Hired:The Italian's Bride

But she couldn’t go on. Her throat closed over as memories flooded back; cowering in a corner while he yelled at her mother. The rage on his face as he used his fists on her. Mari had foolishly spent too many evenings trying to defend her mother, only to receive the same treatment.

The years of long-sleeved shirts and makeup. Being scared to speak up and feeling guilty listening to the sound of punches on the other side of the wall, too paralyzed to do anything. Of tiptoeing around, always afraid of saying the wrong thing or doing something not quite the right way.

Years of waiting for her mother to tell her it was over, but that moment never came. She’d remained trapped in the living hell of her childhood.

For the first time, Mari forgot all the police reports, all the therapy, all the ways she’d been told she’d made progress, and she simply cried—quiet, cold, devastating tears.

Luca pulled her into his arms and held her…warm, solid, sure. She cried for the childhood she’d lost, the guilt she still felt, the fear that never quite went away, and the fact that today of all days it had finally reached the point where she could grieve for it all.

Luca had made that possible. By some miracle, he’d pushed himself into her life and had shown her what was real.

After several minutes she slid backward on the couch, wiping her eyes. Luca went to the bathroom and brought back a box of tissues, offering her two and waiting patiently.

“I’m sorry for crying all over you that way.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing her. “I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

At that moment the telephone rang and Luca scowled. “Answer it,” Mari said, but Luca shook his head.

“It can wait.”

The ringing persisted and he sighed, rising to answer. Mari watched him from her position on the couch. She was tired, so tired. Only once before had she been this drained, and it was the day she’d had to testify in court.

“It will have to wait.”

Mari heard Luca speaking into the telephone. His eyes remained fixed on her and she tried tucking the hair that had come loose back behind her ears. She must look a fright. His voice came again. “I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of something more important right now. You’ll have to take care of it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He hung up the phone and came back, sitting on the table again and taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry about that.”

She was still trying to absorb the fact that he’d put off whoever it was to look after her. “If you need to go, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.”

“You’re not okay. And it can wait. Right now looking after you is my priority.”

Never, not once in her life had anyone said those words to her. Never had anyone put her first. But Luca—driven, workaholic Luca—had just put off whoever had been on the other end of that call. She licked her lips, unsure of where to start.

“Today I forgot all the things I learned from counseling and only felt the fear, the responsibility. If only I’d done something differently it wouldn’t have happened. I…” She swallowed, having difficulty going on. “Oh, Luca, I thought I was far beyond that. I worked so hard and all of a sudden it was like no time had passed at all. And then you were there. I was so glad to see you.”

“He put his hands on you. I couldn’t allow that.” He lifted his other hand and grazed her cheek with his fingers.

“In that moment I was trapped, back seven years ago. That day…” Her voice faded away for a moment. It was all in the police report. It was in her medical files after she’d gone through intensive counseling. But she’d never willingly offered it to someone who hadn’t been paid to hear it.

“What happened that day, Mariella?”

His voice encouraged her, invited her. After all he’d done, telling him seemed the next logical, if difficult step.

“I had moved out, and felt torn because on one hand I had left my mum behind. On the other I was away and safe. Mum had called and had said she was finally leaving him.” Mari realized her eyes were bone-dry; she must have cried herself out earlier. She remembered being so relieved, so happy that her mum was getting away. Happy at the thought that maybe, just maybe, they could start building a relationship. “I said I’d come and help. But when I arrived, he’d gotten there first. Caught her packing her bags and when I found her she was bleeding, unconscious on the floor, with a broken arm and a cracked skull. Her clothes were strewn everywhere, slashed to ribbons.”

“Dio Mio.” Luca’s low exclamation drew her out of the memory.