“My father,” I scream with a hard sob against the cool, unfeeling wood. How many times was I bent over this desk? How many times did I press my lips together not to make a sound?
Cold air washes over my back, and I realize I’m free. Giovanni stands a few feet away from me, looking shell-shocked. “Your father?”
I stand and wrap my hands around my stomach, shaking. “I never wanted you to know.”
“I don’t understand. I thought for sure it was someone after you left here. He was hurting you?”
“Just stop,” I say, my voice dull.
He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out, and I flinch away.
He freezes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t, okay? I couldn’t tell you or anyone. He told me he’d have anyone killed if I told them.”
“Honor?” he asks between clenched teeth.
“I don’t think he hurt her. Only me because I wasn’t his real daughter. He told me I couldn’t tell her or I’d be sent away. And I didn’t want to leave her, even if that meant putting up with him.”
“He…” A hard swallow. “He raped you.”
“No,” I say bitterly. “I was telling the truth when I said I was a virgin. He liked to call me into his office because I’d done something wrong. Maybe I had been sketching instead of doing my history homework. So he’d tell me to bend over the desk for punishment.”
Giovanni’s hands are clenched into fists, his large body trembling with rage. “Why?”
I know what he’s asking. Not why did it happen, but why didn’t I tell him. “What would you have done, Gio? If I told you my father would spank me without my panties on, that he would feel me up while he did it?”
“I would have killed him,” he says, his voice rough with venom.
“I know,” I say, suddenly weary. “I know you would have. I didn’t doubt that. That’s why I could never tell you. You would have killed him, but he had an entire army at his disposal. You would have been killed first—or if not first, definitely after.”
“Who the fuck cares?” he asks roughly. “I was nobody. I was nothing. It didn’t matter what happened to me. You should have told me so I could protect you.”
“And what about me protecting you? I loved you, Gio, with everything I had. That was how I protected you and Honor. Both of you would have fought for me and suffered the consequences. So I didn’t tell.”
Giovanni runs a hand over his face, looking more troubled than I’ve ever seen, more real than he’s been since I returned to the mansion. He stares at the stained glass, unseeing. “So all those nights when you came to meet me, he had put his hands on you. He had terrorized you, and I did nothing.”
I take a step toward him, place a hand on his arm. “This is what I didn’t want. This guilt.”
“Guilt?” he says harshly. “I swore I’d protect you.”
“It wasn’t your fault, just like it wasn’t mine.”
He pulls away from me. “I wish I could kill him again. That fucker. I wish I could take him downstairs.”
The basement, he means. I shiver. “It’s over now. Done.”
His expression clouds, and he looks at me like I’m a stranger. “Done,” he repeats hollowly.
“I’m over it,” I say gently, but we both know that’s a lie. My freak-out in the bedroom proved that, and the knocked-over side table between us confirms it. “We don’t have to talk about it again.”
His eyes meet mine, and I see a grief so profound I can’t breathe. “When they held me in that basement, I was glad. It meant you were free. Every second I spent down there meant they hadn’t found you yet. So no one could put their hands on you if you didn’t want them to.”
Tears trace a hot path down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Gio.”
“And it was for nothing.”
“No. It was everything. You did save me. And Honor too. I love you for that, Gio. I love you for everything.” I reach for him, but he pulls away with a slashing motion.
“You loved that boy. He’s gone now.”
Cautiously I reach for him again. I place a hand on his muscled arm, feeling the tension running through him. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t embrace me either. “I know you’re different,” I tell him. “I love who you are now too.”
We remain that way for a long moment, as if in a black hole, floating without gravity, anchored only by the touch of my hand to him. I can feel his breath, his anguish. His remorse.
His eyes are soulless, empty. “Romero will take you back to the studio.”
My hand falls away. “What do you mean, he’ll take me back? I know the way.”
“He’ll escort you. You aren’t going to be at that pool house tonight. You aren’t going anywhere without a guard.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I only return to the studio long enough to pick up Lupo, who whines in a high pitch and licks my hand.