by JM Darhower
“Oh.”
“So will you draw a picture for me?”
“Maybe someday.”
“Someday? What does someday mean? Tomorrow? Next week? When I’m 80?”
“I’ll draw for you the same someday you let me clean your room,” she said. His mouth flew open like he was going to argue, so she cut him off by asking her next question. “What did you do to Nicholas last time that was so bad?”
“I shot at his truck. The gas tank sparked and started a small fire. They accused me of attempted murder, but whatever. I honestly didn't try to kill him.”
Haven was stunned he’d been so violent toward the boy when he’d seemed so nice to her.
“What did he say that made you smile?” Carmine asked.
“He told me a joke about a deer.”
He rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t count as my question. Have you ever been kissed?”
She shook her head slowly, feeling inadequate. “That probably makes me seem immature…”
“Not at all. I shouldn’t have asked that one. It just kinda came out.” He shifted around in his seat. “Hell, I haven’t either, technically speaking, since I don’t kiss on the lips.” He paused again. “And that probably makes me seem like an asshole, that I can have sex with them but not kiss.”
“How many girls have there been?”
He dropped his head at her question. “I don’t know. A dozen and a half plus two or three, maybe.”
“So twenty or twenty-one?”
He peeked at her. “You’re quick at math. I don’t keep a list around, but that’s about right. And that’s ridiculously high, I know.”
He looked upset by his own answer, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted some of those girls. She smiled, trying to be reassuring, but he just groaned. “New subject. Question number… whatever fucking number we’re on. When’s the most afraid you’ve been?”
“Maybe in your father's room.”
Carmine nodded like he expected that answer and turned away from her to grab his drink. “Your turn.”
“Where’s your mom?”
She’d blurted it out without thinking, and her hands covered her mouth as Carmine froze, his glass mid-air.
“Chicago,” he said after a moment, setting his glass down without taking a drink. He turned back to her, his blank expression surprising her almost as much as his answer.
“Chicago?”
“Actually, it’s Hillside, just a few miles outside of Chicago.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway,” he said, “what’s your favorite color?”
“Green.” Her cheeks flushed as she blurted out the answer. She lay back on his bed to avoid his gaze.
The bed moved as he sat down beside her. Her eyes shot to his as he stared down at her. “Your turn.”
“What’s your favorite color?” She was too flustered to think of anything else to ask.
“I’m torn between deep brown and this certain shade of pinkish-red right now. Looks kinda like my tie.”
Her blush deepened, and she had to look away from him as her heart raced.
“My turn,” he said. “Why’s green your favorite color?”
“Pass,” she said.
“You can’t pass.”
“But you didn’t answer some questions.”
“Fine, I’ll ask something else. Why are you embarrassed about your favorite color?”
Her brow furrowed. “I just passed on that question.”
“No, you passed on why green was your favorite color. Now I wanna know why green being your favorite color is embarrassing. Two completely different things.”
He spoke matter-of-fact, as if it were just that simple.
“I think you’re cheating,” she said. “So I pass again.”
Carmine laughed as he reached for the blunt and relit it. She was mesmerized at the calmness of his expression as he inhaled, and he smiled when he saw her looking. Goose bumps popped up on her skin at the sight of him. She wasn’t sure if it was the intoxicants, but something made her feel at ease. She felt safe there, and as frightening as that concept was, she basked in the sensation. Because never in her life, even as a child, did she ever feel like she was safe with someone—not even her mama. From the beginning she knew her mama couldn’t protect her, as much as she may have wanted to.
Haven realized then she trusted him. She’d never trusted anyone in her life. And she knew she shouldn’t, especially him of all people. He was the son of the man who controlled her—his family held her life in their hands. They could hurt her or even kill her, and she'd be defenseless to stop it. But she trusted him, anyway.
She could feel it in every inch of her body, every beat of her frenzied heart. He consumed her, and she was powerless to stop it.
The thought of it made her stomach churn.
Carmine leaned forward, pausing when he was an inch from her mouth. She parted her lips and inhaled everything he gave her, closing her eyes as she tasted his breath.
She felt his face graze against her cheek, the sparks from his skin sending tingles through her body. She could feel the slight stubble of his facial hair, rough and scratchy, as he inhaled deeply. He was breathing her in, and at that moment, she allowed herself to wonder if maybe—just maybe—this frightening creature could want the same thing she craved.
He broke the connection by pulling away. She held on as long as she could, not wanting to let go, but her body’s need for oxygen won. She exhaled as Carmine got up, but she kept her eyes closed. She didn't want to face reality yet.
* * * *
Carmine slipped out of the bedroom, needing to put some space between them. She had him twisted. Up was suddenly down, left was now right, and everything surrounding him was just a fucking blur. She was innocent and pure, unlike anyone he’d met before. And he knew it was selfish of him to get her intoxicated, but he wanted to get to know the real her. He wanted her to be at ease.
It was difficult for him to admit he was just as inexperienced as her. He could fuck a girl senseless, but when it came to loving one, he had no clue what to do. Love? The word horrified him.
