Page 98 of Take Me Under

I didn’t respond. In truth, I didn’t know how to.

So, I just waited for the horrors of the past to loosen its grip, grateful that Serena still wanted to stay in the same room with the man it had shaped.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Serena

When I entered the lobby of Anton’s hotel in Lucca, my shoes echoed on the marble floors as I made my way to the concierge desk. I adjusted the purse slung over my shoulder, noting that it was dusted with specks of glass from my day in the studio. I absently brushed them away, distracted by the turn of events from the day, as well as what had happened over the weekend with Anton in Florence.

It had been a productive day in my workshop. The piece I had been working on for the gallery was coming together, the delicate curves finally taking form to my satisfaction. So lost in the craft, I’d worked straight through dinner and hadn’t even noticed. If it hadn’t been for my mother bringing me a porchetta panini, I would have skipped the meal altogether.

Just as I finished eating, my phone pinged with an email notification. It was from General Directorate of Archaeology informing me that there was another delay with the permits forthe excavation in Rome. From that point on, any happiness I’d felt over the progress I’d made with the swan fell to the wayside.

At first, the bureaucratic red tape had seemed typical. There always seemed to be another obstacle to navigate. But now? Now, it felt intentional. The excuse for the delay didn’t make sense. They were taking issue with the budget plan, citing logistical errors and reevaluations of excavation boundaries. However, nothing had changed. All we needed was a renewal for something that had already been approved. I knew what I was dealing with when it came to Italian institutions, but this felt like sabotage.

The thought left a sour taste in my mouth as I stepped up to the concierge desk. The man behind it recognized me and offered me a polite smile. Leading me to the private elevator, he pressed the button that would grant access to the penthouse.

“Buonasera, Signorina,” he said smoothly, moving aside as the sleek doors slid open.

I nodded my thanks and stepped into the elevator. The moment the doors sealed shut, I leaned against the wall and sighed, my thoughts shifting away from problems in Rome and back to Anton. I thought about our time at the club, and then to the sexy interlude at the hotel. It was the most erotic experience I’d ever had. But mostly, I thought about the way things had shifted after his nightmare.

I recalled the way he had sat on the edge of the bed with his head and his hands. At that moment, I’d just wanted to take away his pain. I had put up a strong front, knowing he just needed me to listen and understand. But the reality was, his actions had terrified me.

The raw terror of waking up to Anton’s arm pressing against my neck wasn’t something I’d soon forget. The sheer weight of him had rendered me immobile, and for a split second, I couldn’t breathe. But it wasn’t just the pressure on my neck that had shaken me—it was the look in his eyes. He was wild. Unseeing.It was as if he wasn’t even in the room with me but trapped somewhere else.

Even after he let me go and realization dawned in his features, the fear of what had happened lingered in his expression. I’d seen fear before, but not like that. This was deep-seeded fear, clawing its way out of his past and into the present.

PTSD, maybe.

But he had brushed it off as if it were nothing. It was possible he had childhood trauma buried so deep he couldn’t acknowledge it.

However, his actions afterward proved that it hadn’t been nothing. He’d shut down, putting up walls that I’d never before seen from him. Our last night in Florence had been tense, filled with unspoken words and unanswered questions. We’d had sex, but it was far from the mind-blowing experience I’d had with him the night before. The act felt more like something we had to do rather than wanted to do.

Now that we were back in Lucca, and I was given a bit of time alone to think things through, I hoped that I could get him to open up a little more. We had planned to go for drinks at a neighborhood bar just down the street from his hotel, but I was beginning to think it was better for us to stay in. It would be more private. I didn’t want this tension between us, but I wasn’t sure if Anton was ready to be pushed.

The elevator opened, and I crossed the narrow hallway to knock on the door to Anton’s penthouse suite. My pulse thrummed against my ribs, the emotions from the weekend pressing down on me as the questions I’d been holding in threatened to spill out before I even saw him.

The door swung open, and there he stood, looking slightly disheveled in the most devastating way. His slacks hung low on his hips, and his black dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top. He’d rolled his sleeves to his forearms, revealing ridges of toned muscles. Five o’clock shadow dusted his jaw, adding to therugged edge that made him impossibly handsome. His hair was mussed, like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. And those onyx eyes, piercing and assessing, seemed to look straight through to my soul.

“Serena,” he said, his voice low and unreadable. He was always so composed and in control.

I stepped inside, suddenly feeling unsteady now that I was here, but I pushed through it.

“I know we’re supposed to go out,” I began. “But I thought we could stay in and talk for a bit first. Maybe grab a drink a little later. I want to discuss what happened this past weekend.”

I turned to face him as he shut the door, my throat tightening at the way his unmoving gaze locked on me. He appeared to be waiting, yet his expression gave nothing away.

“What’s there to talk about?” he finally asked.

“I need to understand, Anton.” My voice was softer now, but still firm. “You pinned me down, choking me in your sleep. And when I looked up at you, I saw something I’ve never seen before. It was like you weren’t even there. Like you didn’t know it was me. We can’t just pretend that didn’t happen.”

His jaw clenched.

I took a step closer, placing my hand on his arm. “Do you know what it felt like to wake up like that? Unable to move?” My voice wavered, but I steadied it before continuing. “I should have expressed my concerns that night, but I played it off because my instinct was to make sure you were okay. The reality is, I was scared. The next day, I thought we’d talk about it more and my fears would ease. But you shut down and I didn’t want to push you.”

“And now it’s okay to push?” he questioned, his tone cool and detached. His hands curled into fists at his sides, but his breathing was measured and controlled. That only made my frustration grow.

“I had a night alone to think about things.” I bit down on mylower lip, then caught myself. I didn’t want him to know I was nervous. “I can’t continue this way without knowing if there’s an underlying issue that might cause something like that to happen again.”

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