“Then you’d still stay here, finish your studies. You’d be under Byron’s protection. I’d visit from time to time.”
In other words, he’d be free to play the field while I’d stay locked up in here. Gross. “I’d like to find my sister now.”
“Look, Clara.” He drops his head. It’s an endearing move. A practiced move. “The truth is, Byron didn’t only introduce me to you because of the family connections we could make. He thought I’d like you…and I do.”
Somehow I don’t think he’s talking about my personality. “Why would he think that?”
“You have a certain innocence. A youthfulness I find appealing.”
It’s called being underage, jackass. “Well, thanks. I guess. I’d like to find my sister, though. I’m worried about her.”
“You never have to worry about her. Byron would never let anything happen to her.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. I take a step back. Then there’s a hand clamped around my wrist. Javier’s hand. “Let me go.”
He pulls me closer. I wobble on my high heels, almost falling into him. The shawl comes lose. His gaze drops and darkens.
“Clara, I think you and I really get along.”
“Let go of me now.”
He walks forward, and I have no choice but to walk backward, stumbling as I go. One of my shoes twists off, and then the other. I’m off balance, almost falling, except that he’s holding me up, fingers clenched into my skin, wrenching me. The trellis is at my back, the same metal trellis I use to climb down, the one I use to escape, and now it’s part of my prison. I’m caught between those unforgiving bars and his body, breath coming fast. Now I understand how Honor feels. I understand why she puts up with it—because she has no choice. I knew it before, but I never experienced it until now, never felt fear like a living thing inside me, clawing its way up my throat.
I kick at him, even as part of me knows that will only make it worse. I don’t have the poise and class and core of steel that Honor has. I can’t endure this, even when I know I have to. I can only fight.
“You little bitch,” he snaps as my knee connects with his shin.
He twists my wrist, and I’m facing the wall. The scarf is long gone, and my breasts are pressing into the metal criss-cross. Javier is holding me in place, his breath hot against my temple. “I want us to get off on the right foot, Clara. I told you that.”
And this is the right foot. Violence. Coercion. Tears stream down my face. There’s no way out.
This is how Honor must feel. Trapped.
There is a sudden cry and groan from the man holding me captive, and then he’s up against the metal grate himself, flat with arms spread wide, while Giovanni punches him again and again. The only reply Javier makes is a groaning sound that makes the hair rise up on my neck.
“Giovanni, stop!” He’ll kill him, and that will be so much worse. He’s the governor’s son—and worse than that, he’s Byron’s friend. “Stop!”
Giovanni turns to see me, and the rage parts like dark clouds, long enough for me to see him looking back. Him, the boy who spent those nights in the pool house, cracking jokes and letting his hand brush against mine. The haze clears. “Clara?”
I’m crying, my hands clenched together as if in prayer. Begging. “Giovanni, please.”
He turns and faces Javier. For a minute I think he’s not going to listen. He’s just going to keep beating him until Javier is dead, and then what will we do? I don’t even know what we’ll do if he’s alive. We’re in so much trouble. This goes beyond trouble.
Giovanni speaks low, so low I can barely hear him. “How does it feel without your buddies backing you up, huh? How does it feel one-on-one?”
Then he slams Javier into the wall one last time. Javier’s eyes are closed as he slumps to the ground.
I stare at the unconscious man, his nose bloodied, his crisp tux rumpled and torn. “Is he…dead?”
Giovanni wipes his brow with his forearm. “No.”
“Is he the one who did that to you? The bruises?” With his buddies.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. Why would he—”
“We need to get out of here.”
Right. What would happen if we were found out here? Every man in there is packing heat. Some of the women too. “We have to find Honor.”
“There’s not time.” He puts his hand out to me. He doesn’t grab me. Not like Javier did. His eyes are as dark as the night behind him—unfathomable. They scare me just as the night too, but I trust him. No matter how much he’s tried to scare me away. No matter that he once stroked my neck, that he once held it in his hand.
I put my hand in his. “Let’s go.”
He doesn’t wait. We run toward the pool house together. We don’t even have to discuss it first. We both head toward there like it’s our north star, our home.