Page 7 of Sweet Retribution

“Stone?” His name comes out as a rough whisper.

“I’m here.”

“Stone,” I cry. My tears soak the front of his shirt. I’m not dreaming. He really did save me.

“You’re safe.”

His words wrap around me like a blanket and I sink into his warmth. His arms tighten around me as his lips press a kiss against my temple.

I have to be dreaming.

“You’re not dreaming. You’re safe, baby,” he says as if reading my thoughts.

Or maybe I spoke them out loud. It doesn’t matter. I allow myself to drown in the comfort of his touch. To hold on to him literally and figuratively. The sweet kiss and gentle words that he brushes across my forehead reach deep to my core and make my heart beat in a peaceful rhythm.

“Don’t leave me,” I whisper as I fall into a deep sleep.

The next time I wake, I’m alone. The bed is cool where Stone had been. Or had I dreamt it all?

I bury my head into the pillow and breathe in his scent. He was here. I’m safe. I’m clothed. When my eyes adjust to the dimness in the room, I slide out from the warm blankets and use the adjoining bathroom.

I avoid turning on the light or looking at my reflection in the mirror. When I return to the bedroom, Stone is standing by the bed with a tray of food.

“You need to eat.” His voice is gruff, not soothing like I’d been dreaming about, or possibly really hearing for the past few days. Or weeks? I have no idea how long I was held hostage or how long ago Stone rescued me.

I want to go to him and lean on him, rest my head on his chest and feel the comfort of his arms around me. Feel his kiss on my temple. Hear him call mebaby.

Stone is different. Standoffish, which isn’t so different than he was before... before we had sex. I don’t have the energy to call him on the change. I go to the bed and slide between the covers, and prop myself up against the headboard.

He lifts the tray and settles it on my lap. I pick up the bowl of berries first, select a blueberry, and pop it in my mouth. The sweetness has me sighing in near ecstasy. I eat a blackberry, then a raspberry, not stopping until the bowl is empty.

Stone hands me a glass of water, which I finish without coming up for air. I hand him the empty glass and pick up the sandwich. Turkey, cheese, lettuce, and tomato. Simple and yet incredibly delicious.

I’m starving, but I can only eat a few bites before my stomach resists. I set the rest of the sandwich down and lean back against the headboard. Stone hands me another glass of water and takes the tray away, setting it on the side table.

“Make sure to finish this soon.” He turns to leave and I sit up straight.

“Stone.” He stops but doesn’t turn around. “Thank you.”

The movement is slight, but I pick up on it nonetheless. There is a slight hesitation before he continues to the door and leaves. What happened to the sweet, sensitive Stone who cared for me, nursed me back to health?

I lift the glass to my lips, stopping midway when I notice the gauze around my wrists. I have questions, so many questions, but I’m too afraid to hear the answers. I roll my ankles and wince at the pain.

I’m a little sore between my legs, nothing compared to the first time Stone and I had sex. I clench my teeth and wince. No, I won’t compare our first time to what Antonio may have done to me. I need answers. Sooner rather than later.

Actually, now. It’s the only way to heal. Finishing my water, I survey the room. It isn’t as bright as it was earlier when I woke up in Stone’s arms.

I have no idea where I am or who is in the house with me, other than Stone. I swing my legs off the bed, careful not to bump my ankles against anything, and cross the room to the door. The hallway is dark but the rooms at the end are lit. Deep voices reverberate off the walls, and I follow the noise to the living room.

As soon as I come into view, the talking stops. I scan the room. Tio, Lucca, and Marco sit on chairs around a coffee table and look up at me, their faces somber. Regret, worry, and protectiveness fill their gazes. Stone, who sits on the sofa by himself, doesn’t turn my way.

A laptop and an array of papers are strewn across the table. Stone shuffles them around and puts them in a manilla folder.

Lucca stands and makes his way over to me. I lean against the wall for support, my legs weak and wobbly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep you safe, Gia.” His blue eyes are remorseful, his lip turns down in a frown. The guilt he’s been carrying since my kidnapping is evident in his slumped shoulders and nervous twitch in his hands.

“It’s not your fault, Lucca.” I squeeze his forearm.

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