“I… I was just changing the sheets. I’m done now, so I’ll go.” I force out the words, keeping my eyes trained on the floor.
I don’t want to provoke him, and honestly, after dealing with Lucas, I am done peopling today. Before I can take a step forward, he stops me, his hand taking the same wrist his brother had crushed so easily in his grasp. His touch is gentle, but even the softest touch hurts enough to cause black spots to appear in my vision. I bite my lip to stop myself from crying out, but the sound escapes, and Nicolo shoves me back, surprise coloring his features.
“I’m sorry, I have to get out of here.” Tears slip from my eyes and down my cheeks, and my nose is already stuffing up.
Rage fills Nicolo’s devilishly handsome features. “What the fuck is going on? What were you talking about with Lucas?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t in here with him. I was changing the sheets, and I guess he saw me from the hallway and came in to talk to me.”
“Why are you crying?” he demands, like the reason isn’t obvious.
I throw my hands up, my injured one protesting the movement. “I don’t know. I’m tired, I want to go home, and I want some damn clothes of my own.”
He scans me and clears the look of disgust from his features. The man in control of every facet of his life. He stares down at me from his imperial mask. “Get yourself together. You’ll get proper clothing when you earn them, but you won’t do it by sniveling when you’re only doing basic chores.”
He’s impossible. How can he not understand why I hate all of this? My mouth flops open, and I shake my head at him. There is no point in getting angry, but I can’t help it. “You might be worse than your crazy brother if you don’t get why I’m not content to change your sheets and make you breakfast while I wait for you to sell me at some godforsaken auction.”
His eyes narrow at me, and he takes a menacing step forward. Of course, my courage only goes so far, so I skitter backward toward the door. If I made a run for it, he’d probably chase me down to assert his dominance again. I’ve seen it a hundred times before. Men who need to be in charge of every tiny thing, and when the barest hint of control slips, it’s as if the entire world has crumbled around them. My sister called those kinds of men narcissists. And I don’t doubt for a minute that Nicolo fits that bill. Thinking about how much she would have hated Nicolo makes me feel better, strangely. I miss my sister so much.
He faces the bedside table, and I know he spots the necklace out of place from where Lucas returned it. “Did you touch this?”
If I lie to him, Lucas will probably rat me out, so I nod slowly. “Yes. But I only looked at it. Then your brother came in and took it from me. I promise I was only looking at it. I wasn’t trying to steal it or invade your privacy.”
I can’t tell if he believes me or not. His face is so carefully blank. Long seconds pass with him just staring at me, the gold chain clutched tight in his massive fist.
“Get out of here. From here on out, Sarah can change my bedding. You don’t need to do it. Find some toilets to scrub instead. And stay out of Lucas’s room too. She’ll show you which one is his.”
As if I wanted to hunt down the crazy brother and give him more opportunities to scream at me. “Okay,” I say. “Can I go now?”
He nods, his focus back on the piece of jewelry.
I gather the dirty sheets and the stack of clean ones and flee back to my bedroom. Once I’ve locked myself in the room, I rush into the bathroom and stare at my wrist under the brighter lights. Can a man break a woman’s bone just by squeezing her? It hurts from my fingertips all the way to my elbow. I don’t want to cry because once I do, I know I won’t be able to stop. The tears will become sobs. And I don’t want Nicolo, whose bedroom happens to be next to mine, to hear me.
It isn’t a matter of being strong. I just don’t want to give him another excuse to enter my room. I’d expected another display of dominance, another grab to my crotch or nude catwalk, but so far today, he’s avoided me. A mercy. If only his brother would follow that lead.
A faint bloom of purple has sprouted on my fair skin right below the hard nub of my wrist bone. Shit. It isn’t as if I have anything to wrap it with. They’ve only given me one damn shirt, after all. I also refuse to hunt Nicolo down and ask him for anything. Including medical attention.