Collateral

by Natasha Knight

  “Go have one in your own room.”

  He undoes his belt, then the button of his pants. “This is my room now. I can’t have you wandering around in a construction zone. It’s unsafe.”

  “You said…you can’t.”

  He walks toward me, tips my chin up. “That’s where you’re wrong, Princess. I can do whatever I want.” He cups the back of my head and pulls me to him, then kisses my forehead, holding his lips there for a long moment. It’s like a marking, a branding. Like I’m his.

  When he releases me, I stumble backward. He disappears into the bathroom. He doesn’t bother closing the door and a moment later, the shower goes on. “Join me if you want,” he calls out.

  “In your dreams,” I say but not loud enough for him to hear. I go into the other bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

  I realize I don’t have pajamas with me. With the alternative being sleeping in my underwear, I slip into the bed in my dress and turn out the lights. It’s a big bed. He’ll sleep on the other side.

  The shower switches off and a few minutes later, I hear Stefan walk into the bedroom, feel the comforter lift and the bed depress as he climbs in.

  And he doesn’t sleep on his side. He takes up the middle.

  In fact, not a moment later, his heavy arm drapes over me and he pulls me backward toward him.

  I gasp, try to get free, but he’s too strong and when my back is plastered to his front, I can feel that he’s naked and I freeze.

  “Why are you still dressed?”

  “I didn’t pack pajamas.”

  “Neither did I. Take off the dress.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’ve seen naked women before, you know.”

  “I know.”

  He tugs me closer, curling his body around mine. “Suit yourself.”

  I squirm but he holds tight. “Can you put something on?”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “Grow up.”

  I shut up. It’s quiet and all I can think about is his big hand on me, his big, naked body behind mine. I can’t sleep. I won’t be able to. No way. But he seems to have no trouble at all.

  “Thank you for not hurting him,” I say quietly after a few minutes.

  “It’s okay,” he answers, surprising me. I thought he’d fallen asleep.

  “I’ve never slept with a man in my bed,” I tell him for reasons I can’t understand.

  “Well, it’s not a big deal. Just go to sleep.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Stefan…I’m not ready—”

  Before I can finish, he rolls me onto my back with a hand across my belly and lifts himself up a little to look down at me. He doesn’t switch on the lamp so I can only make out his dark features in the light that comes through the split in the curtains.

  “Nothing is going to happen, Gabriela. We’re just sleeping.”

  I bite my lip and I don’t know what I’m feeling. Embarrassed. Inexperienced. Out of my league.

  The image of Clara naked and gliding across the pool the other night, her clever words and sophisticated confidence earlier this evening flash across my memory.

  “I’m not going to touch you. Not like that,” he adds.

  “Okay,” I say quickly, hoping he can’t see me clearly either because I can feel my eyes filling up with tears. I don’t know what it is that does it. If it’s his words or the way he says them because there’s a tenderness in them. A gentleness.

  He rolls me back onto my side and resumes his position behind me and I don’t move to wipe away the tear that slides over the bridge of my nose and onto the pillow.

  I don’t know what this is.

  If he were brutal, it would be easier.

  If he made me hate him, I could do this.

  But this? I’m at a loss.

  “Goodnight, Gabriela.”

  I want to say it back, something as innocuous as that. But I’m afraid to open my mouth, to speak because he’ll hear that I’m crying, and I can’t have that.

  And I keep thinking that he’s right. I betrayed him tonight. I did more than push him when I compared him to my father, a man he loathes. A man he’s vowed to destroy no matter the cost. And my going to Alex, I didn’t give it a second thought, never once considered telling Stefan about Alex. Asking him to take me there himself.

  I behaved the way I would with my father. And as much as I want to believe Stefan is exactly like him, as ruthless as him, as cruel, what he did tonight, all of it, it’s not what I expected from him.

  And that’s the hardest part of all.

  17

  Gabriela

  When I wake up in the morning, I’m alone, and I feel embarrassed when I realize I’m turned toward his pillow and my arm is laid out across his side of the bed.

  Did I do this while I slept? Turn into him? Wrap myself around him like those women at the pool did yesterday?

  I have to be careful. I have to remember that he’s much more experienced than me in every way. And I have to remember that no matter what, he has a purpose for what he’s doing.

  I am collateral damage. That is all.

  Last night, he came across as caring because I’m pathetically starved for that kind of affection. Hell, for any kind of affection. And his touch, his arm around me, his body solid behind mine, as good as it felt, it means nothing to him.

  I mean nothing to him.

  I am a means to an end. To my father’s end, to be specific.

  Didn’t he say as much?

  I push the covers back, forcing myself to look at the brutal truth. To remember it and not let myself become confused or ridiculously infatuated.

  He was also full of shit when he said he wouldn’t punish me. He took my iPod, my only means of communication with Alex, and the fake passport. I didn’t even think to try to get them back or argue. Last night was an insane whirlwind of events and emotions.

  I get up, have a shower and put on the now wrinkled dress because it’s that or the evening gown. I open the door to go downstairs only to be greeted by a soldier standing guard beside my door.

