Page 41 of Mine to Love
“You know, if I had an address, I could send someone to collect the ones you left behind. Baby pictures are irreplaceable.I would go myself, but…well, that wouldn’t be such a good idea given your conscious.”
The things I would do to that animal would exceed my greatest crimes. Perhaps I’m being mischievous. Deep down, I know I wouldn’t be able to resist handling him if I had the slightest idea of who he is. Though, my lack of intel isn’t what’s stopping me. Even without Darcy’s cooperation, I’m sure I could find him. But she and I are still building trust, and I won’t risk damaging it over the same person who has already taken so much from her.
Darcy bites her lip and lowers her gaze.Oh no.Did I fuck up? “There are no pictures,” she says then. “Of all the things my ex-husband was, he was smart. We never had a camera in the house. If we would’ve, I may have had a chance at escaping him sooner.”
I nod.That sick motherfucker.Darcy told me the story of how they met, how he practically made her his child-bride and prisoner. And the abuse—locking her in a closet, beating her, forcing himself on her, patrolling the house like an overseer, not to mention the verbal degradation and emotional torture. No wonder she struggles with insecurities, struggles with not feeling good enough, struggles to trust and accept kindness—at least, she used to. She’s been deprived of not only love but basic human decency for years. This extra detail only makes me realize there’s much more to discover. And that breaks my heart.
It’s then that Darcy stands. Grabbing the picture of the three of us, she walks toward the bookcase in the corner. She holds it up and tests out different placements. Clearly, she wants to drop the subject, and I’ll respect her wish. “Here. This is the perfect spot for the three of us. Now, all we need is a frame,” she says, propping the photo up against a book on the shelf.
“As you wish, angel.”
Her eyes drift to the picture I’ve been avoiding all night. Hell, I avoid it every day and yet I can’t bear to remove it. “I’ve always loved this picture of you. Who is she? One of your siblings?” Darcy asks as she examines the picture of me and Cara. Little does she know, it’s the last one we ever took together. Like I said, pictures and the memories they capture can be just as haunting as they are beautiful.
I avert my eyes and reach for my bourbon. I have no plans to ignore her. She’s confided in me about the worst moments in her life. And while I’ve shared the story of my mother’s murder, the moment that ended my childhood and changed my life forever, I also told her it wasn’t my greatest trauma. This…this is. And I owe her the same vulnerability she’s given me.
As I regain focus with Darcy now sitting beside me, massaging the tension from my neck, I realize I zoned out and never answered her question. “Sorry,” I say, leaning forward to set my bourbon back on the coffee table. “How long was I gone?”
“Maybe five minutes,” she says. Her brows crinkle with concern. As I relax into the couch, I sigh heavily. Darcy snuggles in closer to me and takes one of my hands in hers while continuing to caress my neck with the other. “Gio, what’s wrong? I’ve never seen you like this.”
My lips lift into a half smile as I stare out the window across from us. I squeeze her hand gently. “That’s because when I’m with you, I’m happy. But…before I met you, this was my default energy. Quiet. Dim. Depressed, even. I buried myself in work to distract myself from the things that haunt me when I’m alone. But no one can work every second of every day. Whether it be five minutes or five hours, there’s always a window for the memories, the pain to creep in.”
Darcy leans forward and kisses the back of my hand. Though, as I’ve done for her, she remains quiet, allowing me time to collect my thoughts before sharing with her. I turn to her. “I’vesaid from the beginning that there are things I can’t tell you. Most things aren’t worth telling. Butthis, this matters. This I can tell you.” Darcy nods.
Against my better judgment, I give the photo of Cara and me another glance. That was the day we moved her into her college dorm room. I remember she was happy because Alister allowed her to live on campus rather than commuting. It was a compromise, given she’d wanted to go to school outside of New Orleans altogether. Either New York City or abroad, she’d said. Much like Alister when he was her age, she wanted out from under the thumb of her family. Though, given the recent loss of her father, maybe it was just too painful to think of staying that close to home.
Alister forbid her to leave New Orleans. He felt she was safer where we could easily get to her if something went wrong. And, after losing both his parents, he was under immense pressure to keep both his sisters safe. As fate would have it, if Cara would have left New Orleans, she may have survived Christio Vitale’s vendetta against the Amatos.
Pulling my eyes away from the photograph, I tell Darcy the story of my greatest failure, leaving out the specifics of the Mafia. “Her name was Cara Amato, and she was my sister.” The acknowledgment forms a lump in my throat. “Not blood, but family all the same.” Darcy’s grip on my hand tightens as if she can sense the emotion rising inside me.
“I’ve told you a bit about how I met Alister and came to work for the Amatos. And I know you spoke with Sophia briefly at the wedding and she shared certain details with you about my work.” Darcy nods. “To echo what she said, my job was and, to an extent, still is to protect her family and their businesses. It’s why I have so many weapons, why the security system here is so advanced. Sometimes protecting those I love requires me to do dangerous, wicked things, Darcy. It requires me to be strategic,proactive, and, when necessary, heartless. I have hunted. I have killed. And, when necessary, I have tortured. And I do it all not because I want to, but because, if I don’t, others will hunt, torture, and kill my charges—my family.”
