Instead, he stayed there, gazing at me in that same raw and savage manner, then turned around and left me there in that empty room.
With nothing but the heat inside me to keep me company.
But I could hear him close the door behind him as he went. The way I hadn’t been able to hear any of the doors close behind us as we left my father’s house, a lot like there was more force behind it this time.
A lot like he was feeling exactly the same way I was.
I could admit that was satisfying.
Because I was pretty sure I’d just witnessed the Jovi version of storming off and slamming the door behind him.
Nothing could ever convince me that he hadn’t felt that kiss the same way I had.
That we weren’t both equally destroyed by it.
The only difference was, I wanted more. And while I suspected he might, too, he hadvows.
It occurred to me then that he might have meant a specific set of vows. Marriage vows.
Something in me revolted, instantly. I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. This thing roaring between us was too—
But.
But.
How many of my father’s associates bragged openly about their many mistresses when their wives weren’t in the room? Men like Jovi—
Again, something in me surged up in denial. I couldn’t believe there were men like Jovi. I couldn’t believe it was possible.
Still, the men in this world thought nothing of tramping all over their marriage vows. If anything, they took pride in it. They thought it was only their due.
Jovi’s restraint was what set him apart from them.
And as I sat there, his taste in my mouth, I tried to force myself to face the reality of my situation. Finally.
I thought about my mother and what I liked to believe was her bid for freedom. I imagined her in some far-off city, maybe somewhere glamorous like Buenos Aires, listening to tango music and dancing her heart out on cobblestone streets. If I closed my eyes, I could see it. I could see her, smiling the way I doubted she’d had much call to do in her real life.
But the far greater likelihood was that she’d either been run off that road by my father’s men, or they’d set it up to look that way because they didn’t want anyone seeing how she’dactuallydied.
That sat in me. For a long while.
I had no sense of time, there in that room. In that way, it reminded me of the convent. And if I considered it the convent, it was really no scarier. I had spent a great many years sitting and kneeling in uncomfortable positions, carrying on conversations the only way I was permitted to. With myself. In my head.
Where everyone else had apparently found God, but I never had.
I couldn’t allow myself to believe in a God who permitted a man like my father to prosper.
I blew out a breath now and leaned my weight forward, into my cuffs, because it felt good to stretch. I wasn’t exactly warm, with my bare feet on the tile floor, but I didn’t mind it. I could feel exhaustion rolling in, a reaction both to the adrenaline of all this and the fact I’d already been up late when Jovi had appeared in my bedroom. The cold floor was good. Years of having to get up at all hours for various prayers, kneeling in stone chapels no matter the weather, had made me appreciate the way a good chill could focus the mind.
Jovi might very well have been the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me.
But I knew what else he was, too.
I put the pieces together now, one after the next, like a puzzle.
He was a weapon—and an elite one—but he belonged to someone else. And he was Italian, so I could guess what sort ofsomeone elsethat was and what kind of organization they were a part of.
I also paid far more attention to the things my father said to the men he was parading me around in front of—because it’s always good practice to know what the people who have power over you are concerned with—so I also knew my father was under the impression that he had the upper hand overour unpleasant friends from the south.
