Page 13 of Wild Card

He gives the older man a tremendous shove and watches him scramble down the stairs. Gio turns to me.

“Are you hurt?” His eyes are wild and angry. “Well?”

I’m so fucking scared. I’ve never been this fucking scared in my life. Not even shoved in the trunk of that fucking car. Like many women, I’ve endured harassment, but never rape. I try to pull the shreds of my dress together, but my hands won’t stop shaking.

Gio storms over, and I’m ashamed of the strangled cry I let out.

He holds up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m pissed at him, not you.”

“But he hurt me,” I whimper, any shred of dignity gone. “And you let him.” I don’t know why I say the second part, but some piece of me believed Gio’s earlier bluster about not hurting women. It’s hard to believe I can cry, dehydrated as I am, but tears wash down my cheeks as I try to cover myself. I never wanted to feel this vulnerable. Never.

He shoves a hand through his thick hair and takes in my disheveled appearance. He curses in Italian under his breath and starts undoing the buttons on his shirt.

I didn’t expect him to pick up where Lorenzo left off.

“Please, no,” I whimper. “Don’t.” I can’t believe I’m begging again. First begging him to keep me safe from Lorenzo, and now begging him not to hurt me. I’d always held onto my pride to give me strength through hard times, but now I don’t even have that. It makes me feel even more vulnerable and alone.

Horror floods Gio’s face.

“Oh my God, Catriona, no. I wasn’t…I would never…Jesus I’m so sorry. I just wanted to give you something to cover up with.” His hands freeze on the buttons.

His response destroys any control I have.

Agonizing sobs wrack my body as I gasp for breath. People make all kinds of assumptions about me because I like to date and have fun. Call me all kinds of terrible names, my father included. I never wanted to settle down with any of the stodgy losers he chose for me, so everyone dismisses me as some kind of man-eating whore because I want more than a passionless existence with a cold man who keeps me in money but hits me when I talk back. I don’t want to be my mother. I just want to be free from angry, controlling, judgmental men, or social climbing cheaters who are only interested in what I can do for them.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be loved and cared for. I had always hoped someone would love me for who I am and want to keep me safe, like I was the treasure worth protecting instead of ambition or money. And now I might die on this stained, smelly mattress without anyone finding any kind of value in me.

A wash of emotions cross Gio’s face: guilt, definitely. Anger too, but mostly shame at what he’s allowed to happen.

I know he hates my father, but how could he excuse this? If he’s genuinely so disgusted by what Lorenzo tried to do right now, how could he participate in even the smallest way?

He sits on the bed next to me.

“I’m sorry for my uncle’s behavior,” he says. “Truly. I’m sorry he did this to you. It’s inexcusable, and I’ll make sure he pays for it, I promise you that.” He shakes his head. “I wish I could just let you go, but the man Lorenzo is working for…he’ll find you. You’ll never be safe again. Not unless the debt is settled. He’s an animal, Catriona, and I know it’s not right, but he sees you as belonging to him until he gets paid. And if I had the money, I’d just pay it off now.”

I take a shuddering breath. I don’t belong to anyone.

“What debt? Is it drugs?”

“My uncle owes three million dollars to a local mafia don,” he says. “His name is Freddie DeBaggis, and he’s very powerful. And frankly, after the display I just saw, if it were just Lorenzo’s problem, I’d take you home and deal with the repercussions. But Freddie won’t just hurt Lorenzo. He’ll hurt you and my grandmother too.”

He looks at me thoughtfully for a second.

“Why did you think it’s drugs?”

I’m shivering now, tears flowing freely down my face. It’s so hot in here. Why am I shivering?

“He was coked out,” I stammer. “Out of his mind.” An image of his filthy hands on my body flashes into my mind and sends a shudder of revulsion down my spine.

His expression changes to anger for just a moment, his gaze shifting above my head. Did he not know? He looks back at me and frowns at my shivering.

“May I?” he asks softly, indicating his shirt.

I nod and he undoes the rest of his buttons, draping it gently around me. He has a white t-shirt on underneath, and there’s an outline of a tattoo on his chest. He’s obviously strong, but will he be able to keep me safe? Would he even want to, given his enmity with my father? I curl into his shirt, pulling it tightly around my shoulders. It drowns me, and it feels good to not be hyper exposed anymore.

He stands up suddenly and heads for the door. In the doorframe, it’s easy to see how massive this man is. He’s probably bigger than my brother Patrick, who’s the tallest man I know. The tension ripples down his muscles as he reaches for something by the door.

He picks up a bag and carries it back to me.

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