“Grace, you aren’t thinking straight. I’ve been with you for two weeks. I’ve rarely left your side. He’s going to come after me anyway, whether you’re with me or not. Am I right about that?”
His deep blue eyes looked directly into hers and she couldn’t look away. She nodded, because it was the truth. Her heart started beating faster for no reason at all other than whenever she looked at him like this, she felt almost as if she belonged to him. For a woman who had been alone her entire life, isolated and afraid, feeling that way was shocking, frightening and exhilarating all mixed together.
“Then, la mia ragazza molto coraggiosa, be brave a little longer and give me your trust. My home is a fortress. He is welcome to try for me there, but he won’t succeed. Let me have the privilege of taking care of you until you’re well enough to take care of yourself.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” She blurted it out, terrified she was going to give in. To let the prince take her to his castle like some absurd fairy tale.
“Nothing will happen to me.”
He absolutely looked invincible.
“I don’t know you.”
He bent his head and gently brushed a kiss across her forehead. “You know me, gattina, you’re just conditioned to think you can’t trust anyone. He did that to you. Don’t let him interfere with us. You have the right to live your life, Grace. Don’t let him take that away from you any more than he’s already done. You’re safe with me. I give you my word, and a Ferraro never goes back on his word. Keep trusting me. I swear you won’t regret it.”
Her wild imagination immediately interpreted his statement as him claiming her, making her his, letting her know no matter what, he would stand for her. A million butterflies had taken wing in her stomach at the touch of his lips on her skin in spite of the pain threatening to swamp her. He could do that. Make her forget, even if it was just for a few seconds. She couldn’t stop the slow nod of assent. Relief swept through her and she put her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. She didn’t have to think anymore.
His hand went to her scalp, his strong fingers doing a slow massage that somehow kept the throbbing pain at bay enough that she could tolerate the rest of the ride without wanting to be sick. Neither said anything more until she felt the car slow.
Opening her eyes, she saw the vehicle was going down what was obviously a thousand-foot driveway with woods on either side. She started to sit up straighter to get a better view. She’d heard of places like this one along Lake Michigan, but she’d never actually seen one of the beautiful wooded estates. The moment she moved, wrenching pain radiated from her shoulder throughout her body. Her stomach reacted with a frightening lurch and she couldn’t quite suppress the sound that was torn from her throat in spite of her every effort not to cry out.
Vittorio immediately caught her body and steadied her. “You can’t move around yet, Grace. Dr. Arnold was very clear that the car ride had to be smooth. No jarring you. That means when you shift positions, you have to take it very slow. Let me know ahead of time so I can help you.”
She bit down on her lip and struggled not to cry. She refused to be a baby in front of him. She was exhausted and wanted to lie down. More, she wanted the pain to stop, just for a few minutes, just long enough to allow her to catch her breath.
“It looks so beautiful, Mr. . . .” She hesitated. She was unsure what to call him. “Mr. Ferraro” sounded a little formal for being engaged—even when the engagement was pure fiction.
“Vittorio,” he supplied, his hand moving to the nape of her neck, massaging slowly to help ease the tension from her. “It isn’t that difficult to say my name, is it, gattina?” Amusement spilled over from his laughing eyes to his voice. “I’ve been waiting to hear the way my name sounds when you say it.”
She didn’t understand how he could look and sound and even smell so sexy and still, somehow, make her feel beautiful. Desirable. How did he do that when she was such a mess?