Page 26 of Do It For Me
His skin is so warm against mine. I don’t want to let go. I’ve craved a touch like this for a long time—tender, caring.
“Is it wrong that I feel good?” I whisper before I can stop myself.
Guilt gnaws at me for enjoying this moment with him. I should be crying, thinking about the mistakes I’ve made.
I’m disgusting. He shouldn’t want me. He’ll be disappointed when he learns how broken I am, how I can’t sleep without nightmares most nights, how I’ll wake him up screaming over pain and memories that refuse to stay buried.
“You deserve to feel good,amore.”
If I tell him what happened, will he believe me? Will he care? Will he understand?
No. He can never know. I don’t want to be seen as a survivor or a victim. I’m just Lana. I want him to seeme.
If we fall in love, I don’t want it to be stained by my past. And I don’t want to know anything about his. We’re just two human beings getting to know each other. No traumas, no opinions. We could be serial killers, but if we fall in love without knowing this, we could accept everything… right? Could I?
Probably not. I’d be too scared… But I want to believe he won’t let me down. Too many people have already done that.
I take his knife, and with a sigh, I hand it back to him. His confused look makes me smile.
“I’m giving you my trust too. Don’t let me down.”
He smiles, tosses the knife onto the back seat, and kisses my hair. “Never. I promise.”
WHAT IS THIS?
“So, is this our second date?” I ask, sitting onto the tablecloth spread over the grass.
Dante brought us to a secluded meadow. There’s no one else in sight, and I’m grateful for the isolation. The tablecloth and food were already set when we arrived. I don’t know if he had someone prepare it or arranged it himself before coming to my house. Either way, I like it.
All I can hear are the rustling leaves, and the soft howling of the wind. No gunshots. No screaming. No crying. Just us. It’s perfect.
“More like an escape—or a distraction,” he replies, sitting beside me. “I’m kidnapping you for tonight.”
“Should I be worried?”
He smiles, lighting a small lamp in the middle of the setup. The glow casts warm, flickering shadows across his face. “I’ll bring you back in the morning. I promise.”
I huff and shake my head.
Dante slides the plates closer to me. I don’t recognise much of the food—just that it includes meat, rice, a salad, and a dessert. As we eat, he talks about his childhood, his mother, and how he took over his father’s work at twenty. Although he doesn’t go into much detail, his expression turns slightly gloomy.
To lighten the mood, I share pieces of my own past. I talk about the good moments— like how my mother taught me to cook, clean, and take care of the house. How Tara’s nanny played with us, and how Tara was always there to help me with whatever I needed. I stick to the memories that don’t hurt.
Dante picks up where he left off, telling me about the time he used to gamble. He grins as he pulls out a deck of cards and shows me a few magic tricks.
It’s embarrasing that I know so little when he seems so educated. He has aspirations and dreams; he thinks about the future, while I want to avoid it at all costs because, for me, future only brings self-destruction.
I’ve never been allowed to think for myself or wish for anything. I just want to be free, though I’m not sure if he can give me that. I’ve always been something to admire or use. I was raised to serve. The prince charming I dreamed of never came, nor did the freedom I craved. My father and brothers made sure to extinguish any flame of hope within me. I can’t even cut my own hair, no matter how much I hate it.
My sister, on the other hand, was my father’s little girl. In her early years, she cried almost daily. I begged him to leave her alone, and for a while, he did. But his attention shifted to me.
Some nights, when she was out, he would sneak into my room, telling me I had to be good to keep him from hurting her the next day, and he kept his word. Seeing her happy meanteverything to me, and I would have given anything to protect her.
When I stop eating, I feel exhausted. My whole body aches. I’m sure I already have bruises, but I made sure to cover them with my clothes. I even wrapped a scarf around my neck so Dante wouldn’t see the marks from my father’s choking.
“We should go back,” I say quietly.
“Do youwantto go back?”
