Page 66 of Maddest Temptation

“You shouldn’t have come,” she said again.

“It doesn’t matter,” I stated. “I’m here now.”

Gently, I reached out for her. Placing two fingers under her chin, I turned her face toward me. Francesca did not meet my eyes.

That’s when I saw it.

I inhaled deeply; seeing nothing but red. Francesca moved away from my touch like she was ashamed. Her left cheek was bruised and scratched.

“Who. Touched. You?” Were the only words I could conjure.

Francesca looked at me then, her big sapphire eyes filled with more unshed tears. I fisted my hands as my blood ran hot in my veins. Someone had touched Francesca. Someone was going to die.

“I’m not worth your problems.” Her voice was weak. Defeated.

Shit.

That hit me hard. Right to the chest, worse than a bullet wound. I reached for her again and this time Francesca didn’t flinch, which was a fucking miracle. Sometimes I wished her husband was still alive, only so I could torture him for what he did to her.

I grabbed her hand, she stared at it like it was the strangest thing I’d ever done. “Let’s go. I’m taking you home.”

Francesca followed me back to the car and when I closed her door, I took a deep breath before entering as well. She didn’t complain when I said I was taking her to my place. Instead, Francesca remained quiet, staring out the window.

Once we arrived at my apartment, she looked so small and thin. Vulnerable. She was breathing hard and kept on digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

“Come.” I helped her toward the room she had slept in the last time she’d been here, and guided her to the bathroom.

I turned on the light and quickly headed back to my room where I kept the first aid kit. When I returned, Francesca was staring at her hands which were still shaking.

Placing the kit on the counter beside her, I warned her before moving closer to her. “I’m going to lift you up.” I placed my hands on her soft curves.

Francesca sucked in a breath, but it had nothing to do with fear—I hoped. She had removed my jacket, her skin was still cold, but a spark traveled through my body. When I glanced up at her, she was watching me as well.

“You can let go now,” she said gently.

“Yeah.” I looked at my hand and fought to tear it away from her. Then I set out to do what I had planned. “This is going to hurt.”

“I’m used to it,” she scoffed.

“Well, you shouldn’t be.” I picked up the towel and placed it under the faucet.

“After a while you learn to ignore it,” Francesca said simply like it was perfectly normal. She sucked in a deep breath as I placed the towel against her cheek, but then she relaxed.

“I should have killed him.” I said to myself.

“You shouldn’t have let me marry him in the first place,” she said but there was no anger in her voice, just resignation.

Francesca was right, I shouldn’t have let her marry him. I should never have let her go, but it had been my only choice. I couldn’t marry her, doing so would only lead to more sorrow and pain.

I wasn’t myself back then. I was nothing but a drunk who couldn’t even recall his own name. After Arabella died, I lost myself and, in the process, lost Francesca, too. I thought I was saving her from me, from the monster I became. When I finally had the courage to fight my demons and realized that breaking up with her had been the worst mistake of my life, it was already too late—she’d married Paolo.

I wiped away the dried blood, the wound was nothing of great concern, but I applied some antiseptic and then a band-aid. She looked so breakable, like glass, and it scared me because I had the power to break her.

“I’ll get you some painkillers.”

“No,” she grabbed my hand. “No pills.”

“It might not be hurting now, but tomorrow it will.”

---