Saved: a dark romance Read online

  “No,” I gasped.

  She nodded, “Dare’s father bought me, put me in school with Tessa, and then I became her friend and then we, Tom and me, started ‘dating’.” She put up mock quotes.

  Wow.

  “He was good to me. Not so much to others. A lot of people said he was bad to the bone and a lot of people didn’t understand who he was to me. I know just a little bit about you. I also know just a little bit about your fiancé, enough to know how you feel when those around you can’t understand why you’re mourning someone they think is bad. I know your fiancé isn’t dead. But mourning can happen when you’re apart, too, I’d imagine.”

  I’m in a little bit of shock. No, a lot of shock.

  She continues. “I loved my husband dearly, even though I know he did some bad things. Tia, she loves Tommy more than anything and he is a man who can be hard to love, I’m sure. Dare has way more light than dark but believe me, he’s no angel. That guy’s got some marks on his soul, too. Your sis is 100% loyal to him and would be even if he were a bad guy. She would only see the good in him.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate you telling me.” I tried to smile.

  “Girls who have been through captivity, who’ve seen the things we’ve seen? I think it’s harder for some of us to love and trust genuinely, but when we do, with all we’ve seen and all we know about the reality of the cold cruel world out there? It’s a deeper level, I think. And it means we know how to overlook some things. Am I making sense?”

  I nod. She’s making so much sense that my heart and belly both feel funny.

  She pats my leg, “If you ever wanna talk, I’m here. Gimme your phone.”

  I pass it to her and she programs her number in and texts herself so she’s got my number.

  “Please keep to yourself what I’ve told you. I don’t know how many Ferrano secrets you’ve been told, but since you’re a member of the family through Angel, you should know… we all know what it’s like to love someone that others can’t fathom loving. We see things not everyone sees. Sometimes the bad guy shows the bad to the world but shows his good to his girl. We get protective of them and they need that from us. It helps them know who they truly are deep down.”

  I grab her hand. “Thank you, Lisa.”

  I don’t want to say anything about my specific situation. It’s mine and Alessandro’s and ours alone. But her words are helpful.

  She gives me a squeeze and we walk back out together as dinner is being served.

  My sister eyes me and Lisa and then she blows out a breath.

  Dario walks by her and kisses her temple, “You good, my baby?” he asks.

  She nods at him and then she looks at me and mouths, “I’m sorry.”

  I nod and swallow and I take a spot at the table between Lisa and Sarah. I’m right across from Tommy, who is kissing his wife’s knuckles one by one, looking into her eyes with this sexy hot expression. She’s beaming with a joyful look on her face, her free hand resting on her little baby bump.

  And I feel so jealous and simultaneously guilty for feeling jealous, that my insides feel like they’ve shriveled up.

  ***

  Will’s a nice guy. He seems to take everything in around me, takes protecting me very seriously. He actually burst into a Forever 21 changeroom to rescue me during a fire alarm.

  The other day, I went out without Angie. I wanted to go to the mall and she had house hunting plans with Dare, who wanted to buy them a house (probably because me and Will were cramping their honeymoon lifestyle in the condo) as soon as possible.

  She’d given me her credit card and told me to get more clothes. I’d been wearing yoga pants and jeans that she’d been sharing with me, since it was winter time and all my Mexico clothes were summery, but she told me to go and get some of my own.

  It was weird to wear jeans. I didn’t have any back home, in Mexico. Funny how I thought of that as home…

  The day after we arrived and I’d put a pair on of Angie’s jeans but I was walking almost stiffly.

  She jerked her chin up questioningly as I’d approached her at the kitchen island where she’d been making breakfast.

  “I haven’t worn jeans in over two years. It feels weird. And these are too short.” I was a few inches taller than my sister. This was new. Before she left for Thailand, I was slightly shorter.

  “I feel ya,” Ang said, “I spent two years with 99% of my time in lingerie, so I know.”

  Dare had looked up from his newspaper at her and his eyes held something both sorrowful and fiercely protective at the same time. It made my heart feel like it was swelling up to see that.

