Forgotten Daughter - Page 57
Annabelle turned away. “I should really get ready. I have a lot to do today….”
He stopped her with his stark question.
“Annabelle, what did you want to tell me?”
She didn’t turn around. “Why should I tell you?” she whispered. “What more is there to say?”
Except I love you. I love you.
She closed her eyes. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might explode.
She heard him rise from the bed and walk toward her.
“Whatever it is,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders, “you can tell me.”
Annabelle tried to hide the tremble that went through her at his words. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
He was standing in front of her, naked and so brutally strong, even as his dark eyes shone with tenderness. She looked up into his face, and could no longer keep silent.
Slowly, she lifted her chin.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Stefano sucked in his breath. Drawing back, he searched her face. Fear and hope coursed through Annabelle like a storm, leaving her knees weak.
“You love me?” His voice was husky and low.
Unable to speak, she nodded. “And I need to know … how you feel about me.”
He blinked, then looked down at the floor.
“I care about you, Annabelle,” he said. “More than I’ve ever cared about any woman.”
His last words were quiet. But she could hardly hear anything over the loud thrumming of blood rushing through her ears.
Suddenly, she was freezing. The air in the bedroom was icy. She was surprised she couldn’t see her breath. The soft woven rug felt sharp as rocks beneath her feet.
He didn’t love her.
The mocking voice had been right. It was happening again. Every time she loved someone, they hurt her. Every time she gave someone her heart, they crushed it into dirt.
She felt like she was going to faint.
“You care for me?” she whispered. “I just told you I’m in love with you!”
Stefano’s fingers tightened around hers.
“Yes,” he said sharply. “I care. It’s all I can offer you right now.” Looking down at their intertwined hands, he took a deep breath. “And it’s the most I’ve ever offered any woman. I care for you. I want to be with you. And as long as we are together, I will be faithful.”
“Faithful?” She tossed her head, looking at him coldly. “For how long? A day? A week?”
He lifted his head, and his dark eyes glittered like a January midnight. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “But as long as we are together, querida, you will have all of me.”
Staring at his handsome, tortured face, Annabelle wanted to fall to her knees and weep. Of course it had ended this way. Of course it had.
She folded her arms, willing herself to feel as numb as everyone believed her to be. But bitter anguish seeped through her soul like acid.
“All of you would mean love. Commitment. A promise. What you offer me is a long series of one-night stands. That is all a man like you can offer any woman!”
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