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She just stared at him, unable to find words. Her lover, her Master, the man she was falling in love with, was a murderer.
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t think I intended to kill him, although I wouldn’t have been terribly upset if he’d died, betrayed by an unreliable boat the way my brother had been. He’d murdered my only remaining immediate family. And no one would believe me when I tried to tell them.”
“Temporary insanity.”
He nodded. “Yes. But Jeffrey was the only one I blamed, not his wife, not his son. They were innocent. I was on the dock that morning so that I could witness my vengeance for Nico. I tried to stop them from boarding the boat, getting away from it before the explosion. She thought I was mad. I probably was. I threw the boy into the water but she struggled.”
“You saved their lives at the cost of your own.”
“That is why I was given a second chance, not because I saved them, but because I’d willingly died in the attempt.” He closed his eyes and shuddered. “Do not ask me to describe my penance but be assured, I suffered fully for my crime.”
She remembered his flat statement that he’d been tortured. At the time, she thought he’d meant it figuratively.
“How long?” she whispered.
“Time has no meaning there. There is no day, no night, only an endless sliver of eternity. But the first new man to arrive after my penance ended died on January 17th, 1989.”
Twenty years. He’d been tortured nonstop for over twenty years. She couldn’t imagine how he had endured with any shred of sanity intact.
“Why are you telling me all this?”
He gazed directly into her eyes. “I need you to understand. I made a mistake back then. Taking vengeance into my own hands, yes, but also believing that because I knew best, I had the right to act on my knowledge.”
He reached out and clasped her frigid hands in his. The warmth of his fingers slowly thawed her frozen skin.
“I made the same mistake earlier today. Knowing of a solution and having the means to implement that solution does not give me the right to make it so. The decision rests with you and your mother. You offered me your submission, a gift that I treasure, but that is not the same as handing over control of your entire life. Perdonilo. Forgive me.”
“You’re saying…you’re sorry?”
“More than that.” Moisture shone in dark brown eyes. “I sincerely repent my actions and will do my best never to make the same mistake again. I can offer information and guidance but I can not make decisions about your life for you.”
“Even if you’re certain I’m making a mistake?” she whispered. “Doing something stupid and foolish?”
“If that is true, I will tell you so and try to convince you to take another course of action. But it is your mistake to make.” He smiled softly. “We are not discussing your mother’s care any longer, are we?”
“No. Not really. She’s staying at home and I’m looking after her, like always. Maybe if you’ve got so much money to throw around, I could look at getting some help so I can take time off occasionally. But she’s finally starting to show an interest in getting a life again. It was only a little thing and she backed off immediately, but compared to what she’s been like these past few months, it’s a huge step. So she might not need as much help anyway.”
“Then of what are we speaking?”
Sam bit her lip. But after what he’d just confessed to, how could she feel nervous about her admission?
“I was married. My ex-husband said he loved me and wanted only the best for me, but that meant the clothes I chose were never good enough, I didn’t work hard enough at my exercise program, I ate the wrong foods, et cetera. I started doubting that I could make any decisions at all. I realized what was happening, left him and started over again. That’s why I didn’t want to submit to you. I was afraid you’d swallow me up, the same way he had.”
Master Giacomo snorted. “Such pathetic attempts at mastery are the mark of a weak man who must weaken a woman in order to best her. I do not wish you to be weak, mia tesora. It was your strength I relied upon when I faced the answer to what happened to Jeffrey’s family. And your compassion to listen to the entire tale before judging me.”
Sam pressed the heel of her palm against her breastbone. Her chest felt on fire, as if an explosion had torn through her heart and lungs, engulfing her in a fireball no less deadly than the one that had killed Giacomo. She couldn’t breathe. She gasped for air but her throat was too tight to give any relief.
“Sam? What is wrong, mia tesora? Do you need a doctor?”
She heard the rising panic in his voice. If she’d had the breath for it, she would have laughed. Wrong? Nothing was wrong. Something was very, very right.
“You value me,” she whispered.
He stared at her, as if he could no longer understand English, so she repeated herself.
“You value me.”
“But of course! Why else would I call you mia tesora, my treasure, if I did not?”
