Frowning, he holds my gaze, then puts the lit end of the joint out on the ground. “I trust you, baby. I’ll keep you safe without that damn thing in you. You get me?”
“I do.” I nod.
“But you will never go out without my permission.”
“Of course,” I agree. I’ll agree to anything to get this out. I will not leave him, no way. After all I’ve been through, running again wouldn’t make sense at all.
“You’ll always have a man on you at all times. Am I clear?”
I give him what he wants. I nod. “Yes, sir. Of course.”
“And if you ever leave without my permission, if anyone ever hurt you—”
“You’d punish me and kill them. Got it,” I finish matter-of-factly.
He grunts, draws in a breath, then jerks his chin to the little package of hand sanitizing wipes I packed for our picnic. I hand him one.
I shake when he washes the spot on my arm with the tracker, a tiny spot on my underarm that will be hidden when I put my arm back down.
“Lay back, baby,” he whispers.
I do. I close my eyes.
“Relax.”
I’m as relaxed as I’ve been in ages. My heartbeat slows, my breathing’s regulated. I sync my breaths with the waves on shore.
I feel him pinch where it is and open one eye to see him with something that looks like a scalpel. I squeeze my eyes tight again.
There’s only a brief pinch of pain, then the cool of the wipe a second time, and when I open my eyes again he’s gently placing a bandage on my skin.
“That’s it?”
He nods. “That’s it, baby.”
“Jesus. If I knew it was that easy—”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
I smile at him. “Thank you.” I feel freer somehow. Unencumbered. Ready to take this next step with him. The area he cut feels numb and stings a little, but everything’s muted right now.
I nestle into him, my back to his front, his arms around me. I love it here. So safe, and warm, and protected.
We weren’t meant to be comfortable, though. If I want to take this next step with him, I know what I have to do.
Now.
Now’s the time.
Tomorrow, I’m taking vows with him, and I don’t want to taint those vows with anything that could come between us.
“Tavi?”
“Mmm?”
“I want to talk to you about something, but I… I don’t want to. I’m afraid that you’ll think less of me.”
Gently, he strokes the top of my hand with the pad of his thumb. “Elise, do you have any idea the things that I’ve done?”
Actually, I do. I know them well. “Of course.”
“Then you should know there’s nothing you could tell me that would surprise me.”
I nod, still fixated on the darkening waves out at sea. The sun sinks even lower, and bright lights on the beach spring on, illuminating a boardwalk far below us.
I draw in a breath and let it out slowly. I’m not exactly sure why it’s so important for him to know. Or maybe it’s important for me to say it?
“I was in love once,” I whisper. And for some unknown reason that I can’t quite explain, I follow this up with, “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry?
Am I?
He’s grown still. I’m distinctly aware of the hard planes of muscle behind me.
“What’s in the past can stay in the past, Elise. Can we make a pact? Right now. Between the two of us. We’ll forgive what happened in the past and put it behind us. Tomorrow, we start over.”
I swallow, trying to gather courage, but surprised at the well of emotions that threaten to choke me. I expected him to be surprised, or maybe angry, but sympathetic… there’s so much I don’t know about my soon-to-be husband. Every day brings something new. I’m eager to know more.
“I… I loved Piero, Tavi.” I close my eyes and steady my breath. That was harder to say than I thought.
“Piero?”
His tone sounds a bit… colder.
“He was my bodyguard.”
Behind me, Tavi sits up straighter. Gently but firmly, he turns me to face him. All traces of humor have fled when he reaches for my chin.
Did I make a mistake?
“The man who’s dead?” he asks. But he doesn’t seem surprised.
Dead.
The word echoes in my mind like the bang of a gavel.
I can only nod.
There’s no surprise in his eyes, and it strikes me as a little odd. Did he suspect this?
Whatever compassion I once imagined in Tavi’s eyes is gone. Before me now sits Ottavio Rossi, Underboss to the notorious Rossi family. The man who kept me prisoner and demanded my obedience.
“Did he ever hurt you?” Tavi asks.
I shake my head. “Never. He protected me.”
“You were only a child, Elise…”
Is he angry at my dead lover? It makes sense, though, when I think about it. Tavi’s so jealous of me I wore a chip in my arm so he didn’t lose sight of me. Of course he’s hung up on the concept of an ex-lover.
“You and I both know we gave up childhood long before we ever should have, Tavi. It’s been a while since I’ve been a child.”
He nods, still brooding, then pulls me to him. “I knew you suffered something terrible. I could tell that you’d been hurt, too. Like me.”
I’m so grateful he’s understanding. He turns me to face outward again, nestled back up against him.
“I’m sorry, Elise. I’m sorry.” I’m not sure what he’s apologizing for. Maybe all of it. “I need you to forgive me for the shit I’ve done.”
I nod, feeling oddly sentimental, like all my emotions have magnified but I can take it somehow. I feel relieved, too, to have that out in the open.
“And how about you?” I ask. “Have you ever been in love?”
His arms tighten around me even more. “Not until… well, not until now.”
I turn to face him. Is he saying what I think he is? When my eyes meet his, he cups my face between his hands, bends, and kisses me. It’s a gentle, almost chaste kiss.
“I was never in love, but I was engaged to be married before you.”
I blink in surprise. “Were you?”
I suppose it’s good that we’re purging this before our wedding. It had to be said. But I don’t like the thought of him with another woman, not at all.
Is that how he feels, knowing I was in love with another man?
I shiver when a brisk breeze chills me. He slides off his jacket and nestles it over my shoulders.
“I never met her,” he says, his voice almost cold.
“What happened to her?”
He releases a breath before he answers. He plays with my fingers, gently stroking them, almost thoughtfully.
“She killed herself.”
A slash of pain hits my chest and my throat gets tight. Suicide is one of life’s greatest tragedies.
“Tavi, no.”
Oh, how awful. I can’t even imagine.
“I didn’t know her,” he says, but you don’t walk away unscathed from even a peripheral*- knowledge of such a thing. “But it got in my head, you know?”
I nod. I do know. Oh, God, do I know.