  Did Stefan station him there when he left? And when did he leave? As soon as I fell asleep? I wonder if Clara’s staying with Uncle Jack too. All the cousins cozy in one house, in one bed.

  I muster my courage and step out into the hallway.

  The guard doesn’t stop me but when I make my way down the hallway to the stairs, he follows.

  I look back over my shoulder. He keeps a stony face. I just give a shake of my head and walk down to the first floor, following the smell of bacon, eggs and coffee.

  A buffet is set up in the dining room and as soon as I enter, a woman in uniform comes from the kitchen and greets me.

  “Good morning,” I say, eyeing the coffee.

  She explains for me to help myself to everything.

  When I ask her if she knows where Stefan is, she just shakes her head.

  I get myself a cup of coffee and take a big sip before making a plate of food. I didn’t eat much last night and I’m hungry.

  I’m just sitting down to eat my first strip of bacon when Stefan walks into the dining room. He’s been working out because he’s got his shirt off and is using it to wipe his face. It takes all I have to drag my gaze from his bare, sweaty chest. From that tattoo over his heart. From all that muscle beneath tightly stretched, tanned skin.

  Rafa follows close behind, the two of them talking.

  “Good morning,” Stefan greets me.

  My heartbeat picks up and I give him a quick smile before shifting my gaze to Rafa who has a casual expression on his face.

  “Missed you on our run,” Rafa says.

  It takes all I have to not mention last night. To not remind him how cruelly he’d gripped my arm. To not point out the bruise he left.

  Stefan pours himself a big glass of ice water and leans against the buffet, watching us.

  “No o
ne invited me,” I tell Rafa while glancing at Stefan over his shoulder.

  Rafa picks a strip of bacon out of the platter on the buffet and stuffs it into his mouth. I see how his eyes move to that bruise. Does he recognize his own handprint?

  “I’m going to go shower, Stef,” he says.

  “Good idea. Losing makes you stink worse than usual.”

  Rafa flips him the finger and walks out.

  “So he can flip you off but I can’t? Seems like a double standard when the rules come to me.”

  Stefan refills his glass and comes to sit in the chair beside mine.

  “You’re in a mood.”

  I glance to the arched entry of the dining room. “Waking up with a guard at my door will do that. Not to mention having my iPod confiscated along with my passport.”

  “Fake passport. And not a very good one.”

  “Still mine.”

  “What do you need it for?” he asks, picking bacon off my plate.

  “I don’t. I just want it.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  He shrugs a shoulder. “Fine. I don’t have it on me,” he says, leaning back in the seat. “But you can have it back if you want it. I have no use for it.”

  That’s it? I can just have it? “What about my iPod?”

  “How old is that thing?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it. It works just fine.”

  “That too. I’ll get it back to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to isolate you,” he says, using my own words. “You have shitty taste in music by the way.”

  “You listened to my music?”

  “Only as much as I could stand.” He grins, takes the last piece of bacon off my plate.

  I slap his hand away. “Get your own.”

  “I like yours,” he says, watching me and I don’t know if it’s that he’s more relaxed now than usual or the fact that he’s half naked, but it’s hard to focus.

  A sound interrupts us and a moment later, a sleepy Clara walks into the dining room wearing a nightie that’s so short and so see-through, I don’t know why she bothers. She’s barefoot and I’ve never felt anything like this against any woman ever, but Christ, even her feet are perfect.

  When she sees us, she starts to say good morning but yawns and makes her way to a cup of coffee.

  I look at the wall just beyond Stefan’s shoulder as he makes a comment about too much champagne and she laughs. I’m relieved when she leaves with her cup of coffee instead of sitting down with us.

  “Did you sleep well?” Stefan asks when she’s gone. Is he taunting me?

  “Not really,” I lie.

  “You have a cute little snore.”

  I feel my face heat up. “I don’t snore.” I don’t know why I say it. How would I know if I snore and why would I care?

  “You’re sweeter when you’re asleep, too. All soft when you curled up into me and even reached out for me when I got out of bed.”

  “Shouldn’t you go shower?”

  “Does it bother you that I’m not wearing a shirt?”

  “No. It’s not…” I clear my throat. “I hadn’t noticed,” I lie badly.

  “Right.”

  “I’m not interested in you, Stefan.”

  “Don’t be so defensive, Gabi.”

  “Then don’t make fun of me, Stef.”

  “I’m not making fun of you.”

  “Did you slip out of bed for that?” I ask, gesturing to where Clara was just standing.

  His eyebrows knit together and a moment later, he exhales. “Is that what this is about? I already told you—”

  “That you’re kissing cousins. Got it.”

  “I don’t think I said that.”

  “You didn’t deny it either.”

  “Well, we’re not so don’t be stupid.”

  “I’m not being stupid. And you shouldn’t have slept in my bed last night. You took advantage—”

  “Enough. I did not take advantage of you and you know it.” His expression hardens, and I can see him growing angrier as he speaks. “I’m a man of my word. I realize you haven’t had many of those in your life but do not ever accuse me of taking advantage of a vulnerable girl. And for your information, last night was me making sure you didn’t do anything stupid and force my hand.”

