“I can’t tell the truth?”
“No,” she responds bitterly. Compelled, I look at her. Her eyes blaze with a fresh wave of unshed tears. I don’t understand.
“Why not?”
“Because my captor shouldn’t say something that profound and beautiful,” she says lividly. “You don’t have the fucking right. Not when no one else thinks the same.”
“Why would anyone think differently?”
She opens her mouth but thinks twice and snaps it shut. I hear her then grind down on her teeth. The force of it is enough to cause her molars to ache.
I have the urge to soothe her jaw. Looking away I think better of it. Something tells me she’ll only bite my fingers off.
The doors to the elevator open and I carry her through the threshold.
“Let me down. Now.” It’s not a request. It’s a demand. A cold and harsh one.
“You’ll fall,” I remind her.
“I don’t care. Let me fucking go,” she chokes out.
Unlike me I let her down with ease. I come down to my haunches and gently place her feet on the floor. I don’t move as she comes to a stand. I stay close, too close. As she goes to take her first step her leg wobbles. My hands fly out to grab her hips to steady her. She stands shock still.
Taking a breath she orders icily, “Don’t fucking touch me.”
Studying her I take in every detail to help me understand what she’s feeling at this moment. Because I know it’s more than just anger. Flushed cheeks. Tired and watery eyes. Mouth firm. Jaw set. But her breaths are coming in too fast for it to be just that one emotion. There’s more and I can’t decipher it.
“Rico,” she says my name almost pleadingly. This time it cracks. Her hand clutches her throat.
I remove my hands. Yet I can still feel her flesh beneath my fingertips. They leave embers. Embers waiting to be stoked by the touch of her once more.
What is this damn feeling? And why is she the only one to evoke them?
“Your bedroom is the first door on the right with an en-suite bathroom,” I tell her.
With a slight jerk of her head she hobbles down the hallway. Never once does she stop to take in her new surroundings. She keeps her head down.
The sour taste returns in my mouth tenfold.
I keep my eye on her until she enters the room. I expect to hear the door slam shut, but the light illuminates into the hallway.
I don’t know what that means and I feel far too exhausted to try and figure it out.
Lazily, I walk over to the couch and allow myself to sink into it. I hang my head on the back of it and expel a long breath.
Fuck, what have I gotten myself into?
Kicking my legs wide and spreading them out I run an exhausted hand down my face. Sleep will do me good. Perhaps when I wake up tomorrow I’ll have all the answers I’m searching for. Maybe when I wake up this hyper fixation with her will be long gone.
You can tell a lie so much that it becomes the truth.
And as I hear the shower running from the door being open I tell myself another lie.
La mia gazzella means nothing to me.
How long must I repeat it for it to become the truth?
CHAPTER 17
