“I’ll be back in a minute. Berto needs my help in the garage.” Sante stood from the couch. We’d been watching the most recent James Bond release together.
I pointed at the TV with raised brows.
“Don’t worry about pausing it. No clue how long I’ll be.” He rolled his eyes, then left the room.
I decided I wasn’t in a hurry, so I paused the movie anyway. I was more interested in hanging out with my brother than watching the show. The house seemed extra quiet after the explosion-filled action movie was silenced. So quiet that I almost jumped out of my skin when a knock sounded on the front door.
Defaulting to a time when I wasn’t under constant surveillance, I jumped from the couch and hurried to the front door but stilled before opening it. My father was out for the evening, but I knew he’d probably have a fit if he found out I’d opened the door with no one around. But then again, the guys were in the garage. Was I just supposed to ignore whoever had come by? I couldn’t exactly yell through the door for them to wait.
I would have pulled up the security camera footage on my app, but I’d been stripped of my access months ago. I decided to take a chance and peek through the curtain covering the window beside the door. I couldn’t see much off to the side, but it was enough when I spotted a familiar ring brandishing a Celtic knot on a masculine hand inked with a black rose. Conner was here.
Without overthinking it, I slipped outside and grabbed his wrist, tugging him away from the entrance and around the corner to a spot where I remembered the cameras didn’t quite reach.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed at him in the dark, suddenly realizing he could have stopped by for my father and not me. After his surprise appearance at the restaurant the day before, I’d worried he had only one thing on his mind, and it wasn’t business.
“I wasn’t aware I had to explain myself to you.” He leaned forward menacingly.
Not in the mood to be intimidated, I crossed my arms over my chest and realized I wasn’t wearing a bra under my thin nightshirt. I tried not to let my fluster show. “I suppose not, so long as that little rule works both ways,” I shot back haughtily.
His lips twisted in a wickedly vicious grin. He reached a hand slowly to the hem of my pajama shirt, twirling his finger until the fabric twisted around the digit, then tugged me toward him. “Nice try, but no. That’s not at all how this works. In fact, you already owe me one explanation, at least. I don’t care if you never speak to another living soul, but my mother tells me you were still silent at the shower today, and I want to know why.”
Had he told his mom I could speak? Would word get around if he had? Shit. I needed more time.
“I just need to figure out how to explain things to my father. Once he knows I can talk, he’ll want to know why I didn’t before. I don’t want him making any assumptions.” More accurately, he’d want to know why I’d chosen to speak now. If I could manage to stay silent until the wedding, maybe I could sneak away and tell Uncle Donati everything I knew.
Yeah, and then what happens to Sante?
Ugh! I needed to come up with a plan. Dad needed to pay for what he did, but I couldn’t risk losing my brother in the process. I was faced with the same damn problem every time. What if I couldn’t protect Sante? What if the only way to stop my dad meant risking losing my brother forever?
I could hardly stomach the possibility.
“What is there to explain?” Conner asked, cutting into my internal argument. “You were processing your mother’s death … unless it’s more complicated than that?”
God, he needs to stop!
I felt frustrated and trapped. Adding to my mounting need to lash out, the words from the catty bathroom queen floated back to me. Demure mute. Never satisfy him.
I stepped an inch closer and lifted my chin defiantly. “Sometimes people are complicated. Like a man who chose a mute bride, presumably so he didn’t have to acknowledge her existence, yet for some reason, he keeps showing up everywhere she’s at.” I took another small step. The heat of his chest pulled at my pebbled nipples, the fabric of my T-shirt just grazing him enough to shoot tiny bolts of lightning to my core.
The sensation of standing up to him made me breathless and dizzy in the best way. I never could have stood up to my father like this, but with Conner, I felt bold. Empowered.
If I dissected my behavior, I might have discovered the root of my confidence anchored in a sense of safety, but I didn’t care to go there. Treating Conner as the enemy was the only way to guard my heart against him.
Every ounce of blue drained from his eyes as he forced my back against the wall, his hard body pressed into mine. “For someone who didn’t want to speak, you sure have a lot of opinions.” The rough edges of his voice scraped across my skin.
“For a man, you’re awfully observant.” A low blow, but I was running out of retorts.
“And for someone who wants to be left alone, you sure have on tiny shorts.”
My lips opened and closed like a fish out of water as his rough fingertips grazed slowly up my left thigh beneath the fabric of my pajama shorts to the lace edge of my panties near my hip bone. I couldn’t breathe more than the tiniest pants of air. My lungs, along with the rest of my body, were frozen in concentration, consumed with where his fingers might go next.
He lifted the elastic edge of my panties to slide the tip of one finger beneath, his eyes gleaming at my gasped response. With the measured calm of a practiced tactician, he slowly slid the finger down along the stretched fabric. My mind sparked and sputtered at the uncertainty of how far he might go, but as he reached the front of me, inches away from my slit, he slipped from beneath the baby blue lace and instead left a trail of embers like a comet’s tail down my thigh before severing our connection.