  I turned down repeated offers to go to the mall with her to shop and waited until the day I knew she was busy so that I could go without her. I was too worried that being alone with her would equal more questions, more negative talk about Alessandro. More arguing between us.

  At the mall, it also was weird but familiar, to wear a coat again. It was late January and cold in Portland. It wasn’t Alaska cold but it was colder than I’d been around in more than two years.

  Throughout the mall trip, Will’s fun personality broke down my somber mood a little and we got chummy. He was smart and funny, constantly cracking dumb, corny jokes. He was also kind of cute in a jock-next-door sort of way with his nice smile, curly brown hair, and big puppy dog chocolate brown eyes.

  We shopped and then we went for chili fries in the food court at the mall and talked movies and music and I didn’t get all the pop culture references because I’d been locked away the last two years with limited access to the media (we only got a handful of TV channels and I’d not gone online at all until getting to Angie and Dario’s). Back in Alaska we had a crap computer and a crap internet connection that we only had sometimes since Mom regularly didn’t pay the bill, so I wasn’t exactly techno-savvy.

  He teased me when I devoured a large order of chili fries. They’d been my favorite way back when, and I hadn’t had any fast food in two plus years so I really did devour them.

  It got awkward when I wanted to shop for bras and underwear and had to ask him to wait outside that store because I was way too shy for that. He was anxious about being too far away from me but reluctantly waited outside the store.

  But then when I was trying on a pretty dress that reminded me of the dresses I wore in Mexico (just a bit thicker fabric), the fire alarm went off while I was in the dressing room and Will busted the door to get to me before I had a chance to get fully dressed.

  He threw my sweater over my head - I hadn’t even gotten my arms into it - and me over his shoulder and grabbed my purse and we were outta there.

  We got outside and it was just a false alarm, which was a relief, but the whole thing was kind of embarrassing. He’d seen me in my bra and I’d had to get my shirt the rest of the way on in front of a crowd while he stood with his back covering me. My face was fuchsia!

  He explained that the state of emergency overwrote any sort of dressing room icons with skirts on them in a kind of arrogant alpha male way.

  He then apologized and told me that he was just taking my safety seriously. We went to an afternoon matinee movie after that and it was a slapstick comedy that we giggled all the way through.

  By the end of it, I felt like I’d made a friend.

  ***

  The next day was Saturday and Angie informed me that she and Dario had a date night planned and that she was going to surprise him with a hotel room. She said this, blushing. I blushed, too.

  Yep. Verbal confirmation that Will and I had been cramping their style.

  “I might be ovulating,” Ang whispered to me and I smiled big and blew her a kiss.

  “Blowing baby dust at you, sis.”

  She gave me a big giddy smile.

  Will knew from his chat with Ang that it was just he and I for the night and I suggested we watch some movies and I make dinner.

  I decided to make spaghetti and meatballs, the back of my mind on the fact that I’d s
ee what Will thought. He’d be like a taste tester, because I decided that it’d be the first meal I made for Alessandro as his wife. I had plans to perfect my recipe until I knew I would knock his socks off.

  ***

  I’m in full food prep mode, two burners going, sink overflowing with dirty dishes, when Will gets up from the sofa, where he’d been flicking through Netflix, calling out movie suggestions to me, but he got up because his phone rang.

  I hear him walking down the hall with it, answering, “Will Coulter here. Yes, sir… We are.” He steps out of the condo into the hallway.

  I stir the sauce and dump the cooked meatballs in carefully and then wipe the stove of the splatter that happened despite my being careful.

  I set the two placemats with cutlery and napkins up at the kitchen island. I turn the water on full blast to fill the giant pot to cook the pasta and start to load the dishwasher with the dishes I’ve already dirtied while prepping. As I’m shutting the dishwasher door, my body locks. I feel my hair going up, as if someone has the length of it in their hand. Lifting it.

  What on Earth?

