He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I threatened you to keep you safe and from asking questions.”
“I don’t care.”
He gripped my shoulder and turned me to face him. “It is truth. I had to convince Rocco I had no feelings for you. I failed.” He pulled at my hand until I stood in front of him and snapped the spaghetti straps of my dress before he pulled it off of me. Still sitting on the bed, his eyes roamed my body as he pulled me toward him and buried his head in my stomach. My hands lay lax at my sides.
“Forgive me, Phoenix.”
Naked and raw, I looked down as he gripped me tightly to him. “I have ruined us both.”
“Just do it, Daniello.”
“No,” he snapped as he looked up at me. “No.” He placed a soft kiss against my stomach.
“Rocco told me you would be the one to kill me. What the fuck are you waiting for!?” I pushed at his shoulders as he gripped me tighter.
“Don’t lie to me anymore. Don’t be such a goddamned coward. Don’t drag this out!”
He stood and lifted me, carrying us into the bathroom as I fumed. He started the shower and brought us both in.
“You think fucking me is going to make this go away?! I hate you!”
Daniello pulled off his T-shirt and jeans as I glared at him from under the running water.
He remained mute as he washed his hair and then mine. I pulled away from him and soaped my own body as he watched.
The smell of the soap hit me, and I bit my trembling lip. Daniello saw my reaction and closed the space between us. “This pain that you feel right now, this missing of me, I have felt this every minute since the penthouse. I had no knowledge of Rocco’s plans. I stopped watching you. I was trying to break myself from you. I wanted to keep you safe. It was the only way to convince him. I did not know he would go this far.”
I pushed past him and grabbed a towel. “I don’t care.”
“You do fucking care!” Daniello turned off the water. “You are not lost, Taylor, you are angry. I understand this.” He looked down at me and gripped my face. “I am your mirror, Taylor Ellison. Look at me, I am your mirror!”
With a burning throat, I swallowed. “What the hell are you talking about?” He pressed his forehead against mine and took several breaths.
“We are the same. Get dressed.”
He walked out of the bathroom and closed the door.
Dressed and numb, I found Daniello at a large oak table on his patio. He was dressed casually in a chalky white button down shirt and slacks. The sheer beauty of him was only enhanced by the backdrop. As many times as I pictured him in Italy, it was a bleary contrast to the sight before me. His golden eyes found my green as he gestured for me to sit. I took the seat next to him.
“Are you hungry?”
I shook my head as he poured a cup of coffee for both of us, then pushed my cup toward me. I accepted it as we sat in silence.
Several times he looked my way, but I refused to meet his eyes.
“My mother was a mafia princess, and my father made sure she chose him.”
I sipped my coffee and looked past him at the rolling hills surrounding his villa.
“She took her last breath believing they met by coincidence. I think that is the word?”
I nodded.
“But it was his plan. He was a career soldier. He married her and kept her in Cairo, away from her family, with the help of the military until a few years after my brother, Matteo, and I were born. My mother was unhappy in Cairo, and by order of my grandfather, we were made to move back to Italy. My father brought us back to avoid a small war. His intentions were to use her as a way of earning a place in the Di Giovanni family. By holding her there, it was a way of sending a message.”
I furrowed my brow. “By holding his daughter hostage?”
“These were the ways of the old world. Bold moves meant much then. And my father wanted to prove himself a powerful man. Powerful enough to stand against the entire family. My mother was my grandfather’s world. His only child. And my father was not of Italian blood.”