Millie hugs her hard and I see the look of concern on her face. She was worried about Gabriela. This arranged—no, let’s be real here—this forced marriage, I don’t know what I expect from it. I haven’t thought it through on any level, actually. Other than I am taking her from Marchese, I haven’t given thought to what I’d do with her. To how real this marriage will be. I haven’t considered what her days will be like.
I haven’t cared.
And it’s not that I care now, I tell myself as Millie looks Gabriela over and tells her she’ll make her something to eat and get her something to drink.
“I want to shower. And throw these clothes away,” Gabriela says.
“Millie,” I start, not looking at Gabriela. Not sure I can without taking her in my arms and I’m not sure if it’s to hug her tight or to shake her so fucking hard, I may do more damage than those men did. “Did you get in touch with the doctor?”
“Yes. He’s on his way. He should be here any minute.”
“Good.” I run a hand through my hair, not quite able to focus on anything but this chaos of emotions inside. “Take care of it. I’ll be back.”
I walk away. I don’t say goodbye to Gabriela. Don’t say a word to her. I just walk out of the house and I can feel Gabriela’s unbelieving eyes burn into my back.
But fuck her.
She brought this on herself. I haven’t lied to her once and when I told her about Alex, she didn’t believe me. She called her fucking father to be rescued from me.
The urge to throttle her has my hands fisting as I step into the Bugatti and drive into Palermo. I go straight to Rafa’s house. Just walk right in and make my way to the living room, pouring myself a whiskey before I sit down.
When he sees me, he seems surprised. He’s on the phone. I notice his hair’s wet and he’s changed his clothes. Mine still have crusted blood on them.
“Stefan,” he starts, disconnecting his call. “Something happen?”
I swallow my drink. “Yeah, something happened. I think you were there for it.”
He gives me a strange look, opens his mouth to say something but I shake my head.
“I’m pissed, Rafa.”
He turns to walk behind the bar and get a glass.
“I’m fucking pissed. She could have been killed and my men didn’t even see her go. Fucking idiots.”
He walks to the couch, carrying the bottle of whiskey with him.
“You fired them. The new men will know better to look out for her.” He pours himself a whiskey and refreshes mine.
“Seeing her in that well…” I give a shake of my head. “It fucked with me. I don’t care about this girl. I hate her, in fact. I should, at least.” I finish my drink, rub the back of my neck as Rafa refills my glass once more.
“But you don’t. You like her.”
I turn to him. “I don’t fucking like her. I’m not fucking sixteen.”
He makes a face like yeah right.
“What happened to your car?” I ask, abruptly changing the subject.
“Nothing,” he says, casually turning his gaze away. “Sideswiped someone. Probably shouldn’t have been driving.”
“Sideswiped two cars at once?”
“Wall on one side.”
“When?”
“Couple nights ago. Doesn’t matter.”
I study him. Remember there was paint on both sides of the car. But I decide to drop it. “I’m grateful to your father,” I say, swallowing the bitter taste the words leave.
“He’ll be glad to hear it. But you should tell him yourself.”
I nod my head, finish my drink and stand. “Let’s go out.”
It’s late when I get back to the house. I pass Gabriela’s room when I get upstairs, only pausing for a second. Once inside my own room, I hit my shin against the baseboard of the bed as I stumble to take off my shoes and socks.
The balcony doors are open and it’s a stormy night. I walk outside.
I love rain in Sicily. It’s so rare and when it comes at night, fuck, it’s something to see. I stand there in it, stand there getting soaked.
I look at her doors. The curtains billow in the wind and rain blows inside. She should close them. I walk to her room wondering how she can sleep with all this noise, momentarily panicked that she snuck away again.
But she’s here. She’s in her bed and asleep under the covers. Out cold. I wonder if she slept at all during her captivity.
I brush hair back from her face, take in the bruises. She looks peaceful. And even with the bruises, she’s still beautiful.
It could have been worse. They could have really hurt her, but they didn’t.
This wasn’t about hurting her, though. Someone’s sending a message.
They can take what’s mine.
My hands fist, fingernails digging into my palms. I will kill whoever did this. I will demolish them.