Page 72 of Savage Proposal

The gag was forced back into his mouth and tied behind his head, even tighter now so that he really was muffled. Elio went to the side bar and picked up a scalpel that was probably not nearly sharp enough to make that first cut painless and a pair of sheers.

“Lorenzo,” Isabella said. “What’s going on? I thought you were going to let him go?”

I cupped her cheek and brought her eyes up to mine. “That was never going to happen,dolcezza. I told you that I would get justice for you, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

Father David started to shriek, and I knew that Elio had made his first cut. “Fuck, did you bring a saw down?” he asked. “I forgot about his goddamn breastbone.”

I turned, and all I saw was red. “Don’t end it too quickly,” I said. “Try for his liver first. Work your way up to the breastbone.”

Isabella jerked in my grip, and I knew it was time to get her out of here. She had seen enough to know what would happen. Anything more, and I knew that I risked her going into shock, and that wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“Come on,” I said, gently turning us toward the door. “You don’t need to see this.”

“But—”

“No, Isabella,” I said, scolding her softly. “Elio and Damian can handle this part.”

“They’ve done it before?” she asked.

I didn’t answer her. By the shrieks of agony that chased us out in the hallway, she knew the answer. The walk back past the holding cells and up the basement stairs was silent. By the time we reached the top step, Isabella was shaking. “Come upstairs with me,” I murmured. “I think it’s time I tucked you into bed.”

CHAPTER 44

Isabella

Scalding water rained down on my head, but I couldn’t feel it on my skin. I was shivering, freezing cold. “I’m going into shock,” I told Lorenzo, who had his arms around my waist.

He shook his head. “You’re panicking,” he said. “I’ve seen shock. This isn’t it.”

I wanted to argue, but my tongue felt thick and useless in my mouth. Instead, I leaned forward and rested my head against his clavicle. Lorenzo’s hand massaged the back of my neck; the other hand petted over my scars.

“I’m here,” he said. “I’ll do whatever you need.”

I wanted to forget and to chase what I’d seen out of my mind. I didn’t want those images behind my eyes when I slept tonight. “Kiss me?”

Lorenzo stared at me for a moment, and then he craned his neck down and pressed his mouth to mine. I parted my lips, inviting him inside, but he didn’t. He kept his mouth soft; it wasn’t the type of kiss that led anywhere.

I pulled back. “Lorenzo, please.”

He threaded his fingers into my hair at the base of my skull, and my eyes rolled as he massaged my scalp. “Relax, Isabella,” he coaxed.

I couldn’t. There was a knot of tension between my shoulder blades that refused to unwind. Lorenzo reached for the shampoo and poured some into his palm. He tipped my head back and started lathering it into my hair.

Once he was satisfied with the amount of bubbles that he’d worked up, he put me back under the shower head to rinse my hair out. Once it was out, he did the same process with conditioner. “You’ve done this before,” I said.

“I have,” he said. “I’d like to think I have been well-trained.”

I giggled. The sound was too high and a touch hysterical, but it had to be a good thing that I could laugh, right? “You have been,” I said. While the conditioner sat on my hair, Lorenzo took my shower puff off the hook and the body wash that I had been using. “You don’t have to.”

He hushed me softly. “I want to,” he said. “Let me.”

I let him wash my body, and it was nice. His touch was a warm comfort, and slowly, the numbness began to fade. The cold pit in my stomach started to melt. But the moment the feeling started to rush back, the sobs came.

Lorenzo was waiting for it because he reached behind him and turned the water down so that it wasn’t as scalding. “Let’s rinse your hair and get out of here,” he suggested. When I nodded, he ran his fingers through my hair as the water washed over us.

Finished, Lorenzo shut off the water and got both of our towels. He wrapped his around his waist, and with mine, he gently patted me dry. “Will you touch me?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not tonight,dolcezza,” he said. “You don’t want me to.”

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