CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: WINTER
"You're happy." I nearly jump out of my chair at the sound of Maximo's voice.
I look around the room for him, coming up blank. The room is still spinning from hitting my head on the ground and it becomes hard to try to keep looking. I close my eyes, trying to ease the dizziness. This time when I open my eyes and find Maximo's face within millimeter of mine, I do jump.
And nearly hit the ground.
His big hands lock around my upper arms and panic kicks in as I remember what's happened in the past when he had his hands on me. I try to pull away but I don't get anywhere as his hands continue to hold onto me.
Pinpricks buzz along my skin and my breathing picks up.
"Don't worry, mouse," he says, his lips turning up into a grin. He moves closer, his lips dragging along the side of my face, leaving tingles. They graze against the side of my ear slightly. "I'm under orders not to touch you again." He pulls back but doesn't release me. His grin widens. "And I've decided I'll obey them for a while, until I get bored at least."
I blink.
Is this why he's left me alone, or at least hasn't physically touched me since that night? He's definitely tormented me verbally and psychologically with those dark smiles that promise pain. But he hasn't actually put his hands on me in a harmful way. There's been a graze here and there, but nothing more.
Did Giovanni order him to leave me alone?
I know he's the only one with enough power to tell Maximo what to do.
"You're worrying your pretty little head about things that don't matter," he says, his hands tightening slightly on my arms before relaxing. "But when I came in there was this look on your face..." His eyes narrow. "It almost looked like happiness."
I press my lips into a thin line because he's right. I was happy a few moments ago. For the first time since I came here I felt complete happiness.
I caught the rat, I caught Todd. It took months and a whole lot of threats from Giovanni, but I did it. I completed the job I was given, so Giovanni doesn't have any use for me anymore.
He's going to let me go, right?
He hadn't said much to me when he'd arrived at the club. He'd only asked what had gone down with a scowl on his face. I explained to him what I found in the desk and Enzo explained killing both Todd and Mario. He hadn't known what was going on in the hallway when he stepped out, or he would have tried to keep at least one man alive to interrogate, or so he told Giovanni.
It hadn't mattered either way, because it hadn't taken Vito more than five minutes to find all the evidence they needed. Turns out Todd was keeping a majority of the cocaine he was selling inside his office desk.
It was a bold move.
But I hadn't focused on that or anything else on our ride back to the mansion. Not even when Vito ushered me into a room I've never been in in the mansion.
My freedom was the only thought on my mind.
It's the thought that won’t leave. I didn't expect to come here and have to search for a rat and waitress, I expected to have to do darker things. I shudder at the thought. But now that I've completed the job and there's only been minimal psychological scarring caused mostly by the man holding onto me... I have hope.
He's not going to keep me here for another eight and a half months just to waitress.
It's illogical.
Maximo's hands begin to slide down my arms, hot and firm, but his grip doesn't hurt. He pauses when his hands get to my wrist and he turns them over, staring. I try to pull my arms away when I realize what he's looking at. Even though his grip isn't as tight as before, I still don't stand a chance against him. "Hmmm," he hums before running his thumbs over the old, faint marks.
They're only visible if someone is really paying attention which isn't often. Most people give me nothing more than a passing glance.
Maximo eyes lift, meeting mine and his thumbs begin to dig into my wrists, applying pressure until I wince in pain. The old wounds don't hurt anymore, but Maximo's roughness certainly does.
"Stop," I say.
To my surprise he does, relieving the pressure but not releasing me. "Tell me why you were happy," he says, his eyes meeting mine.
"It's nothing, just an old memory," I tell him.
He rolls his eyes before pressing down with his thumbs again. "Don't lie to me."