Page 67 of Sweet Prison
“Massimo?”
“Hush…” He brushes the back of his hand along my chin and slides his arms under me. “Let’s get you to bed.”
My weight seems to present no problem to him. Massimo easily lifts me and carries me without breaking a sweat. Once he lowers me to the bed, he pulls the covers up to my neck and takes a seat on the edge.
“I’m so sorry, Zahara.” His eyes are downcast, staring at the floor. “I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?”
“That you’ve never been with a man before.”
“Why does it matter?” I’m still shaking all over and can barely form the words.
“It matters, angel. It matters when a sick, selfish bastard almost took your virginity. A man who’s twice your age. One who should only be your protector. Who never should think of you… the way I do. I never should have put my hands on you. Tainted you like this. It’s sacrilegious.”
“We’re not related by blood. It’s not incest.”
“It doesn’t matter. If anyone ever finds out…Jesus… People will be pointing their fingers at you regardless of consanguinity. In the eyes of the world, I am your family,” he clutches the back of his neck. “Fuck! I almost ruined you!”
I reach out to touch his shoulder. “You wouldn’t have rui—”
“Yes, I would have,” he rasps, sounding defeated. Desperate. “This… us… it can’t happen, Zahara. I’m not going to wreck your life by besmirching you with my lust.”
I stare at his hunched back, fighting the tears that are threatening to burst free. I know him. When Massimo Spada decides something, no force on earth can make him waver.
“It may be best if I stayed somewhere else. I’ll make sure you’re still protected. A full security force will stay here with you. You can turn the house into whatever you want. There’s staff and the means for you to do it. After tomorrow’s meeting, though, I’ll move out.”
My lips quiver. “This isyourhome. You’d leave it just to get away from me? My presence here is that disturbing?”
Massimo turns around so fast that I flinch. “Don’t you understand? I can’t fucking breathe when I’m not with you, Zahara!” he growls into my face. “My lungs seize up, and I’m left gasping for air. Everything is a motherfucking wasteland, and I’m stuck in the middle of it. Choking. Dying. Day after day. I’ve slept in front of your door just to be close to you. The thought of not having you by my side sends me into a full-blown panic.”
He hits his chest with his fist as if trying to dislodge whatever mass has settled there.
“God, I wish I still had the handcuffs they put on me, just so I could use them to chain you to me. I don’t want to be away from you, and I never want you to leave me. Do you have any idea how sick that is? Can you comprehend how utterly fucking gone I really am?” He cups my face with his palms. “I will not ruin you. The rest of the world can burn in hell, but not you. You’re pure. My angel. And this… we… We can’t happen. Ever.”
I watch as he drags himself away and heads across the room. I’m shocked. Bewildered. Happy and completely devastated at the same time. He feels it, as well. This magnetic pull between us. The yearning. And still, he’s walking away. Just because my father married his mother, and that somehow brands this connection between us with an undeniable stigma.
“Don’t I have any say in this?” I bite out after him.
Massimo halts at the door, grabbing the frame with his hands. “You don’t.”
A sob rips from my chest, the physical pain overwhelming. How dare he crush my heart again! How dare he unilaterally disregard our feelings. And all because it wouldn’t be socially acceptable?
“I’ll pack my shit and leave first thing in the morning,” he continues. “It’ll be easier on both of us.”
I’m so tempted to bury my face in the pillow and bawl my eyes out. Accept the situation like I’ve always done—without a fight. However, I’m not that timid young girl anymore. The one too scared to lift her eyes off the floor.Hehelped me change her, without ever knowing his impact. I am not dropping my head. I am not letting him walk out of here. I am not allowing him to pull away from me, simply because of this stupid notion that I’ll be made a pariah. I don’t need saving. Not anymore.
“You’re not leaving.”
“Zahara…”
“If you do, I’ll follow you anyway. So let’s just skip the unnecessary packing and unpacking.”
The muscles on his arms tighten as he grips the doorjamb. “My self-control is hanging by a thread, angel.”
“I know. But practicing will do you good. You’ll need your restraint to handle the Council.” I turn around, facing away from him. “See you at breakfast,” I say in the most casual tone I can muster.
A minute passes. I grip the covers in my hand and wait. Another minute.