I stared at the floor of the BMW. Lino's hand rested on my bare thigh in a hold I knew he meant to be soothing. Just above my knee, it was nothing inappropriate. Nothing that should have made my body come alive, especially not given the fact that I'd nearly been strangled to death less than two hours before.
But it did. Somehow, instead of feeling calming, his touch felt like a claim. Like a brand.
Distantly, I knew the air was cold, could hear the heat pumping in the front to warm it up. Lino stripped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders, but it didn't matter. I couldn't feel the cold, anyway.
What I felt were his eyes on me, felt the awkward stretch when he looked to Enzo for advice. I knew Lino so well it wasn't funny, knew every mannerism and quirk. I knew his expression that signaled that exact moment when my fun-loving friend faded away to be replaced by the ruthless businessman who got his way no matter the cost.
I also knew the way his body sat too still in the middle seat next to me was merely the calm before the storm. I could feel it simmering beneath the surface and waiting to erupt. I knew it was only for my sake that he postponed the explosion. The thing I'd never wanted to happen had come to pass. Even if he didn't know the whole truth yet, he no doubt would soon enough.
Connor was a dead man.
And I would be responsible for the stain that left on my best friend's soul. The knowledge was a punch to the gut, knowing that I'd be the downfall of the person I loved most in the world.
My heart thumped in my chest, a staccato rhythm as the same word pounded in my head on repeat.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He wasn’t meant to know, wasn’t meant to ever see me so weak. My body felt like it was frozen solid as my brain raced with all the things I could say to save us from the situation we shouldn’t have been in. But there was nothing left, no lies to tell. Only the truth remained.
"Samara," he murmured, attempting to catch my eye by ducking his face into my vision. I ignored him, finding that spot on the carpet much easier to focus on, much easier to sink into the numbness that made everything just a little less painful. "Little Dove, look at me," he ordered gently. Taking my chin in his hand, he ignored the flinch that startled me. Hands too close to my throat, too close to wrapping around and squeezing. "I'd never hurt you. You know that." He twisted my head until he could look down into my face, but still I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. Those warm brown eyes were too knowing, too familiar. Every time he looked at me, it felt like he saw inside my soul. I didn't want him to see just how broken I'd become. Not when I knew he'd be looking for it. "Jesus, fuck," he groaned, pressing his face into my neck. His body trembled, vibrating with fury suddenly as if he could see it even without my eyes on his.
I let him hold me, let him maneuver us out of the car so that my bare feet never touched the cold floor of his garage. The smell of him filling my nostrils felt like a familiar comfort, all spiced vanilla and clean man. I wanted to sink into the way it felt to be cradled so delicately in his arms. To feel like I mattered to someone in a way that was irreversible.
Inevitable.
After spending so many years under the thumb of someone who sought only to control me, to use me and manipulate me, the thought of having the power that came with love and affection over Angelino Bellandi was enough to push back a little of the numbness. A little of the haze.
When my eyes opened, it was to find him looking down at me. His breath shuddered when my eyes met his finally, my arms tightening around his neck in response. "There you are, vita mia," he murmured.
"What does that mean?" I whispered, the hoarseness of my voice making his nostrils flare briefly. He reached the top of the stairs, turning into one bedroom and setting me on the bed gently. Sitting on the edge, he looked over at me where I curled in on myself.
"My life." My heart clenched, and a whimper stuck in my sore throat. I wanted that. More than anything, I wanted to be everything to him in the way that he had always been everything to me. "You'll be safe here. Enzo will stay until I call in one of the other guys to watch over you. He'll be right downstairs if you need anything."
My eyes widened, darting up to his to find him standing from the bed. "Where are you going?"
"I have to find him," he grunted. "He doesn't get to just walk away after what he did to you." I grabbed his hand, pulling until he sat back on the bed with me.
"Please don't leave me," I begged. I didn't know why it felt so important that he stayed with me, but with him finally knowing the truth about my marriage, I needed him. Needed to know that he wasn't walking away, needed to know he wasn't as disgusted with me as I was for everything I'd tolerated. It wasn't rational, even in that moment I knew it.
But as the panic seized my lungs, I climbed into his lap and straddled his hips with my legs so I could wrap myself around him like a monkey. "Samara." His voice went ragged, as if I tormented him by making him stay with me.
"Please, Lino," I whispered with a broken sob. "Please don't go. I need you."
"Okay," he sighed, tipping his head forward to press his lips against the top of my head in a gentle kiss. The closest to the real thing I'd ever get from him, I knew. If it was all I could have, it would be enough. It would have to be.
He stood, keeping me in his arms in a show of surprising strength. I'd known he was strong, of course. The way his suits fitted over his arms and chest left no doubt to that. But there was something about a man who could stand without help, bearing my weight on top of his, that seemed so unreal. So far-fetched.
So Lino.
"Let's get you washed up, and we'll get some sleep. You will never go to sleep with his touch lingering on your skin again." I nodded my assent into his neck, feeling his hands tighten around my thighs briefly. He strolled us into the connected bathroom, setting me on the bathroom vanity and detangling himself from my limbs. Shyly, crossing my legs together, I tried not to think about the fact that I'd been wrapped around him.
That Lino's hips had been between my legs.
"Can you stand to shower?" he asked, eyeing the bathtub and separate shower in consideration.
"Yes. I want to wash him down the drain, not sit in water stained by him." He nodded, reaching in to turn on the massive granite shower, before coming back to me and lifting me down off the counter and sliding me down his body until my feet touched the warm tile floor.
He swallowed, something flashing over his expression briefly before he pulled back and started unbuttoning his crisp white dress shirt. "What are you doing?" I squeaked.