Page 56 of Capo
Sit a little? With me?
We leave his private wing, my prison, and walk through the large room outside, toward the patio. There are white cushions on the rattan chairs, candles lit in several large floor lanterns and two glasses of wine on a little table between the chairs. I stop flat. Not that the change isn’t nice, but what the hell?
It’s as if he senses my astonishment. He’s become so attuned to my emotions that it scares me. I’ve never in my life been so close to anyone, and the knowledge that I’m close with this cruel monster of a man hasn’t really dawned on me until today. It makes me angry, curious, horrified.
“Sit.”
I move stiffly toward one of the chairs and sit on the edge, tense as a piano wire. He sinks into the other chair, oblivious to, or probably choosing to ignore my inner turmoil. Raising one of the glasses he takes a long sip.
“For fuck’s sake, Chloe. Sit back and relax. Have some wine.”
“Or what? You’ll hit me? Kill my brothers? Throw me in the basement and starve me?”
His eyes darken as he tightens his lips. I regret them instantly, the words that flew out of my fucking mouth. Why do I want to pull the devil to the surface when he’s being friendly for once? Is it because it’s the only thing I know? Is it because this new behavior of his rattles me? Salvatore inhales, then exhales on a deep sigh.
“Is that what you want? Or can you just fucking have a glass of wine with me? I’ve had a really shitty day, and I don’t know where one of my nephews went, he’s gone missing. I’m fucking worried. Just sit. Don’t push it.”
“What’s going on?” I ask as I sink back into the chair, grab the glass and take a sip of delicious tasting red wine. There’s a throw blanket hanging over the armrest and I pull it over my legs.
“I think we’re heading to war. And Christian is missing. He’s dropped off the face of the Earth.”
I tense up as I hear the name. His brutal beating still haunts me, despite all I have suffered in this house, he was my first and greatest nightmare. If it hadn’t been for that night I never would have come here, I’d have lived my Chloe life still, always looking over my shoulder, but somewhat content anyway.
“I can’t say I’m sorry,” I mutter.
“You’ll possibly meet him here sooner or later so you better get over it.”
I clutch the glass harder, staring out into the dark garden. “He’s a monster.”
“So am I.”
“Yes, you are.”
He empties the glass and pulls up a bottle from behind the table, refilling. “People have died, Chloe Becker, for being less mouthy with me than you are.”
“You’ve almost killed me. Several times. I don’t know what I have to lose. I’m beaten. I’m sitting here with you like some doll because you flicked your fingers. I’ll spread my legs for you because you threatened the lives of my brothers and not because I want you.”
“I’m not proud I beat you up,” he says, his voice hoarse. He suddenly sounds eternally tired.
I’m completely taken aback. I’d never have expected to hear anything even remotely close to an apology from this man and I don’t know what to answer. I gulp down the rest of the wine, buying time, the silence mounting between us, charging the air.
“You confuse me,” I finally say, unable to look at him, swallowing hard.
“I confuse myself. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore.” He leans closer and refills my glass.
I take a large sip. I haven’t had alcohol in months. I’m gonna get wasted, but I’ll take it. “I… don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you,” he says. “For David. I haven’t—It’s new to me too… You’ve made me see him in a different light.”
My heart makes a leap with sudden joy. “He’s a great boy. You’ll get there, I know it.”
Salvatore gives me an unreadable gaze, then he drains his glass and stands, holding out his hand.
I finish my glass too and put it down on the table as I let him pull me to my feet. We end up nose to nose, way too close. His eyes dart between mine as he strokes a strand of hair off my face and tucks it behind my ear. Then his eyes change, flash dark. I know what he wants. I know what he’ll demand. I’m his to take. He wants more than I can give, though. He’ll force me to bend.
My time is running out, but I can never give myself fully and completely to him. He’s too cruel, too much of a devil, despite the streaks of humanity that have started to surface. There’s a vulnerability he tries to hide, but I’ve spent so much time with the monster that I’ve gotten attuned to his every mood shift, his every need. I hear it in his breaths, see it in how his pulse thuds on the sides of his neck, how that vein swells on his forehead. I even smell it on him. I know when he is about to turn cruel. I know when he’ll be tender.
Tenderness is over for tonight.
“Come,” he says, and grabs my arm.