“It’s fine. I’m fine.”
I decide that’s a good moment to slip away and take a step to the door.
“Scarlett.” The way he says my name is nothing short of a command.
I stop but I don’t turn back.
“Sit.”
Lenore clears her throat and I hear her rustling around behind me.
“I said sit,” Cristiano repeats when I don’t move. “Get her a plate.”
I turn around, not sure who he was instructing, but see Lenore set the Crème Caramel at the center of the table before producing two espresso cups, two dishes, and finally the pot.
“I’ll take it from here,” Cristiano says, and Lenore nods, unties her apron.
“Alec, you’re dismissed too.”
They exit the kitchen together, leaving us alone in the dimly lit room. Cristiano takes a few moments to pet Cerberus, giving him all his attention. It’s strange to see him when he does it. How warm and relaxed his expression becomes.
Once he’s finished, he tells Cerberus to go to his bed in the opposite corner of the kitchen. He then returns all his attention to me, eyes sharp as daggers on me.
I clear my throat and avert my gaze slightly, very aware of how hard my heart is beating.
“Dress fit okay?”
I nod, bite my lip.
“You have anything to say?”
Get it over with. Maybe he’ll forget the part about kneeling. “I shouldn’t have said what I said.”
“Which was?”
“I shouldn’t have accused you of…taking advantage of me.”
“Of taking something you don’t give,” I say the words slowly. They’ve repeated in my mind all day.
“I’m sorry I—”
“Here. Say them here.” He points to the floor beside him.
I draw a deep breath in, then out and in again. I’m not going to be able to do it. I just can’t. Maybe it’s that I know it’s not Noah he’ll punish but me, but I can’t.
“Are you serious?” I ask him.
“As a gunshot to the head.”
“That’s in poor taste, don’t you think?”
“I told you what I’d expect of you. You’ve had the whole day to come to terms with the fact.”
“You want me to kneel. You want to see me degrade myself.”
“Degrade is a big word but yes, I want you to kneel. I want to know that you understand your mistake. Your insult.”
I’m on the verge of tears, I feel it, and I can’t tell if they’re angry tears or sad tears or I’m fucked and I’m going to have to kneel to this man tears, but they’re just a few blinks away.
I push the chair back loudly and stand gripping the edge of the table for strength.
“I’ve told you I’m sorry and I mean it. I shouldn’t have said it. But I won’t kneel, Cristiano. I’ll take whatever punishment you want to dish out, but I won’t kneel. I swore it to myself with Marcus. With my brothers. And I won’t kneel for you. Not of my own free will.”
My heart is beating so fast I swear it’s going to leap out of my chest. When he pushes his chair back and stands, instinct tells me to make a run for it even while reason tells me what a mistake that will be.
I whirl to run but he’s on me before I’ve even reached the door. He’s fast. So fast. And so much stronger than me. He spins me around, big hand in the middle of my chest pushing me against the wall.
I shove him, but he takes my wrists and drags them behind my back. With one hand he grips my wrists and winding the other one into my hair, he makes a fist of it, forcing my head back painfully.
“You won’t kneel of your own free will? But that’s what I want, Little Kitten,” he says, words furious and menacing and spoken with precision. With control. He leans in close trapping me.
Danger. This man is dangerous.
“You’re hurting me. Really hurting me.”
“You think this hurts? How about this?” He squeezes the fist in my hair.
I cry out.
“Let me tell you about hurt. Let me tell you what happens to a woman who is made to watch her family forced to their knees before her eyes.” As he says it, he forces me down, crouching with me as my knees hit cold, uneven tile.
“Please.”
“Hurt is when her husband is humiliated before her eyes. When her first-born is bound, immobile, and executed with a bullet to the back of his head. Hurt is when his blood splatters across her face and the terrified screams of her children begin. Hurt is when we are made to watch my mother—”
His voice breaks and he has to look away, to swallow hard. When he returns his attention to me, the fist in my hair tugs even harder.
“Hurt is when your mother is stripped and what she doesn’t give is taken from her before your eyes by your fucking fiancé,” he jams his finger into the middle of my chest but at least he releases my wrists. “While your brothers stood by with guns at the backs of two children’s heads to force them to watch when they turned away. To force them to bear witness to the unspeakable assault on their mother. That’s fucking degradation, Scarlett. That’s true degradation. So, don’t you dare use that word. You have no right to it. You have no idea what it means to be degraded.”
I’m sobbing now, not for myself, not because he’s hurting me but for her and for him and for all of them. For my parents and for Noah, too.
“I’m sorry,” I blubber. “I’m so sorry that happened—”
“That didn’t just happen,” he spits. “Don’t you get it? They did it. They made it happen. Your brothers. Your fiancé.” He shakes his head then, abruptly releasing his hold on my hair and stepping backward so I fall forward onto my hands.
He turns away, walking to the sink.
I watch from my place on the floor as he turns on the tap and washes his face, mutters a curse into the towel he uses to dry himself.
Cerberus whines from the corner.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I’m sorry I said those things to you when I knew you hadn’t touched me. I’m sorry that my brothers hurt your family like they did. I’m so sorry that it was my family who did that to yours. I’m sorry…” I trail off, sitting back on my heels, thinking, blubbering now because I am sorry. I’m sorry for all of it.
I rub my face, look up to find him watching me.
“I understand if you need to hurt me. Punish me for what happened. I do. And if you’ll let my brother go—”
“We’re back to your brother again. You’ll do anything for your brother.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Thing is that my family’s gone. Nothing will ever bring them back. Not hurting you or him or crossing off every god damned name inked into my skin. Nothing.”
“I don’t know what you want. I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do.” I wipe my eyes but the tears keep falling.
He comes at me fast and I scramble back but hit the wall. He takes me by my arms and hauls me to stand. He takes my wrists when I push against his chest, raising them over my head, pinning them there.
That’s when I notice the red on his collar, the dried blood on his neck. That’s when I realize what he’s been out doing.