  I lock tight. My initial instinct is that it’s Angie, behind me. She always loved to play with my hair, even when it wasn’t nearly to my waist. But Will is the only other person here.

  And I hadn’t been getting anything I could decipher as flirting vibes from him, so this very intimate touch puts me on high alert. It might not be Will. Will went in the hall. I’m not in arm’s reach of the butcher knife on the counter but maybe I can lunge if I’m quick.

  As I’m about to turn and react, the grip on my hair tightens and then I hear him. Not Will. Not some strange intruder. Him.

  “Mi pequeña flor,” Alessandro says under his breath. No, it’s more like he breathes it out, rather than saying it.

  I let out a relieved breath of my own and I sink back against him. I feel his heat, the hardness of his body. He still has my hair and he isn’t exactly being gentle but I still melt into him in a way that must tell him I’m relieved it’s him, that he’s here.

  “Dinner for two? Date?”

  “No,” I laugh and then try to turn around, but he traps me against him, using my hair to keep me where I am.

  “Who you cooking for?” His voice is low, against my ear, but it can’t be mistaken; it’s also lethal.

  “You.” I have goosebumps everywhere and I’m not sure if they’re the good kind or the bad kind.

  “You didn’t know I was coming.” His voice holds accusation.

  “I’m practicing. For you. I know it’s your favorite, so I thought I’d try to see if my recipe was good. I’d get Will to taste it and let me know. I haven’t cooked in a long time, but it used to be good---”

  “Will? Will isn’t to taste anything that’s mine.” His grip tightens, too tight, and I let out a little cry.

  “Has he tasted anything that’s mine, Holly?”

  I shake my head.

  “No?” he demands, then spins me around and looks deep into my eyes. I look up at him. I’m frozen. God, those eyes.

  “No. Of course not. I’ve missed you,” I say and my hand reaches up to touch his jaw. He catches my wrist and holds it tight. Too tight. His eyes are a dark, brewing storm.

  “Are you here to take me home?” I try to ignore the pain.

  “No. I saw photos of you and Will. Too cozy. I came to make sure you know who owns you.”

  “I do.” I give him a smile and the good kind of goosebumps are all over me.

  This seems to make him angrier. He’s frustrated with me. Good. I’m not going to let him scare me. I’m not scared. I’m elated to see him.

  “Let me get you a drink. Sit down. I’ll finish the pasta. I hope it’s good. Like I said, I’m out of practice.”

  The water is still running. The pot is overflowing. He looks at it and then lets me go.

  I lift the pot out of the sink, pouring some of the water out as I do, then put it on the stove and turn it on. The sizzling starts. The pot on the stove isn’t the only thing sizzling; I feel like the whole room is sizzling with raw energy.

  “Where is Will?” I ask.

  “I gave him the night off.”

  “Oh.” I go to the fridge. “Wine? Beer? Water? Gatorade? Root beer? My brother-in-law has a thing for orange Gatorade. There’s almost a whole shelf of it in here.”

  “Beer.”

  I grab a bottle and reach for the bottle opener in the drawer. He grabs it from my hand, twists the cap off, and chucks the cap into the sink. I lean against the counter and take him in. He’s wearing a black suit, a light grey dress shirt the color of some of the swirl in his eyes right now. Shiny black shoes. He’s clean shaven, no five o’clock shadow, and he smells amazing. I want to throw myself at him. Instead, I reach for a bottle of wine in the fridge.

  “You’re too young to drink,” he murmurs and takes a swig of his beer.

  “Depends where I live. I’m not too young to drink at home in Mexico.”

  “You’re too young to drink here,” he says.

  “I’m too young for a lot of things,” I tease, and fetch a glass from the cupboard. I’m shaky and I know he sees it. It’s so odd to be in his presence here in Ang and Dario’s apartment.

  “Does Dario know you’re here?” I ask, conversationally. He comes over and takes the wine opener from me and opens the bottle and then pours me a glass.

  He shakes his head, “I don’t answer to Dario.”

  I shrug and quip, “It’s only his apartment.”

