“I brought you something to eat.”
“Gio, please.” I hate the sound of my own voice right now. “My father…”
He takes a deep breath, placing the bag beside me. He squats so he’s not looming over me.
“What did he do?” I ask.
“He’s responsible for my parents’ deaths. It’s a long story. But you understand now why there’s debt between us.”
My father killed his parents? Oh, my God. No. Would he want me dead in some kind of quid pro quo? Is the money just a bonus? Any kind of relief I felt at Gio’s presence evaporates. He has good reason to want me to suffer.
“I’m sorry.” I manage to squeeze it out.
His entire body tenses again, and he flexes his hands into fists. His mouth is a hard line.
“I don’t want this, but I have to protect my family. I promise I’ll do whatever I can to get you out of this safely,” he says. “It’ll be easiest if your father cooperates.”
He won’t, though. But it’s not worth saying.
I look up at his handsome face as I tremble in his shirt.
“I’m scared.”
It’s humiliating to admit, but I’ll never forget the look on Lorenzo’s face as he came at me. Never. I’ll never forget the terror of knowing his intention and knowing there was nothing I could do about it.
“I know you are,” he says, his voice gentle. He reaches up to touch my hair but moves his hand back. “I’m sorry, Catriona. I’ll make sure Lorenzo doesn’t bother you again.”
I want to believe he can do that, but I’m not so sure. He gets up to leave and looks back at me.
“Eat something if you can and get some rest. I’ll be back to check on you.”
He leaves, and I pick up the bag. It’s a giant Italian sub. I’m not generally squeamish about food, but the rush of meat and condiments in this hot space makes my stomach roil. I fold the bag back up and push it aside. I should get some more water, but fear and stress have left me exhausted.
What’s going to happen to me? None of the available outcomes seem good.
Especially if the best option is relying on my father having any love at all in his heart for me.
He doesn’t.
He never has.