Finding myself revealing more than I’d planned to, I’m tempted to look at Darcy to see how she’s handling my truth, but I don’t. I’m afraid of what I may see. No matter how far she and I have come, no matter what almost happened earlier today in my shower, what I’m telling her must sound insane. It stands to ruin everything. So, instead, I keep my eyes on the window before me and the dark night behind it.
“Cara wasn’t under my protection directly. I worked more so with Alister. But, as head of security, I…I failed her. I failed them all.” I pull my hand from Darcy’s grasp then and bury my face in my palms. My cheeks strain with the tears I refuse to cry. Not because I feel I have to remain strong in front of Darcy, but because I’ve already cried so much. Perhaps that’s part of the reason I avoid eye contact with that photograph.
There were nights after Cara’s abduction that all I could do was stare at it and pray that we would find her. And, again, after we confirmed her death, I stared and cried. That image is so burned into my brain I can see it clearly with my eyes closed. And it never mattered how many tears I shed. It was never enough. It never took away my pain. Even as I sit here now with the woman who breathes life into my very soul, I still feel it. No number of tears will cure this ache.
“She was taken, sold, and forced to endure unspeakable torment until she was finally killed. I searched for her for months before finding her remains. Her brother and I gathered enough intel to know that she was alive all that time, being tortured and raped day in and day out. And I have never forgiven myself.” I sit up straight then and with willful tears in my eyes,turn to Darcy, whose expression mirrors mine. “How do you forgive a mistake like that?” I shake my head as my jaw tightens.
“She was my sister. But, at the same time, she wasn’t mine to lose. She wasn’t mine to grieve. She’s mine to regret. And so, I have spent every day since her death doing my absolute best to protect what’s left of the Amato dynasty. I think so that they don’t have to. I act so that they don’t have to. I facilitate privacy and security so that they can grieve and, by some miracle, move forward. All the while, I carry not only my pain but my shame in silence and solitude. And I will until the day I die.”
36
Gio turnsaway from me as he finishes his story of the girl in the picture. And I find myself at a loss for words. My heart is heavy as I imagine the torment that poor girl endured.Unspeakableis certainly the word for it. Like me, she was a child when she was taken. And, while I know I experienced a different kind of captivity, a different kind of torture, I feel so connected to her. And that saddens me even more. She didn’t deserve what happened to her, just like I didn’t deserve what happened to me. We were both victims of men’s cruel obsessions. Perhaps it’s taken me until this very moment to accept that.
Hearing a story like mine and never once blaming Cara allows me to find grace for myself. And it explains why Gio is the way he is, how he knows just how to speak to me, touch me, heal me. He’s seen the horrors of men. And, while he knows how to wield his own sword of brutality, the things he’s endured have granted him a softness that I need, that the world needs. And yet he blames himself for all the things he can’t control. Something I’m familiar with and yet, something we both need to release.
With tears in my eyes, I lean forward and take his hand. For the first time, his skin is cool to the touch, and he refuses tolook at me. Is he ashamed? Not just of what he perceives as his failure, but of the other things he shared?
I’d be lying if I said his story hasn’t left me with questions. Why do the Amatos need so much protection? Perhaps more than protection, they need and have soldiers. Gio is a soldier defending against both present and possible threats. And it’s not just protecting the family. He’s employed by their corporation. He protects their entities. What kind of business rewards you with the kinds of enemies who will kidnap, rape, torture, and murder a teenage girl? That’s not business. That’s personal,criminal. This sounds like the Mafia romance Gio and I read.
Regardless of my questions and the answers I know Gio can’t give me, all that is important to me in this moment is Gio and giving him the kindness and support he’s given me time and time again. “Please look at me,” I whisper, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
Gio takes a deep breath, wipes his eyes, and obliges my request. “Thank you,” I say as his amber eyes meet mine. Though, usually my place of solace, they now appear empty. Gio, still cold to the touch, looks different and feels different. He said before me he was dim, quiet, and depressed. I see that shadow from his past now.
To soothe him, I pull his hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles softly. “Don’t disappear on me, Gio. I understand the permanent mark loss, grief, and trauma leaves on us. It leaves its essence seeped into our very being—a scar on our heart, sometimes our flesh, and a shadow lurking behind us, just waiting until the darkness is so great it consumes us. In those moments of darkness, we feel there is no difference between us and our shadow, which represents the worst of us, the worst crimes committed against us, or the worst pain we’ve endured. But then the sun comes back out and we realize we are more than our darkness, more than our shadow, more than our past,and more than our pain. All of this is to say that what happened to Cara wasn’t your fault. But, even if it was, you are more than that singular moment in time. You are strong, smart, kind, generous, successful, thoughtful, and so much more. Most of all, you are the person who has single-handedly breathed new life into my bones. You once said I was a light. But Gio, you’re mine. You aremysunshine, the one who chases awaymydarkness and reminds me I am more too.”
As my feelings pour out of me without hesitation, my heartbeat quickens, and my arms feel jittery. I know there must be something shady if not illegal about the Amato’s business. And Gio has admitted to doing heinous things, torturing and killing people for Christ’s sake. I shouldn’t be surprised, given how easily he killed those men the night we met. But that night, he was protecting me. Something tells me that’s all he’s ever done is protect the ones he loves. What he’s told me doesn’t change anything for me. Right now, I just feel lucky to be loved by him. Right now, I just want to be the one to love him.
