“When I was a child, I sort of played in the shadows, not riding them, or really hiding in them, but I was really drawn to them and would jump in and out of them, always feeling that weird pull on my body. That wasn’t the same, but I think maybe in a way it prepared my body for the feeling of being in the tube.”
She had played often, and even as she got older, she couldn’t stop herself from jumping in and out of the shadows, like a child playing hopscotch. She’d felt silly, but it had been a compulsion.
“Then, after my parents died and I was given to my step-uncles, when I was taking a shower and I heard one of them coming for me, I inadvertently found myself hidden from him. He called to the others and they hunted for me, but they couldn’t see me.”
She detested talking aloud to the entire group of Ferraros about what had happened to her. It was too personal. At the same time, she would do anything to make things right for Taviano.
“I didn’t realize that I could move in them, but I did it accidentally. Once that happened, I tried to do it deliberately.”
She detested that Taviano was being yelled at because of her. He didn’t show hurt or anger, nor did he try to defend himself, even when he knew his career was on the line. She wanted to defend him. At the same time, she could barely breathe.
She wanted to go home, get to Lucia and Amo. Emmanuelle was there, and Mariko sat quietly with her hands folded neatly the way she did, looking graceful and poised. Two women. That helped, but Nicoletta really wanted to be away from there. Away from all of them—even Taviano. Especially Taviano. She was beginning to sweat, although she felt cold and clammy.
There was silence after her statement. Stefano’s dark blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her skull into her mind, into her soul, where he could see things she didn’t want him to find. Taviano’s arm tightened around her, and she realized she was shaking. She hadn’t lost it in the shadows. She hadn’t lost it when there was gunfire. She couldn’t make a fool of herself and lose it with his family.
She’d been to this penthouse hundreds of times. She’d played with Stefano’s son. She’d worked out in his training hall with his brothers—all the men in this room that she was now so nervous with. What was wrong with her that she was so close to a full-blown panic attack? She knew them. She liked them all. They’d been good to her. Protected her.
She wiped at the sweat on her face and tried to take a breath, but her lungs felt raw and burning. Her vision blurred. There were too many men surrounding her. Too many of them.
Stefano leaned toward her, his dark eyes steady on her face. “What do you mean you’ve done it before? You actually went into the shadows deliberately, Nicoletta? You knew you could hide there? Not be seen?”
She nodded. Desperately drew in air, taking a deep, quick breath. The pressure in her chest increased, her heart pounding to the point that she was afraid it might burst. She pressed her hand hard against her breast and forced herself to answer. “Yes. When I was a teen, they came for me when I was showering, and I was terrified. The things they did to me …”
Now she couldn’t breathe. She could barely see. Her vision had tunneled until everything was going black with the exception of Stefano, who was straight in front of her. “Taviano.” She whispered his name, her fingers twisting in his shirt, gripping him tightly as she had in the shadows, terrified she would make a fool of herself, panicking in front of his family.
Instantly he was crouched in front of her, his forehead pressed against hers. “Just breathe with me, Nicoletta. It’s just you and me. Breathe. Tutti qui sono famiglia.”
She found herself looking into his eyes. Taviano. She loved him. She detested him. He wrapped her around his little finger. She adored him. He made her feel safe. She breathed with him because she would do anything for him, and he was asking her to breathe with him. She knew enough Italian to know he was saying everyone there was her family. She also realized he’d said it deliberately in Italian because he wanted her to distinguish between his family and the ones claiming to be her family who had been so abusive toward her.
Once she was able to breathe again, she slipped her arms around his neck and held him for a moment, gathering her strength before facing Stefano and his brothers. They were intimidating men when they were on their own, but together, they were a force. Taviano slipped back onto the couch beside her as if nothing had happened, his arm once again sliding around her shoulders.