I could, but I’m not sure I see the point anymore.
I can’t face Toni’s family or his men after knowing what he did to my father—to Draco’s father. I can’t look into his mother’s eyes knowing she raised a monster that was much worse than I had ever imagined—than she’d ever imagined.
I would blame her for something she didn’t even know about. I would feel like a fool. All of us would. Perhaps she’s better off not knowing what he really was.
I should consider myself lucky that Draco took him out, but a part of me still doesn’t believe Toni could do that. Maybe it’s just my heart speaking, still remembering the times when we were happy. Trying to ignore the times when I really thought I hated him.
Draco presses his lips, observing me when the silence surrounds us. He’s been doing a lot of that lately—well, ever since taking me to the brown shed. “I will have Patanza bring you something.” He finally pulls his gaze away, taking down his pocketknife and the brass knuckles from the weapon wall.
“What are you going to do with that?” I nod at the weapons he has in hand.
Glancing sideways at me, he slides the knife in his front pocket and the brass knuckles in the shirt pocket. “You would like to know that, wouldn’t you?”
I quirk a brow. “Just curious.”
“Going to do a few things today. Handle business. These aren’t the only weapons I’ll be bringing. The rest are in the SUV.”
“The rest? How many?” I inquire.
“I’ve lost count,” he chuckles.
I laugh a little. “I remember Daddy promising to get me my own purse gun and one for the glove compartment of my car. Granted, I hardly ever drove my car because Daddy wanted me to ride with his driver—he had bulletproof windows—but whenever I did, I remember him having someone tail me. He always had someone watching me, and they always had way too many guns lying around.”
“And did he ever get you one?”
“No. Mom told him she’d chop his hand off if he dared.”
We both laugh out loud. It’s harmonious, his boisterous and genuine. Laughing this way with him feels strange. I haven’t laughed like this in a while. It feels good and wrong.
“She only wanted to protect me.” I stand from the bed and walk toward him, adjusting his collar. My eyes then shift up to his. “I would feel safer here if I had one.”
“Why? So that one day, when you’re angry enough, you can shoot me through the back of mi cabeza?” My head.
“Draco,” I exhale. “I think if I wanted to kill you while you slept, I would have done it already.” I pull away from him. “You have guys like your cousin, Thiago, walking around and I don’t even want to know why, but I’m assuming it’s because of something your mother has said.” He shifts uncomfortably, pulling his gaze away. “I don’t trust him. And some of the guards—I don’t know. I know you rely on them, but I can’t trust them all either. The only one who treats me like a person is Patanza and even she can’t fully be trusted, because she feels indebted to you.”
“So you’re saying you don’t feel safe enough with me in charge?” he questions.
“No—it’s not that,” I respond quickly.
He raises a stern, serious brow, squaring his shoulders. “Then what is it?”
I open my mouth, but clamp it shut right away. I think of those days here—before he finally pulled his shit together and decided to treat me like a human. I was tossed around. Starved. Abused. Mistreated. He was supposed to be here that day when it all happened in the cellar, but he wasn’t.
“It’s nothing,” I murmur. “Just forget I brought it up.”
His eyebrows draw together, shoulders still tense, as he steps toward me. I sit back down on the edge of the bed, and he comes closer, closer, until his thigh is pressed on my knee. Bringing a hand down, he tilts my chin and looks me straight in the eyes. His whiskey irises don’t sparkle or shimmer. They are serious. Hard and dark again.
“You have to learn to trust me, Gianna,” he murmurs. “Trusting me is all you have. I won’t let that happen to you again.”
I cringe inside, pulling my gaze away.
He takes note of my silence, probably knowing I won’t speak on it anymore. “If getting you a gun will make you feel better, we will get you one. I’ll even let you pick it out yourself.” I pull my eyes up, and his have softened a touch.
“As long as you promise to never pull it on me, then it’s my word. When I’m back, we’ll discuss it.”
I feel my mouth twitch. I want to smile, but something is preventing it. Perhaps it’s because making that promise is one that I’m not sure I can keep. If something happens to me again because of him, I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it—living with this man. I’d blame him all over again.