Vittorio’s eyes turned dangerous. His energy did as well. She felt the difference in him immediately, although she couldn’t see it on his face.
“Keep going, bella.”
There was that low, compelling tone again. She was fairly certain he could hypnotize an entire roomful of people into doing anything he wanted them to do.
“I was terrified, and all three, Becca, Owen and Dwayne, hit and kicked us repeatedly. The longer I was there, the worse the beatings got. Haydon began stepping in, distracting them, when they were punishing me. He took horrible beatings, sometimes so bad he couldn’t get up. I’d bring him water and food, but I had to sneak it to him. Dwayne suspected and would lie in wait for me, and he’d beat me in front of Haydon and taunt him. It was a pretty horrific life.”
Vittorio nodded. “The social worker didn’t check on you?”
She shook her head. “I think she was too overworked, and she thought they were good people. They appeared to be. I don’t know if Haydon was born the way he is, or if they created him, but he is a planner and doesn’t care if anyone ever knows he got his revenge, as long as he does get it.”
The throbbing in her shoulder was increasing to straight-up agony. She glanced at the clock. It was getting close to the time she should take more painkillers, and she wasn’t going to be able to wait if the radiating pain was anything to go by.
“Are you hurting?” Vittorio was reaching for her machine before she even answered him, but he didn’t deliver the dose of morphine, just kept his hand there.
“I was trying to stretch out the time between taking doses. For some reason, it makes me feel drowsy and I want to stay alert.” But she wasn’t going to make it by more than a half an hour at the very most.
“There’s no need for that,” Vittorio said, his voice as gentle as always, but there was a note of absolute command in it. “There’s no need for you to be alert, because I’m here to watch over you. The surgeon explained that you had to stay on top of the pain meds, Grace. He said there was no danger of you becoming addicted, and I know that’s your greatest worry. The doctor knows what he’s talking about. I promised him you’d follow his plan to the letter.”
He gave her that faint smile, the one that turned her inside out. “You wouldn’t want to make a liar out of me, would you?”
Grace shook her head and watched him release the dose that would take the pain away and have her floating away soon.
“Thank you, gattina bella, I appreciate that although you have a difficult time taking the pain meds, you do it anyway.”
She was taking the pain medication because Vittorio had asked her to. Had it been anyone else she would have balked. “I’m going to fall asleep soon. I know some people have clarity and aren’t in the least sleepy, but morphine makes me a little loopy.”
“That’s all right. When you sleep, you heal. Do you want me to lower the bed for you?”
A part of her wondered how Vittorio Ferraro knew how to lower a hospital bed. She had watched the Ferraros at countless events and read about them in magazines. They seemed like irresponsible playboys. She might lust after one of them, but she felt a little sorry for the women in their lives. Here she was, wishing she was one of those women.
“I don’t need you to do that yet. I want you to understand about Haydon, so you can get your family to realize they’re in real danger.”
He nodded, once more taking possession of her hand. This time he brought it to his chest, pressing her palm over his heart. She was acutely aware of the play of his muscles beneath the thin material of his shirt. She took his nod as a go-ahead.
“A few days after Dwayne beat me, they found his body in a ditch about eight miles from the house. He was naked, and he’d been tortured. I overheard the cops talking with his parents and they said every bone in his body had been broken. He was only a few months older than Haydon, a big boy, like his father. Very husky and strong. You’ve seen Haydon. When he was a kid, he was very thin. He looked almost frail.”
“He was never charged?”
“No. He never said a word to me. I tried not to be happy Dwayne wasn’t there, but secretly, and I’m ashamed to admit it, I was. I didn’t like the way he died, and the cops were always coming around investigating, but we were afraid to talk to them and they didn’t come near us. At first, the beatings stopped and then one day Becca went after me in the kitchen, throwing dishes at me and saying she wished I was dead the way Dwayne was dead. I think that was the signal to her husband that it was okay to take out their frustration, grief and anger on the two of us.”