"I'm not brave," I finally whisper. "I'm terrified."
"You're the bravest person I've ever met." He turns back to face me. "You packed a go-bag. You timed your escape routes. You kept going to work, kept studying, kept fighting even when you knew they were coming for you. That's not fear, Ava. That's grit."
Tears blur my vision. I've spent four weeks feeling like a coward, like someone who should have run when she had the chance. Hearing him call me brave breaks something inside me.
"I don't want to be here," I say, even as I know it's a lie.
"Yes, you do." He closes in on me again, but this time he doesn't touch me, just stands close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body. "Part of you does, anyway. The part that's tired of looking over your shoulder all the time. The part that wants someone strong enough to protect you, even if that someone is a monster."
"You're not a monster." The words slip out before I can stop them, and his eyes widen slightly.
"Don't lie to yourself, Ava. I am exactly what you think I am."
"No." I shake my head. "A monster wouldn't have promised to protect my mother and sister. A monster wouldn't care that I want to finish school. A monster wouldn't look at me like..." I trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence.
"Like what?" he probes, and my pulse rate kicks up a notch.
"Like I'm the only thing that matters."
The silence that follows is heavy, charged with a dangerous current of electricity.
"You are," he finally says. "You're the only thing that matters now."
All I can think about is how his lips felt on mine, how his hands felt when they were gripping me, how for the first time in four weeks, I felt safe.
"I need..." I don't even know what I need. Sleep, maybe. Or food. Or just a moment to process everything that's happened. "I don't even know." I let out a sigh and shake my head. “Could I take a shower, please, and get out of my work clothes?”
He nods, immediately shifting into action mode. "There's a bathroom through there." He points to a door off the living room. "Towels are in the cabinet. I'll order food. What do you like?"
The mundane question throws me. "Um. Anything? I'm not picky."
"Ava." He waits until I meet his eyes. "Tell me what you like."
It feels like a test. Like he's asking about more than just food.
"Italian," I say quietly. "I love Italian food."
"Italian it is." He pulls out his phone. "Go. Take a shower. I'll have food here by the time you're done."
I grab my duffel and head toward the bathroom, but pause at the door. "Renat?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
He looks at me like I just said something in a foreign language. "For what?"
"For not..." I struggle to find the words. "For not making this worse than it has to be."
Something flickers across his face. Acceptance, maybe. Or regret.
"Go, Ava," he says softly. "Before I change my mind about being gentle with you."
I flee into the bathroom and lock the door behind me.
The bathroom is obscenely luxurious. Marble everywhere, a shower that could fit four people, a bathtub with jets that looks more like a small pool. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and barely recognize the wild-eyed person staring back at me.
My hair is a mess. My cheap uniform shirt is stained. My eyes are red-rimmed from crying. I look exactly like what I am, a woman who's been kidnapped by the mafia.