He walked over to the library and flicked on the light. Blinking a few times, he scanned the titles on the bookshelves. He stopped when he reached the book he was looking for and grabbed it before heading back to the bedroom. Haven was lying on her stomach on his bed, her feet up by his pillows. He gave her a small smile and shut the door behind him, holding the book out to her. “It’s called The Secret Garden. I thought you might like it.”
She took it. “What's it about?”
He shrugged. “A garden, maybe? A secret? I don't know. Read it and tell me.”
Her eyes widened as she glanced down at the book in her hands. “Uh…” she started, her brow furrowing as she eyed the cover.
He chuckled at her reaction, amused she was getting flustered over a book. “Look, you don’t have to read it. I’m not gonna quiz you on the shit or make you write a book report. I just thought it would give you something to do.”
“Oh no! I want to! It’s just… what if your father finds it?”
“Don’t worry about him,” he said. “I got you covered.”
Her eyes glossed over with tears. It was just a book to him, but he had a feeling it was a lot more to her. Opening it halfway, she scanned a page. “I don’t think I can read this.”
“Why?”
“There are a lot of different words.”
He laughed. He’d expected her to say it was too scandalous or something, not that it was too difficult for her to read. “Well, I think you can do it. Besides, you have help now.”
“Help?”
“Yeah. I mean, if you don’t want help with reading, that’s fine, but I’d be happy to do what I can.”
She looked down at the book again. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he echoed her word. “Is that an, ‘okay, I’d like to do this whole reading shit with you,’ or is it an, ‘okay, you’re reall
y fucking nuts if you think you’d be able to help me?’”
She merely smiled, the sight of it telling him it was probably a combination of the two.
He kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed beside her. “I’m glad to be out of those damn things.”
“You looked handsome tonight.”
“Thanks. Could've done without the tie, though.”
She giggled, and he had the sudden urge to tell her she was beautiful. The words almost came out, but before they could, she turned away from him. He sighed and remained quiet, annoyed he wasted the opportunity.
He grabbed his guitar and played a few chords as she read the book. It made him feel warm inside, and for a while, it almost felt like it was normal. Just a boy sitting with a girl, both of them a bit fucked up in their own ways, but they were just themselves.
And he cherished it.
He tried to keep his attention off of her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but from the corner of his eye he could see the look of concentration on her face as she sounded out words. “Carmine, what does tyrannical mean?”
“It’s like a tyrant, someone who forces their way into power, I guess. You know, like a master.”
“Thanks.” She turned back to the book. She was quiet for a moment before groaning. “What’s hib— uh, this word?”
He set his guitar down and rolled onto his stomach, peeking over to see what she was pointing at. His chin rested on her shoulder. “Hibiscus. It's a flower.”
She smiled and turned to him, their faces so close the tips of their noses touched. He thought she’d turn back away, the proximity intimate, but she just stared at him. He could feel her breath on his skin as she brought her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down on it.
He turned his head then, and Haven closed the book with a sigh. Pushing it to the side, she lay her head down on his pillow.
“Not liking the story?”
“I’m sure the story would be great if I could understand it,” she said, shielding herself with her hair, but he tucked some of it behind her ear to see her face.
“Patience is a virtue and shit... you’ll get it. Anyone who can learn through closed captioning is a natural at this reading thing.”
He had no idea if he was telling the truth, but he wanted to make her feel better.
Neither one spoke for a while. Haven’s eyes drifted closed eventually, and he stared at her for a bit before his own exhaustion took him under.
A piercing scream pulled him from his slumber not long after he dozed off. He shot straight up, startled when he realized it was Haven. Tears poured down her cheek as her head thrashed around, fast asleep in the grip of a nightmare.
He wrapped his arms around her without a second thought and shushed her. She calmed down, falling back into a peaceful sleep.
“Sogni d'oro, mia bella ragazza,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. Sweet dreams, my beautiful girl.
Chapter 12
Haven stood in the kitchen, her mind wandering as she threw together a batch of cookies. She’d slipped out of bed an hour ago, her nerves on edge about last night. Her body controlled her when she was around Carmine, her heart taking the lead over her mind. Her mind told her it was ridiculous, dangerous to spend time with him, but her heart told her it was right.
She preheated the oven as she placed the rounded balls of dough on the cookie sheet, putting the first batch in when there was a loud knock on the front door. Glancing out the window, she saw a small white car in the driveway. Whoever it was knocked again, just as forceful the second time.
She couldn’t open the door. The alarm was enabled, and she still didn’t have a code. Standing there quietly, locked in a dilemma, she was relieved when she heard Carmine coming down the stairs. “Whoever’s at the fucking door better have a search warrant.”
Haven stood in the doorway as he disabled the alarm and opened the door. Before he could say a word, someone shoved into him as they barged into the house. “You’re such an asshole!”
While Haven was stunned, Carmine’s expression remained blank. “Lisa.”
