And I have nothing to say to her.Because she’s right.And she’s right to hate me.
But it doesn’t make me want her in my life and for my own any less.
Chapter51
GIANNA
I’d be lyingif I didn’t feel a surge of childlike happiness as we flew over the Hollywood sign, or that I didn’t get a tinge of wonder as we disembarked, the sprawling city of Angels spread out before us like a blanket of twinkling lights.Like the blanket you pull over yourself as you get cozy in front of a TV to watch movies for the rest of the night.
I used to do that all the time back in my old life.Used to love it and crave it.
But in my new life, my sister is dying and I’m the prisoner of a man I love and hate in equal measure.I’ll never be free of him.His influence, his power over me.The way his kisses and caresses make me feel alive, even while he’s offering nothing but death.
I am the only one who can save my family now.Can’t save myself, it’s too late for that.But I can help keep my father out of harm’s way, keep him alive so he can rescue my sister if she makes it.Then they can all live.
I brought this monster into our lives.
I have to take him out.
I’ve been dwelling on this plan since I learned that Chiara’s condition worsened and all the way to the mansion where we are now.It’s just as big as Ferro’s mansion back in New York, but softer somehow, lighter, airer.Probably just because it’s all white and light grey.If I was the old me, I could get used to living here.The view is of the ocean that sparkles even in the dead of night, and even though the house itself smells like no one’s aired it out in years, I like it.
But I don’t like anything anymore.
He didn’t lock me up when we got here.Didn’t confine me to a room like back in New York.
He tried to kiss me in the huge bedroom with a huge bed in the center of it.But I ignored him so completely that he gave up.
Then I lay down in the bed, turned so that I could watch the ocean and ignored him even harder.
He’s sleeping beside me now, lying on his back, the bed so large I don’t even feel him in it with me.Don’t feel his warmth, and the sunshine that is always in his eyes never shines when he’s asleep.
His knife was on the bedside table, next to his watch and a glass of water.
It’s in my hand now, the handle hot from gripping it so tight and for so long.
I know exactly where I have to plunge it in to pierce his heart.A small rose, partially covered by a tattoo of a gravestone with an angel sitting atop it.An angel with her head bent.The moonlight illuminates his skin perfectly, shows me all the death he carries with him, inside and outside.Tells me he craves death for himself too.
My hand is shaking hard as I raise the knife.
And all the ways I could never plunge it into his skin flood me as he opens his eyes.He is the one who gave my life light, gave me something to look forward to.He and I, we make magic.He owns my heart, sad and broken as it is.And I own his.Black and broken as it is.
Moonlight makes his eyes glow like the sun, but the heat of his gaze is all his own.And all for me.
He grabs my wrist, points the knife I’m holding away from himself, but doesn’t take it from me as he pins me down against the bed, the glow in his eyes growing hotter and brighter.
His grip hurts, his weight on me hurts, but not as badly as the pain in his eyes hurts.
“Like this?You?”he says, clearly having trouble saying what he’s thinking.“I never would’ve believed it.”
I understand him perfectly even when he’s not making any sense.It’s our bond.Our magic.That’s why.
“Believe it,” I say.“You made me love you.But then you took everything away from me.My home, my family, you made me your prisoner.And now you want to take what’s left to feed your war, your revenge.You want to die anyway.”
The look in his eyes is unrecognizable even to me now.But it’s as hot as a nuclear blast.
He rips the knife from my hand and releases me, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to me.
I sit up and see him looking at the knife in his hand like he’s seeing it for the first time.
