Hold You Against Me (Stripped 4)

“And what about me protecting you? I loved you, Gio, with everything I had. That was how I protected you and Honor. Both of you would have fought for me and suffered the consequences. So I didn’t tell.”

Giovanni runs a hand over his face, looking more troubled than I’ve ever seen, more real than he’s been since I returned to the mansion. He stares at the stained glass, unseeing. “So all those nights when you came to meet me, he had put his hands on you. He had terrorized you, and I did nothing.”

I take a step toward him, place a hand on his arm. “This is what I didn’t want. This guilt.”

“Guilt?” he says harshly. “I swore I’d protect you.”

“It wasn’t your fault, just like it wasn’t mine.”

He pulls away from me. “I wish I could kill him again. That fucker. I wish I could take him downstairs.”

The basement, he means. I shiver. “It’s over now. Done.”

His expression clouds, and he looks at me like I’m a stranger. “Done,” he repeats hollowly.

“I’m over it,” I say gently, but we both know that’s a lie. My freak-out in the bedroom proved that, and the knocked-over side table between us confirms it. “We don’t have to talk about it again.”

His eyes meet mine, and I see a grief so profound I can’t breathe. “When they held me in that basement, I was glad. It meant you were free. Every second I spent down there meant they hadn’t found you yet. So no one could put their hands on you if you didn’t want them to.”

Tears trace a hot path down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Gio.”

“And it was for nothing.”

“No. It was everything. You did save me. And Honor too. I love you for that, Gio. I love you for everything.” I reach for him, but he pulls away with a slashing motion.

“You loved that boy. He’s gone now.”

Cautiously I reach for him again. I place a hand on his muscled arm, feeling the tension running through him. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t embrace me either. “I know you’re different,” I tell him. “I love who you are now too.”

We remain that way for a long moment, as if in a black hole, floating without gravity, anchored only by the touch of my hand to him. I can feel his breath, his anguish. His remorse.

His eyes are soulless, empty. “Romero will take you back to the studio.”

My hand falls away. “What do you mean, he’ll take me back? I know the way.”

“He’ll escort you. You aren’t going to be at that pool house tonight. You aren’t going anywhere without a guard.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

I only return to the studio long enough to pick up Lupo, who whines in a high pitch and licks my hand.

“Take me to my old room,” I tell Romero, who looks uncertain but ultimately lets me go.

For the next hour I curl up in the old bed with flowered sheets and stare out the window. Gio looked so cold when he sent me away. And all the trust he had built in me is gone. I can’t live this way. Even if he gives my freedom back, I’ll always know he can take it away again.

The only way to get out is to see my sister, except I have no way out. Romero is standing guard outside the door. The window is secure. Will Giovanni hurt her when he meets her in the pool house? He might not hurt her, but he would definitely consider the men with her fair game. Soldiers, like him.

At dinnertime Maria enters the room bearing a tray. “Come and eat,” she says.

“I’m not hungry,” I mumble, pressing my face into the pillow.

I hear the door close and figure she’s left the tray on the table. But I hear her making soft kissing noises to Lupo. When I peek behind me, he’s sniffing close to a piece of meat she’s holding out. He takes it and backs away, chewing and eyeing the plate for another piece.

At least someone learned to trust during my time here.

She approaches the bed and straightens a pillow. I don’t care what she has to say. Giovanni is so great, he would never hurt me. I know now that it’s partially true. He doesn’t try to hurt me, not with his hands. He hurts me anyway, by treating me like a captive. By keeping me from my sister. By forcing me to face truths I prefer to leave buried.

“Clara,” she whispers.