Page 116 of Saving Her

“You cry out. You’ve called my name a time or two, as well, which speaks volumes of the horrors you must be enduring.” He shoots me a sly grin. “But all jokes aside, the first time I heard you I thought you needed my help. That something serious had happened. But once I reached your door, you were yelling for your brother, and then at Robert.”

The humiliation increases, scarring me. I break our gaze, unable to look him in the eye when my burden on him continues to grow.

“If you’re interested, there might be something in one of these bags to help you sleep better.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to be sedated.”

“No, not sedatives. After your first few restless nights, I did some googling. There’s an air diffuser around here somewhere. It’s got some type of oil that’s meant to help. It’s a lavender blend or something.”

This is ridiculous. Seriously, ridiculous.

This man, with his cold calculation and criminal ties, is googling sleep aids and buying air diffusers. It’s enough to make a delirious laugh bubble in my chest.

He narrows his gaze on me. “Did I say something funny?”

I stop fighting and let loose with an embarrassed chuckle. “You’re this big, tough, aggressive bad guy. I never would’ve imagined the words ‘lavender blend’ coming from your mouth.”

His grin stops my pulse.

So many men have grinned at me. Leered. Ogled. So many that I never thought I’d appreciate the beauty of a male’s face again. I thought I’d always find their interest threatening. But when Luca smiles at me, the routine spike of apprehension fades into a strange sense of accomplishment.

“Laugh all you like,” he drawls. “I’m only going to get more stir crazy the longer I’m stuck inside these four walls.”

And there goes my happiness.

Poof.Gone.

“I know you’re not ready to get out of here,” he adds. “But how would you feel about writing a list of goals and attempting to take on one at a time?”

I glance down at my fingers tangled in my lap. I don’t feel good at the prospect, not good at all, even though the uncharacteristic sweetness is appreciated.

I want to stay within my comfort bubble. Unhappy, unhealthy, yet cozy in the familiar surroundings. “Can we leave this for a few days?”

“I don’t think we can. It’s time to start moving forward.” There’s an edge of authority to his tone. “These goals can be small or big—you decide. And we only need to work toward achieving one a day.”

“We?” I raise my gaze, my self-loathing growing at the determination in his expression.

“I’m in this for the long haul. We can do it together.”

I return my attention to my hands and pick at the quick of my thumb. Truth is, I hate disappointing him. I have ever since the first day we met. And now a lifetime of events have passed between us. He rescued me, risked his life to save me. He deserves better than my resistance. I should be giving him my full compliance. If only it didn’t feel like launching myself into a complete free fall.

“Which leads me to my hidden motivation.” He pushes to his feet and walks toward me, towering above me with an outstretched hand. “I’m hoping the first task on your list might be to help me out.”

“Help you out how?” I pause, not eager to place my hand in his. Part of my reluctance is due to my past. There’s more than that, though. I don’t fear him hurting me. My hesitation stems from something different. Something I can’t pinpoint.

When I finally give in, sliding my palm against his, I hold my breath.

His warm, calloused fingers grip mine. Tight. Strong. He pulls me effortlessly to my feet, making me shiver.

“Don’t look so scared.” He drops his hold and takes a step back. “You stitched my head in Greece. I’m only hoping you’ll work your magic to help take those suckers out.”

4

Luca

She followsme to the kitchen where I grab a notepad, pen, and a chair, then continue into the main bathroom. The blade, antiseptic, tweezers, and pile of tissues I attempted to use yesterday are still spread out on the counter as if waiting for the torture to begin.

Just like in Greece, when I hadn’t been able to see the injury on the side of my head to stitch the wound, I now can’t remove the cotton firmly embedded in my skin. And I’ve left it too long for the removal, not wanting to ask Sarah for help and also not feeling comfortable pushing Penny. But she’s given me an inch. Maybe it’s time to strive for a mile.

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