  “But you answer to me.” He eyes me up and down.

  “Do I have something to answer for?” I ask.

  “Do you?”

  “There’s accusation all over your face,” I point out and sip the wine.

  Truth be told, I don’t usually drink wine. I don’t really like it. It makes me think of old socks and I have a vision of Lucy and Ethel from I Love Lucy squishing grapes with their bare feet, which doesn’t help. But I sip it anyway.

  He flexes his jaw muscles and continues to glare at me.

  I turn away and stir the sauce on the stove and then I turn around again to look at him. I’ve caught him staring at my ass. I guess it must be odd for him to see me in jeans, too.

  I’m wearing very skinny black jeans. My feet are bare, but I’ve got pale pink nail polish on my fingernails and my toenails. I’m wearing a baby pink cashmere sweater that is slightly off the shoulder with a whole lot of back cleavage, but I’ve got a black lacy racerback bralette underneath. I’m wearing pink lipstick and black eyeliner.

  “Do you like what you see, Alessandro? Or should I call you Lex?” I grab the wineglass for more liquid courage.

  He smiles but it’s a little bit dangerous-looking and his eyes have gone even darker.

  “I saw that name on your login and twice heard Dario talking to someone on the phone on hands-free called Zack and they referred to you as Lex. Dr. Jimena said it’s your nickname?”

  “You can call me baby.” He’s suddenly got me pinned against the counter with his body. He takes my wine and sets it beside me. His hands go to my hips, his mouth is now barely an inch from mine, “Or master. Or whatever you think I am to you. What do you wanna call me?”

  “My fiancé?” I ask, hopefully.

  He reaches into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulls out a little blue box.

  “Speaking of which.” He pops the ring box open and my heart misses a beat.

  It’s a square diamond on a platinum (I think) band. It’s big. Not ostentatious or gaudy, but it’s gonna draw attention. It’s gonna scream at anyone looking that ‘she’s engaged’. He slips it on my finger and then backs away.

  “Wow.” I say, looking at it. It’s breathtaking. “I love it. Thank you.”

  He’s just staring at me, jaw ticking, almost like a ticking time bomb.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” I tell him, hoping to alter his mood.

  He flinches.

  “Have you missed me, Lex?”


  He flexes his jaw.

  I scrunch up my nose.

  “Lex,” I try again and then I shake my head. “I don’t think Lex suits you. You’re Alessandro to me.”

  There’s weighted silence but there’s this weird look on his face and I feel a stab of unease.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  “No,” he says simply.

  But, it’s not something simple. I can tell.

  “Is there anything I can do?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he says.

  “What?” I want to reach for him. I can tell by looking at him that it’s even more of a bad idea than usual.

  He stares at me a long moment.

  “Finish making that food for me.”

  “That’s something I can do,” I say with a giggle, but he moves in again.

  “And then tell me you know who owns you. Tell me you aren’t remotely interested in your bodyguard, a guy who wants you.”

  My smile vanishes. “He doesn’t. And I’m not. Not remotely.”

  “He does. But maybe it’ll make him that much more protective. So long as he doesn’t act on it. If he so much as hints that he’s gonna lay a finger on you, you open and push that locket.”

  I swallow. “He wouldn’t.”

  “He better not. I’ll be communicating that to him before I go.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “It is.”

  “He saw me in my bra and he didn’t even…like…”

  Oh shit. Immediately, I can tell this was the wrong thing to say. He’s on the move, about to go somewhere, likely to hurt Will.

  I grab his arm. He glares at me, at my hand on his arm, like I have a whole lot of nerve grabbing him like that.

  “A fire alarm went off while I was in a changing room in a store. He came in, didn’t even look at me, threw my coat over me and rushed me to safety.”

  He stops and takes a breath.

  “He doesn’t touch you. Ever.”

  I shake my head.

  “You don’t ever forget who owns you, you understand me?” He backs me up against the wall. I’m looking up at him and my heart is racing.

  “I couldn’t if I tried.”