Before, Emmanuelle had been absolutely certain Val loved her. When they came together physically, the chemistry was explosive. Sex was certainly not love. Even if that lasted their entire life together because of the connection of their shadows, she still wanted to be loved for who she was. Everything they had together had been built on deception.
She gingerly hugged her brothers before going to the elevator with Stefano and Ricco. Stefano caught her chin as they rode to the correct floor. “You want out at any time, you just give an indication and we’ll take you out.”
She nodded, blinking rapidly. She loved her family so much. “Thank you, Stefano. This is difficult for him as well. We’re just kind of in this place where we don’t know what to do.”
He cupped her chin, looking into her eyes even as the doors slid open and Drago and Demetrio appeared, looking for a moment as if they might shoot first and ask questions later. Stefano refused to look away from her.
“I made absolutely certain that Francesca couldn’t escape me, Emmanuelle. I knew she was mine. She belonged to me. I wasn’t about to let her get away. I’ve never regretted that decision, and I’ve worked every day to see that she doesn’t regret being with me. I’m not a nice man. I’ll never be one. You and I both know Valentino isn’t a nice man, either. I don’t want him for you, and I’m not standing up for him, but I am saying, just because he used every method he had available to him to tie you to him doesn’t mean he did it for all the wrong reasons.” His thumb slid along her jaw. “Keep that in mind when you listen to him.” Stefano dropped his hand and stepped back, indicating for her to precede him into the suite.
Emmanuelle pressed her hand over her thudding heart. She just wanted this over. Seeing Val after all this time, two years of avoiding him, of learning to live without him, of not feeling him running along her nerve endings like a song, was just too much. She needed downtime. Somewhere she could go to be alone and just stare off into space and not think. Not feel. Not hurt anymore.
Dario stood in the foyer. “I assume you gentlemen are armed.”
“You assume correctly,” Stefano said. “Not that it matters. I’m quite capable of killing someone without a weapon.”
Dario didn’t smile—in fact, when his dark eyes slid over Emmanuelle, he frowned. “Emme. Are you injured?”
She wasn’t even walking, and he asked the same question Stefano had. So much for being stoic. She shook her head. “Nope. Just fine.”
He stood there, blocking the door, staring at her with his dark, piercing, accusing eyes. She rolled hers. “Fine. Not that it’s any of your business, but I took a couple of punches. Hurts like hell but only bruises.”
Dario had his phone and was texting fast, one-handed.
“Great. Sending that little bit of info straight to your boss? Is that really necessary? He doesn’t need to know.”
Dario just looked at her and then opened the door. Emmanuelle could see that Valentino had cleaned up. He’d taken a shower and changed his bandages. His color was far better. He looked fresh, and she looked … wilted. The moment she walked into the master bedroom, his dark eyes moved over her, assessing her for the damage Dario had reported.
“Come here, Princess.” His voice was low, a soft melody that immediately sent a wave of comfort along her nerve endings, spreading through her body and finding the bruises.
She heard his swift intake of breath and knew he shared the pain, that he’d found just where she was injured. Their connection was so strong it was frightening. He held out his hand to her, his gaze on her face, eyes meeting hers.
She didn’t want to go to him. She almost couldn’t bear his touch, but then starting out first thing with him in any kind of altercation while her brothers were in the room was a losing situation all the way around. What did it matter if they were skin to skin? He was already inside, twisted and knotted in every nerve ending she had, wrapped around her heart and maybe even her soul.
She made certain she went to the side of the bed where the light would highlight her shadow, and if he moved, his. Her brothers had come to see what their combined shadows looked like, and she was determined to allow them to see, even if that meant Valentino’s shadow would be able to overpower hers even more. She hadn’t mentioned her fear of that to Stefano. Maybe she should have.
She’d been so careful to keep her shadow safe from Val ever since she realized he knew what was happening and was deliberately imprisoning her. Sometimes, like now, she was afraid, feeling as if it were too late for her, and she was already his prisoner and she couldn’t escape. When that happened, she wanted to fight her way out.