Page 142 of Mafia And Maid
And a warm hand catches me around the waist.
“Fuck,” he growls.
“I’m okay…just dizzy.” I wriggle from his grasp, feeling tears prick my eyes. How can he even bear putting his hands on me?
“Rosa.”
And the soft brush of my name cracks something in me. I fist my hand into his T-shirt. Burying my face into his chest, I will the tears to remain locked away. How can he be so gentle with me? How can he treat me like this when I look how I do?
“What’s wrong? Fuck, baby, I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”
Hecan’tfix it.
I’m wrong for him. Always so fucking wrong.
I pull back. “You can’t fix it.”
“Like hell I can’t.”
“Ijust…”
Camillo tugs on my hand, guiding me through the hall and up the stairs. The door clicks shut behind us as he gently takes me to sit on the edge of the bed. Kneeling before me, he cups my face. “You just?”
A few moments beat between us. “Aren’t you embarrassed by me?” I whisper.
That I’ve managed to ask the question surprises me. But I cling to it. I need the answer. I need to know if I’m just as worthless as I feel—and as Grayden and my family have always made me out to be. I’m too fat and too short. My thighs touch too much. My boobs are too big. My stomach isn’t flat like the women who fill the rooms of Chicago high society. My hair isn’t the right shade of blond. My eyes are too flat…
“Why would I be?”
“Look at me. I mean, really look at me. I’m not…” Anger spikes in me, and I clench my fists in my lap.
Not like them. Not beautiful.
“You’re not what?”
I shake my head, losing my confidence. “It doesn’t matter.”
Calloused fingers grasp my chin gently, and he keeps my face from turning away. “It matters to me.”
“I’m not...anything.” The sneering whispers have followed me all my life. The way I’ve longed to be like the other women in my family. Slim. Lithe. Willowy in ways that fabric drapes from me instead of pulling taught and bunching oddly. The way I long to be smaller and take up less space.
“I don’t understand, Rosa.”
I open my mouth to answer, but I can’t get it out.
“What the hell happened at breakfast? Or was it at the park? Did someone say something? Do something?”
“No.”
“Rosa.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “Baby, I don’t know what’s going on with you lately. I haven’t seen you eat a meal in days. And don’t lie to me—please don’t lie about it. Cate and Juliana have noticed too. I’m worried about you. I just want to help.”
“I’m not…beautiful.”
“You are.”
“I’m not. Look at me!” I push his hand away as some spark of indignation dredges to life from the depths where it’s been shoved down.
“I am looking at you,” he says gently.