“You shouldn’t be alone in the dark with a man you hardly know.” His voice had gone guttural, raw and wanting. The sound tugged at the deep ache he’d stirred between my legs.
“Will you give me that same warning on our wedding night? I doubt we’ll know each other any better by then.” I wanted to sound formidable, but every word was more breathless than the last.
His answering look was positively savage. “When I can smell your pussy dripping with need? I don’t think so. Now get back inside before I decide to take what’s already mine.”
His filthy words grated against my skin and heated me from the inside out. I’d never heard someone speak to me with such crude irreverence, and I was ashamed of how desperate I was for more.
I whirled away from the wall and scurried back to the front entrance. When I opened the giant metal door, my mind a cyclone of emotions, I stuttered to a stop at the sight of Sante. He stood in the entry frozen mid step, his narrowed glare sliding from me to a spot over my shoulder. A quick glance confirmed it was Conner’s retreating form in the distance that had stoked my brother’s temper. I slammed the door shut and hurried over to him, tugging him into the living room where I had a pen and paper.
He just wanted to ask me a quick question, and you were busy with Umberto. I explained, my words almost illegible after rushing to get them on paper.
“You shouldn’t have been outside with him alone, Noemi. Especially considering how you’re dressed. Jesus, what if he’d hurt you?” His teen emotions and protective instincts quickly brewed a storm inside him.
He’ll be my husband in just over a week. I pointed out with a surge of anger, then chided myself. I needed to defuse the situation, not pick a fight.
“Yeah, and if he took advantage of you, then backed out of the arrangement—what then?”
I wanted to rage at him that if he thought Conner was such a creep, he shouldn’t sit by while Dad married me off to the man. But I knew Sante had just as little say in the matter as I did.
Nothing happened. There’s no reason to get upset, okay? I’m fine. I peered at him pleadingly, then motioned to the living room. When he just stood there, brows furrowed, I took his hand and pulled him to the couch. He let me drag him but begrudgingly.
We returned to our movie, though he never fully relaxed next to me. An hour later, we were interrupted by the sounds of my father returning home. I sat up and slowly turned to peer at my brother, wary of what I might find. As I suspected, the severe cut of his jaw and harsh draw of his brows told me everything I needed to know. He planned to tell my father about Conner’s visit.
I shook my head, small jerky movements, wordlessly pleading.
His lips only thinned with resigned determination as he stood. The clacking of my father’s dress shoes counted down the seconds like the ticking of a bomb.
“You two and those action movies. Don’t you get sick of them?” Dad grumbled, taking the lid off a crystal decanter and pouring himself two fingers of scotch.
“Just killing time,” Sante said, his voice losing its familiar boyishness. “We had a visitor tonight.”
Dad’s eyes cut to my brother, then slid to me. I remained motionless on the couch, hoping beyond hope I’d finally learned to become invisible.
“Reid came by. I’d gone with Umberto to the garage to help him install that new temperature gauge.” He paused, his gaze briefly straying to mine with a glint of apology that quickly faded into harsh resolve. “Noemi answered the door and spoke with him outside.”
My father went eerily still. When his gaze cut to me, the fury in his eyes leached him of all humanity. My queasy stomach now roiled angrily, pressing dangerously high in my throat.
All thoughts of his drink forgotten, Dad prowled toward me.
“Nothing happened, but I thought you should know. That’s all,” Sante added as though a sudden bout of conscience had him backpedaling.
Dad ignored him completely. When he was close enough to tower over me, he struck quick as a snake, grabbing my wrist and yanking me to my feet. “Did you let him fucking touch you?” Irate spittle dotted my face, veins bulging in my father’s forehead. He was as angry as I’d ever seen him, and it terrified me.
I shook my head frantically, the bones in my wrist screaming in agony as he crushed them together.
“That’s all I need is for you to ruin this by letting him fuck you before the wedding, giving him reason to back out.”
Again, all I could do was shake my head and pray he believed me.
“Don’t you ever pull that shit again, you hear me?” He brought his cheek to mine, his next words for my ears only. “You fuck this up, and it won’t be quick like your mother. I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.” He pulled back, and the demented rage in his black stare sealed his murderous promise.
I nodded through tear-filled eyes and tugged away from him, the need to escape clawing at my every fiber. He finally relented.
I rushed from the room, passing Sante on the way, unable to look him in the face. I knew my disappointment and resentment would shine through, but I also knew none of this was entirely his fault. He was just a boy, no matter how manly he now looked. A pawn in our father’s sadistic games.
I’d thought I hated the man when I was younger for never being present, but I hadn’t even known what hate was. Now, I was intimately acquainted with the emotion. Hate blistered a scorching path in my veins and flayed me open from the inside. Fausto Mancini was a poison, determined to destroy me, one way or another.
