Page 52 of Tortured Hearts
“I know, but you have to believe me when I say this wholefiancéething is just a ploy to hide his real intentions.”
I don’t ask what those are. The truth is written all over his face.
“I’ve never in the past, nor do I now, have any feelings or intentions toward Cathalina Damiano,” he assures me vehemently. “I do, however, have a plan to get us both out of this. I’m just stalling until all the pieces fall into place.”
Damn him.Against my better judgment, I believe him.
“Now would probably be a great time toshare it.”
“I’m still working through the details,” he hedges, adding quickly, “but soon; I promise. I won’t let him hurt you. Trust me.”
There are a few awkward beats of silence where neither of us knows what to say. But then, I catch him staring at me, the fire in his eyes chilling me for all the wrong reasons. There’s more than desire behind that stare; there’s rage.
That’s the moment I know why he’s here.
“You know what Henry…” I draw in a stuttered breath, the words lodged somewhere between shame and regret. “I swear, I tried…”
He takes a firm hold of my shoulders. “Becca, look at me.”
Instead, I collapse against his chest with a shattered cry. His arms fold around in between sobs. “Where were you? I called for you, and you never came.”
Keeping one arm around my waist, he gently tips my chin. “Henry Saddler will never hurt you again.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Dead men commit no sins.”
My stomach lurches. “Gianni, did you…?”
“Not yet, but very fucking soon.” The cold delivery of his confession should appall me, but it doesn’t. I’m relieved.God, maybe my soul really is as dark as his.He traces the bruise on my cheek. “You know what happens to those who touch what’s mine.”
I wish I could tell him that violence won’t solve anything, but the woman who believed that perished in that office fire. This one, the one who was abducted, abused, and branded, craves the type of justice laws don’t provide.
“I don’t want to be afraid anymore, Gianni.”
“You don’t have to be. You’re so much stronger than you realize, butterfly. But until you find your way out of your jar, I’ll be your wings. I’ll be your sword.” His arms tighten around me. “I’llbloody my hands so you never have to.”
It’s exactly what I need to hear from him. Such a dichotomy from the man who walked into my basement prison a few hours ago, but I’m too broken to care. I desperately need something solid to hold on to, and this is the Gianni that anchors me to Johnny Malone.
“Kiss me.”
His mouth is on mine without another word, one hand sinking into my hair while the other rakes possessively down my spine. After what I just went through, his dominance should feel like an invasion, but it doesn’t. Gianni’s lips are the only familiarity in an existence riddled with chaos. He’s comfort. He’s safety. He’s home.
I don’t care that he lied.
I don’t care who he is.
I don’t care where we are.
I need to lose myself in a reality that isn’t the one I’m living.
I deepen the kiss, pushing the edge of Gianni’s control. I know he’s holding back, and it pisses me off. I don’t want to be coddled. I want a sense of normality…
I want Johnny and Becca.
“Doc…” he murmurs against my lips.
I wrap my arms around his neck and press against him. A low growl rumbles in his throat, and the kiss turns rough, his tongue demanding ownership of something I no longer control. I groan as the hand on my spine drops low and squeezes my ass, the evidence of his arousal hard against my stomach.
