“Me too.”
Carina’s eyes fill with empathy. “That’s something only the two of you will be able to determine. And unfortunately, I can’t have Rafael murder his brother if he hurts you.”
She winks at me and I huff out a laugh. “That’s a shame because your fiancé is quite good at that type of thing.”
“Rafael told me Tristano is even more ruthless,” she says. “I don’t know about you, but I find that easy to believe.”
Memories of my time in Guatemala surface, bringing a visual of the policeman Tristano killed without hesitation to protect me. There’s a darkness in him that’s disconcerting, but only if you’re the one opposing him. For me, it provides a sense of security.
I nod in agreement. “He is very intense.”
Carina sighs and then gives me a hug. I return the embrace, soaking in the warmth of her, created by her love for me. I whisper that I love her and she squeezes me so hard I wheeze. When we pull apart her eyes are glassy with tears and she tells me how much she cares for me also.
“I’m not one for extreme optimism, but I really think our lives are only going to get better from now on,” she says.
“It sure can’t get any worse.”
My sister laughs softly as she slides from the bed. “No, it can’t.”
She presses a kiss to my cheek and then leaves. The peace I felt in her presence begins to deteriorate and a sense of panic grabs me by the throat. I hurry to the door and lock it, releasing an exhale as soon as the metal clicks into place.
If only it was as simple to lock away my feelings for Tristano.
Wrapping a towel around my body, I step from the bathtub feeling somewhat relaxed. It only took two hours spent in steaming hot water to work out the stress in my muscles. I can’t recall a time I was free to do something so unproductive and trivial, and it’s for that reason I enjoyed it immensely.
I walk over to the closet and stare at the numerous articles of clothing available for my personal use. Another choice has to be made and the overwhelm of it creeps up from the pit of my belly. I shove the feeling aside and snatch the first thing my fingers come into contact with. Making decisions shouldn’t be this difficult and it irritates me that I find myself wishing someone would do it for me.
And that someone is Tristano, who still hasn’t come to my room.
I’m more relieved than anything. It’s well into the early morning hours and I slip on the scrap of material—because it’s really nothing more than a sexy apron, given how much it actually covers—intending to sleep. It’s going to be difficult, knowing Tristano is somewhere close by, but it’s too late for him to show up.
Our battle of wills is to be continued…
I crawl onto the massive bed and it doesn’t take me long to get comfortable under the sheets. My eyes close of their own volition and I snuggle deeper in the duvet. Whether or not Tristano is a tyrant on occasion has nothing to do with his excellent taste. Even the barely-there nightie is luxurious against my skin.
The distinct sound of the door handle being manipulated causes my scalp to prickle. I bolt straight up in the bed and shove my hair from my face to stare in that direction. Did I imagine the noise?
“Violetta, unlock this door.Now.”
That is no figment of my imagination, unless my mind is trying to induce a heart attack. My hesitation to obey him does not go unnoticed, unfortunately. Tristano’s voice, entwined with an angry undercurrent, also carries strands of irritation.
“If you believe I won’t break down this door, you’re sadly mistaken,” he says. “In fact, for every dollar I spend replacing it, that will be the number of times I whip your ass when I get my hands on you.”
I fly from the bed. That’s the only way to describe it.
“Please, don’t.” My whisper is barely there and I wonder if he even hears me. I flatten my palms against the door and press my cheek to it with my eyes squeezed shut. “I need you to leave me alone.”
Foolishness often begets courage. That’s my theory for why I’m telling him my inner thoughts. Because we both know the couple inches of wood between us is not enough to keep him from me. And maybe nothing is.
“Tristano, you confuse and frustrate me until I feel like screaming. The uncertainty between us isn’t good for me. I need time away from you in order to figure out what I want and I can’t do that with you constantly overwhelming me. If you care about me at all, then give me the freedom of choice one more time so I can make up my mind.”
His response is immediate. “No.”
“But—”
“The onlychoiceyou’re going to get is to decide whether or not you want this entire household to hear you get fucked by me.Thatis the only freedom I’m allowing you.”
My breath leaves me in a whoosh at the imagery he’s providing and it takes me several inhalations to gather the necessary oxygen to produce words. “It’s late, so why don’t we—”
