Hold You Against Me (Stripped 4)

That’s possessiveness, not necessarily protection. He could hurt me. He probably will.

My doubt must show on my face, because Maria continues. “He does not…” In her pause I see her struggle for the words. I wonder if it’s a language barrier. Her accent is slight but discernable. “He does not hurt women.”

The tone in her voice reminds me of the girls who dance at the Grand, girls who were hurt by men too many times. My heart cracks against that hurt, even for this stranger, even for this woman who’s helping keep me here. “Who hurt you, Maria?”

Fear floods her eyes, and her lips press together. “I can’t help you.”

I’ve lost her again, and I’m desperate. “Please. This isn’t for me. It’s for my sister. She’s worried about me.” And if Maria knows what it’s like to be hurt by men, she’ll also understand my sister’s fear. After what Honor has been through, she’ll think the worst. “You don’t have to tell her where I am. If you just—”

“No,” she says, hardening her voice. “I owe Mr. Costas my life. I will do nothing to harm him.”

“Even if he hurts me?” My voice cracks. I didn’t mean to say that. Didn’t mean to beg for help, at least not to escape. I keep trying to convince myself that it doesn’t matter if he forces me to have sex. He’s already keeping me here. It’s just one more thing.

But that’s a lie. It would break something inside me, something that could never be repaired. Not just for a man to force himself on me, but for Giovanni to do it.

Her nostrils flare. “He wouldn’t.”

God. I need to get myself together. It feels like I’m breaking apart, looking at this woman who would defend Giovanni, even against himself. He’s already said what he’s going to do to me. I need to find some way to accept it. And she isn’t the answer I need.

“Thanks,” I say, swallowing hard. “I think I’ll just do my own hair.”

I hate that she looks hurt, but I just couldn’t. It would be too creepy for her to dress me up, make me pretty just so Giovanni can rape me. Too wrong.

She nods stiffly as the sound of a growling dog comes through the door. Then it’s open, and she leaves without another word, brushing past Romero on her way out. He barely spares her a glance, frowning at the dog as he unhooks the leash.

My gaze focuses on him. I thought Maria was my best chance for help, but I was wrong. She’s sympathetic toward me, yes. And way too loyal to Giovanni. Romero, on the other hand, is stuck doing dog-walking duty. He must have fucked something up to be given such a crappy task.

“Romero,” I say, questioning.

He looks up in surprise. He hadn’t thought I would remember him. The sound he makes is more of a grunt than a word, but I take it as encouragement.

“You worked for my father.” I need to feel him out, find out if he’s as fanatically loyal to Giovanni as Maria is. And judging from the zealous flash in his eyes at the mention of my father, I’m guessing not.

“Your father was a good man,” he says gruffly.

No, he was a horrible man. “I miss him,” I lie, because I’m running out of time. Tonight is the engagement party. I’m guessing the wedding will be soon after. There’s no need to waste time on propriety when the bride is being forced. “I didn’t want to leave before, but now I do.”

His eyes flash again, this time with jealousy. “Everything is different now.”

“I know.” I pretend to be sad about that as I round the table, moving slowly, letting his eyes roam my body. “But you know the old ways. You were the kind of man I looked up to.”

His gaze is locked on my breasts, which are barely contained by the tank top. I don’t know whether Giovanni likes my curves, but Romero apparently does. I move closer to him, letting my hips sway. My stomach ties into knots. I don’t know how far I’ll have to go to get him to help me, but I have to try.

“You didn’t look at me twice when you were here before,” he says, his voice rough. With desire? Or with anger? This is a man I wouldn’t want to see angry. Not the cold fury that Giovanni would have. This man would be wild in his anger, like Shane.

“I was young,” I say honestly. “I didn’t understand how things worked. And…I was afraid of you. Because you’re strong.” And violent. And probably sociopathic. “I’m grown now.”

“Yes, you are,” he mutters, daring to place his hand on my hip.

I hold back my flinch. “It isn’t right, him having me. Daddy wouldn’t have wanted that.”

That much isn’t a lie. He would be furious to know that Giovanni, the son of a foot soldier, had somehow usurped his position. It bothered him deeply that he never had a son. So he’d done the next best thing and chosen his successor, who was to marry Honor. Now all his plans are ruined.

Romero looks just as pissed as my father would be. “There’s a natural order.”

“I know,” I say, placing my hand on his suit lapel. “But I can’t do anything about it now. I’m trapped in here. He’s going to take what he wants from me. What he doesn’t deserve.”

I may not want to be a princess, but that’s how I was born.