Page 25 of Lily

When he slid his hand around to her cheek, she set hers on top of his. “I can’t stop shaking.”

He scooted closer. “Deep breaths.”

“Do you have another blanket?”

“Of course.” He sat up, reached for the end of the bed, and pulled another cover over her. “Better?”

She nodded. “Maybe.” She bit her lip, trying not to cry. The waterworks were starting again.

“It’s okay to cry, sweetheart. Go ahead. I know you’re stressed to the point of snapping. Let it out.”

Silent tears fell down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and let them. “So tired.”

“Sleep, sweetheart.” He leaned forward and kissed her temple. “If you get scared and I’m not here, call out. I’ll be close by.”

She let out a long sigh. She felt safe for the first time in eight months. Even if it wasn’t real and she was dreaming, she still felt safe enough to rest.

Chapter Ten

Stefano waited until her body fully relaxed in sleep before he gently rose from the bed. He wished he could crawl under the covers and sleep like the dead with her, but there was too much to do. He didn’t want to let his guard down until they were out of the city.

Working quickly and efficiently, he opened his laptop, found a company that rented cabins and showed plenty of availability, and wrote down the address. He thought it would be best if they just showed up. Making a reservation would leave a paper trail. He didn’t want anyone to find them.

Next, he grabbed two suitcases and filled them with clothes and toiletries. He always kept plenty of cash on hand. He took it out of the safe and put it in his satchel with his computer, chargers, and an eReader.

Roselia had always had her head in a book. He’d buy her whatever she wanted and load it to the device. Maybe it would help occupy her mind as she worked through the trauma.

You are not even close to being qualified to handle her emotional turmoil.

He told himself that, but he wasn’t willing to share her whereabouts with another living soul yet, so she was stuck with him as her doctor and counselor for now.

When he was done packing and had everything piled by the door, he sat on the edge of the bed and let himself stare at her. Her face had finally relaxed in sleep. She was so fucking beautiful. It had been difficult for him to force himself not to react to the six welts on her body.

Fuck Leo Vanderbilt. Who the fuck did he think he was?

Stefano had a billion questions. He’d wanted to rapid-fire them at Roselia, but that hadn’t been an option. She was traumatized. He couldn’t even fathom what she’d been through, and it killed him.

Stefano tried to work through the facts, but what he knew made him cringe, and what he didn’t know made him want to run into the bathroom and vomit.

Worse things have happened to me, Stefano…

Those words echoed in his head over and over. “What have you survived, sweetheart?” he whispered under his breath. He wanted to know everything. He wanted her to be able to unload her burdens on him. But could he listen to her without reacting violently? And what would keep him from sneaking out at night and killing a few people with his bare hands?

He’d met Leo before. He was a friend of Santo’s. He’d been to the house a few times. Fucking asshole had obvious health issues. Stefano was pretty sure the guy had had at least one heart attack. He shuffled around as though he was eighty when really Stefano was pretty certain he was in his mid-sixties.

Stefano ran a hand down his face. He needed to stay calm, let her unload at her pace, hold her when she cried, and wipe her tears. He wouldn’t rush her, but he did need to know if there was any chance she could be pregnant or if she’d been exposed to any STDs.

“Fuck,” he muttered almost too loudly. The thought of Leo or any other asshole raping her made Stefano sick to his stomach. How many men had violated his sweet girl?

It wouldn’t change anything. He was half in love with her. Or was he all the way in love with her? He wouldn’t let anything that had happened to her before him into their bedroom. He’d do everything humanly possible to erase the bad and replace it with gentle kindness.

It was possible she’d been so traumatized from being taken against her will that she wouldn’t want him to touch her. She was so nonchalant about her nudity. It shocked and unnerved him. It meant there was every chance she’d been naked a lot in the past eight months, so much so that she was desensitized to the notion.

Her body… Fuck, she was even more gorgeous than he’d imagined. Every inch of her was perfection. The only thing that had kept him from losing himself and dropping to his knees to worship her had been the seriousness of the situation. His cock had managed to stay under control for the last few hours because he’d been all business. Breaking and entering. Scaling walls. Rescuing the woman he couldn't get out of his mind.

The fucking welts made him wince. It had been difficult to remain calm and detached while he’d put ointment on them. They would heal. They only looked so bad because they were recent. They hadn’t broken the skin. She’d be uncomfortable tomorrow, but she was right. By this time tomorrow night, they would have faded enough that she could sit on them without too much discomfort.

He glanced at his watch. It was five in the morning. She’d only been asleep a few hours. He wished he could let her rest for ten more, but he didn’t want to risk someone looking for them.

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