“How could you do that to me last night?” Lisa spat, glaring at him. The look on her face reminded Haven of Mistress Katrina when she yelled at Master Michael. She wondered what Carmine could’ve done to ignite such fury, but he wasn’t giving any indication of a response.
Carmine glanced toward the kitchen as Lisa cursed at him, and he smiled when he spotted Haven standing there. Lisa didn’t take well to being ignored and glanced behind her, noticing the exchange. “Oh, how cute! Is she the reason, Carmine? That bitch?”
Carmine's smile fell. “If you know what’s good for you, Lisa, you’ll shut up right now.”
“I thought you were better than that, Carmine. Look at her!” She glared at Haven. “So how much is Dr. DeMarco paying you to screw his son? Does he even know?”
Haven stared at her in shock, her expression setting Carmine off. He grabbed Lisa's arm and swung the front door open with so much force it slammed into the wall. He pulled her out to her car while she continued to yell. She tried to smack him when he let go, but he ducked out of the way. He started yelling—Haven couldn’t hear him, but she could see his mouth furiously moving. Lisa stood there with her eyes narrowed as he slammed his hands against the hood of her car before turning his back to her.
The oven beeped, the batch of cookies done. Haven pulled them out as the front door slammed, rattling things on the kitchen counter. Carmine walked in, pausing beside her at the window. “You should’ve answered it and told her I wasn’t home.”
“I couldn’t. I don’t have a code.” He looked at her peculiarly but said nothing. His silence made her nervous. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said. “I’ve known Lisa for a long time, and she got it in her head that I was gonna fall in love with her. She can’t grasp that she isn’t my type.”
Haven looked at him, surprised, as Carmine grabbed one of the peanut butter cookies from the rack. “She’s not your type?”
He shook his head and took a bite. “Does that surprise you?”
“Yes. She's a beautiful girl.”
“You think Lisa’s beautiful?”
She nodded. “She looks like she belongs on a magazine cover.”
He laughed dryly. “Exactly. She’s not real. I need someone who’s not afraid to get their hands dirty, and that isn’t her. Lisa would go schizo if she chipped a fingernail.”
Haven shook her head. “If she isn’t your type, why did you take her to the dance?”
He stared at her, taking another bite. “Eat a cookie. They're good.”
* * * *
Dr. DeMarco's car pulled up in front of the house as Haven grabbed a container from the cabinet to put the cookies away. The front door opened, footsteps heading toward the kitchen. Dr. DeMarco walked right over to her, pausing so close his arm brushed against hers.
Her skin crawled, his presence still alarming to her.
Dr. DeMarco grabbed a cookie. “Morning, dolcezza.”
“Good morning, sir,” she said. “What does that mean?”
“Dolcezza?” He took a bite, his expression carefree. She’d never seen him look so cheerful before. “Sweetheart.”
Sweetheart?
She continued to put the cookies away as Dr. DeMarco made himself a pot of coffee. She hadn’t dared to make any since the morning where everything went wrong. Dr. DeMarco munched on his cookie until his coffee was ready. Carmine walked in again as his father was pouring a cup, and they greeted one another before Dr. DeMarco walked out. Carmine hopped up on the counter near Haven once he was gone, grabbing another cookie before she could put on the lid. “Are you okay today?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He shrugged. “You had a nightmare.”
“I’m sorry if I disturbed your sleep,” she said. “I should’ve gone back to my room.”
“I don’t care about that, tesoro. You just worried me.”
> She could feel his eyes on her but didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m fine. I, uh… I don’t know why that happened.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “Why are you lying?”
Her heart raced. “Why do you think I’m lying?”
“The walls are thin. I can hear you at night.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” he said. “I just don’t get why you’d lie about it.”
Tears welled in her eyes at being put on the spot. “Because it’s not a big deal.”
“I know what it’s like, you know,” he said. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Well, if you change your mind, I’m all ears.”
He hopped back down, giving her a small smile before walking out. She brushed the flour from her clothes and finished cleaning up before heading into the family room where everyone had gathered. Carmine glanced at her from the spot he’d taken on the couch.
“Hey Dad,” he said, his eyes still on her. “I think I'm gonna teach Haven how to read.”
Fear shot through her. Dr. DeMarco raised his eyebrows and stared at her for a moment, seeming to contemplate it before looking at his son. “I assumed to teach someone how to read, you would have to know how.”
Carmine rolled his eyes. “I know how to read.”
“Yeah,” Dominic interjected. “Didn’t you know, Dad? He read the first page of Count of Monte Cristo.”
“Vaffanculo,” Carmine said.
Dr. DeMarco shook his head as he turned his attention back to Haven. “Take a seat, child.”
She couldn’t tell whether it was an offer or a demand, but she knew it was safer to just do what he said. She walked over to the couch and sat in the empty space beside Carmine. He had his feet kicked up on the table in front of him, slouched down with his arms crossed over his chest.
The room grew quiet as they watched the television, a movie about a guy named Hoffa. There was a knock on the door after a while, and she glanced around when no one got up to answer it. They knocked again before the door opened.
