It’s also messed up that I regret not letting Maria help with my hair. What should it matter whether I’m pretty? I’m a prisoner here, no matter how good the food or how sexy my captor.
Only with Amy’s help could I ever do anything fancy with my hair. It’s too thick and unruly, tied up in wavy knots no matter how recently I’ve brushed it. Princess hair, that’s what Honor called it. The kind Rapunzel let down from her window. I’m looking out my window now, but there’s no prince at the bottom.
A knock comes at the door.
I turn and pad across the room barefoot. It felt strange to wear heels alone in my room, but it feels stranger to open the door to Giovanni like this—intimate. The air in the room evaporates when I see him in his tux, so dignified and solemn. He’s dressed the opposite of when I knew him before, in well-washed jeans and plain T-shirts. Except he reminds me more of that boy in this moment than since I first woke up in that limo. He looks both expectant and resigned, as if he knows something bad will happen but he’s determined to withstand it. Back then I thought the horrible thing was his family or maybe mine. Now I’m not so sure what tests him. Maybe it’s me.
His dark gaze lingers over my body. I saw myself in the mirror so I know what he sees. Ample curves wrapped in gold so formfitting it could have been painted onto me. It looks like the individual shimmering beads adorn my skin. It’s ridiculously sexy but, considering that most of my skin is covered, classy too. I feel like a complete stranger.
His voice is stiff. “You look…beautiful.”
I make a face. “You don’t have to say that.”
He gives a rough laugh, a little unsteady. “Jesus, Clara.”
“It’s not like this is a real date.”
His amusement evaporates. “No, this isn’t a real date. This isn’t how I imagined taking you out when I let myself think about it.”
My curiosity sparks despite myself. I don’t want to be interested in him, this ghost of the boy I loved, this imposter. “What did you imagine?”
“A drive to some high spot where we could look at the city lights and be alone. We’d lie down on the hood of my car while it was still warm.” He gives me a small smile. “We’d talk about our plans, because when I thought about it, we had a future.”
My chest constricts. That would have been paradise. There’s a part of me that wants to say, We can have a future now. Except kidnapping isn’t a real foundation for a relationship. And he’s a violent man, ruling a world I’ve wanted to escape my entire life.
“That would have been nice,” I say instead.
The gravity in his eyes tells me he understands the difference. It would have been nice before. Now we’re just a mafia capo and his stolen bride, preparing to attend our fake engagement party.
He holds up a velvet box. “For you.”
“Oh.” It’s stupid to feel grateful that he’s gotten me a present. Like the dress, it’s more about his status than doing something nice for me. Still, my heart pounds as I reach for the lid.
A sapphire pendant takes my breath away, its many facets catching the faint light in the room and sparkling even brighter. The dainty gold chain emphasizes the weight of the gem.
“I can’t,” I manage to say. It’s too much, too beautiful. Too expensive.
He raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“What if I lose it?”
“Then it will have served its purpose.”
I can’t breathe, watching him. Wanting him. “What purpose?”
He takes my hand and leads me to the mirror. A woman I don’t recognize stares back at me. She does actually look beautiful—and confident and sensual. This is some dress. Giovanni stands behind me, his broad shoulders dwarfing mine, his eyes fathomless where they meet mine.
His large hand sweeps my hair to the side, achingly gentle, exposing my neck.
He holds the delicate strands of gold and rests the sapphire against my breastbone. It’s cool and heavy, glinting in the mirror. With quiet concentration he fastens the necklace behind me and smooths my hair back into place. The entire time, he doesn’t touch my skin. My senses heighten as if reaching for the feel of him, begging.
By the time he’s finished, I’m breathing harder, making the stone rise and fall.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Whether it’s a real date or not, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Don’t,” I say, my voice thick with tears. I don’t want to soften toward him, but God, I already have. I could never really be hard toward him. He’s dragged me back into my worst nightmare and somehow made me want it.
“This is all I imagined,” he continues, his voice harsh. “I bought this a week after I took over, because it reminded me of your eyes. I never thought I’d see it on you, but I wanted to. I want to dress you in diamonds and lace. I want to give you everything.”
The sapphire hangs at the perfect height for a pendant, an inch above the top of my breasts. But somehow it feels constricting, like a collar. A leash. “Everything but my freedom.”