Her eyes flash. “Is this funny to you?”
My smile disappears.
“You disappearing for eighteen months,” I say quietly, “with no one in your family knowing where you were, or willing to tell me, is not funny at all,dragunidda.”
Silence thickens between us.
And for the first time since I found her…
I let her see the part of me that did not come here for forgiveness.
Only for complete possession.
And a lot of payback for depriving me of what’s duly mine.
Lucia
“My family?”The words tumble out of me before I can stop them. “They’re… okay, right? You didn’t—” I choke on the rest.
Giovanni does not answer.
He stands close enough now that I can feel the heat of him through the air, his presence an undeniable weight pressing into my space. His hands come to rest on my arms instead.
Firm. Anchoring.
Then his thumbs rub slow, steady strokes up and down my chilled skin, coaxing warmth back into me whether I want it or not.
It should comfort me.
Instead it terrifies me.
“You didn’t,” I insist. “You didn’t do anything to them. Tell me.”
His gaze stays on my face, unreadable. “When was the last time you spoke to your uncles, Lucia?”
My pulse stutters. “That’s not an answer.”
“When,” he repeats softly.
I swallow. “A few months ago.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Did they know where you were?”
I shake my head slowly. “No. I didn’t tell anyone.” Not even my own blood.
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, eyes flicking away for a fraction of a second, calculation, not guilt. “So they told me the truth,” he murmurs.
“Which truth?” I demand. “That they didn’t know where I was, or that you terrified them into saying it?”
A corner of his mouth lifts faintly. “Both can be true.”
That answer lands like a stone in my chest. “I never knew you at all, did I?” I whisper.
Something flickers in his eyes then, not anger. Something closer to… disappointment.
