Page 38 of Ruthless Truths
Without uttering another word, I gently trail my fingers down her arms and first remove the bandage around her wrist, letting it drop to the ground with an audible thud. Her shirt comes off next, revealing nothing beneath the loose fabric. Though, knowing how she’s been hurt, I don’t let my eyes linger where they want to.
I lower to my knees for her, carefully lifting each foot as she steadies herself by placing her good hand on my shoulder. Shoes and socks go next, and when I glance up to make sure she’s certain that she wants me to continue, I see a conviction in her eyes that she needs this moment. She needs the gentle touch of a man to replace the beating she received.
It’s not the soap that will remove the stench she speaks of, it’s a new memory. One that won’t remind her of what almost happened and that won’t bring her closer to her nightmares, but further away from them.
With this understanding, I curl my fingers around the top of her leggings, guiding the wet fabric and her underwear down her hips, past her thighs, until they pool around her ankles.
My focus remains steadfast on the task at hand. Despite the temptation to admire her naked form, to revel in the ethereal beauty before me, I remind myself that this is not a moment for desire. It’s one for solace, for tenderness, for helping her regain a sense of safety and self.
I might enjoy killing those who threaten all that I’ve created and strive to protect, but this woman doesn’t need that man right now. She needs a side of me very few have ever seen, and, for the first time in years, I want someone to see it. I want to show her that I’m not the devil she may believe me to be.
Rising to my feet, I reach behind her, retrieving the soap and allowing it to fill my hands. Rubbing my palms together, I create a lather before placing them on her shoulders. The bubbles caress her neck as I fix my gaze on my raven, ensuring nothing has changed from her previous desires. Her eyes remain locked with mine, a silent affirmation accentuated by a subtle nod as she pulls the corner of her lower lip between her teeth.
My touch traverses her shoulders, only lightly trailing over the marks on her skin inflicted by the man I just eliminated. I suppress the fury that still simmers within me, recognizing that my anger has no place in this moment. What Olivia needs most right now is not my vengeance, but a gentle touch to mend her wounded soul.
My fingers lead the way down her arms, then back up again, sweeping lightly over her chest, then down her stomach. Leaving one hand on her hip, I reach for more soap before turning her until she gives me her back.
She moves further under the warm spray of the shower, washing away the bubbles I’ve left behind as I add more over her spine and ribs.
Olivia takes a step closer to me, pressing her back against my chest, and I keep my arms at my sides, waiting for her guidance. The weight of her body melds with mine as she seems to find solace in my warmth.
“Hold me, please,” she whispers, her voice still carrying a heavy weight. “I need to feel safe again.”
The last place I thought this woman would ever feelsafeis in my arms, but denying her isn’t something I’m capable of. Not after fearing for her life as I did.
My hands move around her stomach, pressing her tightly to my still-clothed body, hopeful that she can’t feel how hard I am just from having her close like this.
Her fingers grasp my wrists, guiding one of my hands until it rests between her breasts, a gesture of trust and surrender. As I apply gentle pressure against her skin, she melts into me, her weight shifting, and I become her anchor, supporting her both physically and emotionally.
“Thank you, Luca,” she says softly, her words laced with gratitude that I don’t feel worthy of. Not after the way I’ve treated her, even while I’ve known I wanted her.
“I don’t deserve your thanks,” I reply gruffly. “I’m the reason you’re hurting.”
But Olivia shakes her head against my chest, the defiance I’ve continued to appreciate about her palpable. “You’re also the reason I’m not buried beside my mother right now.”
Though I’m aware that I saved her life in that alley, I don’t welcome her praise. Not when I know I never should have let her leave the compound, knowing there are people out there that likely still wish her harm.
Claiming Olivia as mine might be the worst thing for her and filled with complications I’m not prepared for, but I can no longer deny the possessive instinct toward this woman that burns within me. No one has the right to harm what belongs to me without facing a vengeance that matches their transgressions.
And Titan Moretti will feel my wrath by the time I’m done seeking the retribution I so fiercely desire.
17
OLIVIA
When I forced myself out of the apartment in all my fury earlier, I never could have predicted the events that followed. Especially not Luca coming after me once I found him, and me, against all logic, pleading him to take care of me. Hell, I even assumed I’d feel regret after the way I asked him to take care of me, but there’s a peace rooting at my core that won’t allow anything of the sort.
With the warring emotions inside me, I can’t find a reason to care any longer that this man is a murderer. That he masquerades as a businessman while secretly dabbling in the dark dealings of the mafia, beyond the realm of just inflicting harm on those who cross their path, seems irrelevant now.
I needed him to erase the memories of the last couple days more than anything else. Even if it had only been for the moment, sharing the shower with him, feeling how gentle he could be, and seeing the restraint he portrayed as he touched me with nothing other than compassion and understanding…
I’m no longer a woman trying not to fall for her captor.
Denying that I don’t desperately want this man is nearly impossible. More accurately, I’m too tired to want to even try.
I stepped out of the shower after taking what solace I could from Luca and left him to finally undress and wash himself. The urge to stay and care for him, as I initially intended, is strong, but I’m not ready. Not yet.
I may have no problem admitting I care more for this man than I should, but I can’t throw myself at him just because he’s shown me a moment of kindness. I’m not an idiot. Emotionally traumatized and in need of companionship? Sure. But that doesn’t have to include sex. At least, not right now.