  I swallow, unable to answer.

  I’ve poked the bear and now he’s awake and hungry.

  “Do you remember the morning I came to get you, Gabriela?”

  I’m not sure where he’s going with this but yes, I remember. How could I forget.

  I nod.

  “That’s good. Do you remember what happened when you mouthed off then?”

  I narrow my eyes at him, thinking how different this version of Stefan Sabbioni is to the one of last night. How this is the real Stefan. The one I need to remember.

  “Did I make a mistake not punishing you last night?”

  I swallow and it takes all I have to hold his gaze. But I can’t show fear. I can’t show weakness.

  I clear my throat and push back from the table. When I move to stand, he clamps a hand over my knee to stop me. I look down at it.

  “I asked you a question.” I hear the warning in his voice.

  I lift my gaze to meet his. “Get your hands off me.”

  His eyes narrow. “I already told you, I’ll touch you whenever and wherever I please. Remember, respect is a two-way street, Princess. Now answer my question. And be careful, Gabriela.”

  “No,” I bite through gritted teeth.

  “No what?”

  “No, you didn’t make a mistake.”

  It’s another minute before he pulls his hand away and another until he stands, and I see how the muscles flex when he lifts his arm to run his fingers through his hair, his expression annoyed or ruffled or something.

  “Get packed and ready to go. You’re leaving.”

  18

  Gabriela

  He shipped me back to the house in Palermo before lunchtime. Stefan and Rafa, and presumably Clara, stayed behind. I guess they’re spending the day in Rome shopping and having fun and doing whatever the fuck it is they do.

  But true to his word, he gave me back my iPod and the fake passport and I text Alex as soon as I’m alone to make sure he and his aunt are okay.

  He tells me Stefan sent someone to fix their door and that they’re fine.

  That surprises me. Why would Stefan do that?

  But then again, he did break it so why shouldn’t he? This doesn’t make him a saint or something.

  I spend the day on my own and this time, I put on one of the bikinis, a simple yellow one, and sit on the edge of the pool to stay cool. I take a long nap in the afternoon and have dinner on my own and by nine in the evening, I’m bored and fed up.

  From the patio, I can see the lights of Palermo and if I listen hard enough, I think I hear music on the beach but I’m probably imagining that.

  I find Miss Millie in the kitchen. “I need something to do,” I tell her. “Can I go for a walk or something?” I hate asking permission like this, but it was the same at home.

  “Oh, I don’t know—”

  “Just a quick one. Maybe—”

  “What about a book?” she asks.

  “A book?” I love reading but I finished what I brought, and I haven’t seen so much as a magazine in the house. Stefan doesn’t strike me as the reading type.

  “I don’t think you’ve seen the library. Come on.”

  I follow her. “There’s a library?”

  She smiles. “Well, it’s small but maybe you’ll find something to occupy your time.”

  I’m surprised to see her take out her keys to unlock the door to the library, which makes me wonder why it’s locked at all. But as soon as we’re inside, I realize.

  So much for Stefan not wanting to isolate me.

  “This is great,” I say, looking around, pretending I don’t see the phone on the
far table.

  Miss Millie pulls the curtains open. “He should open this up,” she says under her breath.

  “It’s a beautiful room.”

  “It’s where Laura, Stefan’s mother, spent most of her days. She got bored too, what with Antonio and the boys always attending to business. I think it holds a lot of memories for Stefan. He used to love coming in here with her when he was little.”

  “I understand,” I say, running my fingers along the spines on a shelf. “Is it okay if I borrow a few?” I ask her, hoping to hide my excitement at my discovery of the phone. “I take good care of books and—”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course, you can. It’ll be good for someone to use Laura’s library. She’d have preferred that over leaving the books to sit unread and unloved collecting dust on a shelf.”

  “Thank you, Miss Millie.”

  “I’m glad to see your spirits lifted.” She smiles at me. “He’s not a bad man, you know. Just had a hard life.”

  I just smile back because haven’t we all? I don’t and won’t feel pity for Stefan Sabbioni.

  She doesn’t close the door when she leaves and as much as I want to run to the phone and make my call, I don’t. I need to be patient. If she catches me, she won’t let me in here again.

  But there’s enough to occupy me.

  I take three books off the shelves and curl up in one of the armchairs but before opening the first, I notice a large, leather-bound photo album on the lower shelf of the table between the chairs.

  Leaning down, I pick it up, and note how it’s not dusty in here so they must clean it regularly even if it is unused.

  I wonder when the last time someone opened this was because it almost creaks when I open it.

  The photos inside are older, some yellowing a little. Not the quality of photos now but as I flip through the pages and read the hand-written captions underneath each picture, I realize this is Stefan’s mom. Laura. His father I recognize from photos on the internet, but he’s much younger in these.

  And then there are the boys. Antonio and Stefan.

  I peer closely at Stefan as a toddler. He was a cute kid. It makes me smile to see him at the beach in his underwear with his chubby little thighs and round belly. I guess his brother has just knocked over the sandcastle he’d made because they’ve captured the moment just before the scream.