Page 76 of Twisted Knight

She was sitting up in her bed, a book in her hands. When she saw me, she rested her book on her bed and smiled up at me.

“Dom, you’re up!”

The weight of apprehension eased a little bit on my chest; she seemed happy to see me.

“I’ve missed you,” I admitted, I was man enough to tell her that.

“I did too but I realized you needed your space.” She rested her hands on her lap, looking at me with her soulful eyes.

“I don’t need space, not from you, never from you.”

She patted the empty space beside her and my chest eased completely. I couldn’t help but marvel that after all of this, she still wanted me.

“How are you?” she asked after l settled beside her, my back against the headboard.

I followed her eyes to the bandage on my side. “Physically or mentally?”

She let out a little laugh. “Both, either, whatever you are ready to share.”

I grabbed her hand, intertwined our fingers together, and kissed the back of it. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, and I think you do.”

I sighed, resting my head on the headboard, looking at the ceiling.

“I love you,” I admitted, squeezing her hand tighter. “What happened didn’t change that; it made me love you even more if at all possible.”

“Okay?” She sounded so confused and how could she not be? I was confused as hell myself.

“But I can’t help but think that it’s going to be too much for you, that this life… You don’t deserve this life.”

“Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?”

I turned my head toward her. She was studying me, her mouth pursed. I had annoyed her; that much was clear.

“You should, of course you should. I would never take that choice away from you, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about at the cabin.”

She leaned against me, resting her head on my shoulder. “I’m here now; I’m listening.”

I leaned my cheek against the top of her head as apprehension on what I was about to do filled me. My past just resurfaced, and nothing guaranteed it would not come up again, and even if I hate that part of me, she had to get in this relationship with both eyes open.

“Maybe it’s a good thing I didn't get to speak with you that day because I wanted you to stay for the man I am now, and I realized that you can’t until you know the man I’ve been.”

She remained silent and I was somehow grateful that she did.

“I have no right to complain; I never had the right. I’m not trying to justify what I did or excuse what I did, what he made me do when I was thirteen. What he made me do that day, it didn't kill me, but part of me died that day and has been chipping away ever since.”

She squeezed my hand tightly, and it was my lifeline at this moment as I was about to dive in and share my darkest memories.

“The man who raised me, Sergio Romano, was not a good man. My mother was a call girl who he wanted and forced to marry.” I closed my eyes at the pain the memories caused. I was grateful India could not see my face right now. “He didn’t treat her well.” Understatement of the year. “And she ended up ending her life when I was still very young.” I instinctively wrapped my arm around India, pulling her closer to my body. Her presence alone made me feel better. “There are many rules in the Mafia, you see. Some are mandatory; others are more subtle, sort of guidelines… But my fa—” I stopped; he wasn’t my father.

“It’s okay to still see him as such. You believed he was your father for over thirty years.” She kissed my neck before settling quietly again with her head in the crook of my shoulder.

“He started to kidnap some women and sell them. Others—the younger ones—he was drugging them, making them addicts and placing them into underground sex clubs.” I couldn’t help the bile that rose up my throat. “Men always paid more for underage women. But virgins are a little too messy. Men are not keen on the blood so my father was enjoying breaking them and making me watch. It was what real men had to do, you know? Take what they wanted no matter what the woman wanted.” I took a deep breath as I was getting to the most horrible part of my history. “And then I turned thirteen and my father decided it was time for me to help in his mission. Her name was Emily; she was fifteen years old at the time, and my father gave me the choice—either I did it or he’d make his most monstrous man do it instead.” I stopped talking for a few seconds, trying to rein in the turmoil inside me.

She let go of my hand and wrapped her arm across my chest. I’d expected her to shy away from me in disgust once she realized the monstrous things I’d done.

I looked down at her arm around my body, her flawless skin that felt like silk across my calloused fingers. I trailed my fingers up her arm slowly, enjoying the feel of her skin. Touching her was something I knew I’d never get tired of.

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