“You think I care about that? You think I care about any of that?” I grasp his hands, my smaller fingers curving around his larger ones. There are scars here too, so many of them. They speak of beatings, both given and received.
“So quick to forgive, Clara. That was always your weakness.”
He thinks he’s changed so much. He’s not the only one. “You think you know me?”
His thumb brushes across my palm, one swipe that’s quick but no less devastating. “You look just like I remember you. Young and beautiful and innocent.”
I’ve never been quite as innocent as he believed. “Is that why you attacked Shane?”
His expression darkens. “He was hurting you.”
“Is that the only reason?” I know I’m challenging him, but this situation is already dangerous.
“He was touching you.” His hands close around mine, engulfing them, warm and firm. “No one gets to touch you, except…”
We aren’t going to be able to escape him, I realize. This looming presence. He’s the reason we’re in this limo right now, whoever gave the order to have me kidnapped. And I can’t even fully regret it, because it brought us back together. “Who is he? The man who took over after my father?”
A coarse laugh. “No one you want to know.”
I shiver because I’m sure he’s right. There would have been absolute mayhem after my father was killed, a war to determine who would be next in line. Whoever won would have been brutal. “But I’m going to meet him, right?” I glance out the window at the miles of endless desert, low mountains in the distance. We’re closer than I thought. “That’s where we’re going.”
He’s silent a moment. Then he says, “Do you know why you’re valuable, Clara?”
“Because of who my father was. Except…he wasn’t really my father. Whoever took over must have heard the rumors.” Everyone knew about the gossip, that my mother had slept around. And I looked nothing like my father or my sister.
“Your mother, Clara. She was the daughter of a consigliere in Italy. Whether you are or aren’t your father’s daughter, you have ties to the homeland.”
My stomach drops because I know what he’s saying. I’m not being taken somewhere to pay a blood debt, a revenge killing for whatever my father did. That should be a relief, but what he’s saying is almost worse. If I’m valuable for my lineage, then the only way to use me is by marriage.
I’m already on my knees in front of him. It’s that much easier to beg. “Please, let’s run away together. You and me. I love you, Gio. I never stopped—”
“Christ,” he says, throwing off my hands. He turns his face away to watch the flatlands race by.
“You must have thought about it.” I remember those missing orange slices. Did he hold them in these calloused hands? Did he put them in his mouth, bite into the sweet flesh? “You know what will happen to me there, but it doesn’t have to be like that.”
“It does,” he says roughly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know you’re loyal to the family.” It’s the only way he could have survived this long. “But look at what they’ve done to you. Look at what they’ve made you.”
“A killer?” he says, his voice taunting.
I flinch at the word, at his tone. At the image of my sweet Gio taking a life. He would have taken so many. “You don’t have to stay with them.”
“Where would we go, bella? Where would we go where they couldn’t find us?”
My heart beats faster. He’s actually considering it. Hope shudders through my chest. “Anywhere. I’ll change my name, dye my hair. No one will know where we came from.”
“And will you still make your art?” he asks. “The statues rich people want to put in their gardens?”
I blink, uncertain. How does he know about that? Of course he’s been watching me. It hurts, the faint mocking strain of his voice. As if I’ve done something wrong. And maybe I have. “No,” I say slowly. “I couldn’t.”
“Because there would be newspaper stories. Social media accounts.”
My heart sinks. There was already a small newspaper story about the Grand’s opening, including a picture of the statue. And then there’s my Instagram account. “Is that how you found me?”
Sensual lips curve in a knowing smile. “I found you long before that.” He leans forward, the back of his knuckles brushing my cheek. His large hand falls to my neck. He holds me loosely, but the meaning is clear enough. “And I kept you hidden. But you wouldn’t have stayed that way for long. Someone else would have taken you if I hadn’t.”
And so I brought this on myself. The one thing that kept me alive, the one thing that sustained me. And even this I can’t regret. Wonder is too sharp and bright to really feel anything else. “Oh, Gio. I thought you had died.”
All my grief, all my longing comes out in those words. Torment fills his eyes, a deep pain that mirrors my own. He may think he’s changed, but I recognize the boy in those deep wells.