out of a Leone’s mouth. God knows, he doesn’t have any reason to, and yet...

And yet, there is still a part of me that longs for his approval, and I will do anything I can to earn it.

"I guess it must have been one of my father’s men," I admit, filling the silence between us as I wait for him to respond. "They– he– he–"

"They tracked us here," he replies bluntly. I can’t tell if he’s about to fly for me or if he isn’t surprised. Perhaps he laid out the phone as a trap, to see if I would go after it, but surely, he wouldn’t have done something as crazy as that...

"Yeah," I whisper back. "I– I guess so..."

He doesn’t move his gaze from mine, eyes flicking back and forth as he takes me in. I can feel the tension between us, the doubt—everything that has always been there, everything that has always lingered here, no matter how much we might have tried to leave it behind us.

"You could have got me killed."

His words leave no room for interpretation. I nod slightly.

"I know. I’m… I’m sorry, Max. I never would have if I’d known."

I stumble over my words uselessly. I feel stupid.

I feel as though I am making a fool of myself, but I don’t know how else to get it out.

I just want to tell him that I am sorry, but I am not sure that will even come close to being enough compared to everything that my father has done, everything that he has inflicted on this world.

"If you’d known," he repeats, as he closes the distance between us even further, drawing himself just an inch or two from me. "What would you have done?”

I press my lips together for a moment as I gather myself.

"I wouldn’t have reached out to him," I confess. "I only did it because I thought there was some way to ensure that you would be safe. That if I got myself out of here alone, you wouldn’t have to deal with anything that my father tried to throw at you in the way of revenge."

He chuckles slightly, but it’s mirthless.

"You think your father would have spared me? After everything I’ve done?”

"I don’t know," I confess, my voice a little more barbed than I intended. "But I was willing to try. Because I… I don’t want to see you get hurt, Max. I don’t."

"Why not?” he shoots back, challenging me. "Why wouldn’t you want me to pay for dragging you into all of this shit in the first place? If I hadn’t kidnapped you from that wedding, you would have been happily married to that Mario fucker, and you’d never have had to find out about?—"

"Because if I’d married him, he would have been using me the way he used every other woman who has passed through this business," I fire back, my voice taut with fear. "That’s why I believe her, Veronica. That's why I know she’s telling the truth. Not just because I saw her all those years ago, but because… because I know what my father is capable of. I know that he expected me to give myself to Mario, every bit of myself, whether I liked it or not. And if it hadn’t been for you. .."

I pause for a moment, my breath stuttering.

"Then that’s where I’d be right now. And there would be nothing I could do to change it. My body, my virginity, all of it would belong to him."

Anger flashes across his eyes at the sound of those words.

"You would never have belonged to him," he growls, as his fingers wrapped around mine. "You hear me, Cara? It doesn’t matter what he did to you, how he laid hands on you, you would never have belonged to him, never..."

I shake my head, my eyes starting to blur with tears.

"You don’t understand," I whisper. "What would have been expected of me as his wife, it would have given me no choice but to?—"

"Oh, I understand," he cuts me off. "I understand what he would have thought he was owed favors from you. But it doesn’t matter what he believes. You’re your own person, and you always will be. You choose who you give yourself to. You choose who you belong to."

"And... if I choose you?”

I blurt the words out before I can consider what I am saying. I know that it would be crazy to allow myself to be drawn into anything with him, given everything that has just happened, with everything I thought I knew about my life spiraling apart at the seams, faster than I can make sense of it.

"What do you mean?”

His fingers are still wound around mine. I half expect him to pull back, but he doesn’t. He stands there, so close to me the heat of our breath mingles between us. But I want more.

I want more than just his hand in mine. I want his touch all over my body, his mouth between my legs, I want to give myself to him completely.

I want to belong to him in every way that it is possible to belong to someone.

I need something to hang onto right now, and the way he makes me feel seems as good a place as any to start.

"I mean... what we did the other day," I confess. "It wasn’t enough. I want... I want all of you. I want you to have all of me. I want..."