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“I don’t know,” I whimper. “I just don’t want to be alone right now.” They might as well put me back in the box if they decide to leave me by myself. Expensive suite or not, it’ll feel vast and empty alone, and I don’t think I can handle it.
“Do you want to get in my bed, Lucia?” Victor’s voice is quiet, almostsoft, almostreassuring, and I stare up at him as I try to get a read on him. But I can’t. Like always, his expression is beyond deciphering.
They must have some sort of silent conversation because Saint and Victor take steps back while Angelo scoops me up into his arms. I don’t know what I expect, but taking me into Victor’s massive bathroom isn’t it. I freeze, remembering all too well what had happened the last time I’d come in here—when I’d been forced to pee on myself, even if it was in the tub.
But this time, Angelo takes me to the toilet while Saint goes to the tub, fiddling with the knobs until water is gushing from the pipes and into the massive tub. I don’t even have the strength to be embarrassed. It’s all I can do to walk, with Angelo’s help, to the tub and get in.
The water is gloriously warm, and some of the tension starts to bleed from my body. They’re bathing me. Saint is right there, and he doesn’t look angry at me anymore. He looks… soft.
But I remember all too well what he looks like when he’shard, when he’spissed.
I don’t want to see it again. I don’t wantanyof these men angry at me again.
Saint doesn’t take his time, instead bathing me quickly. All I can smell is Victor, though, as I’m doused in his soap, his shampoo and conditioner. I’m going to smell likehim, and I don’t even know what to think about that.
Not that I’m given much time to figure it out.
Angelo hovers nearby, watching, but he only goes to fetch a towel while Saint finishes rinsing me off. The two of them are careful when they help me out of the tub and rub me dry with the soft towel, and I want to weep all over again at their care.
I don’t know why they’re being so fucking nice to me, but my trembling body doesn’t care. I only care that theyarebeing kind to me.
Angelo lifts me up again, and I bury my face against the crook of his neck. He doesn’t take me far, even though I’m afraid he’s going to just drop me off at the suite and leave me alone again. Instead, he brings me to Victor’s massive bed and lays me out right in the middle.
Surprise overtakes the quiet despair, the shock, everything else that’s been floating through me while I try not to break the fuck down, and I tense against the soft cushion.
I feel more than see it when Victor gets in beside me, his bare chest resting against my arm even as his boxers rustle against my leg. I need it. I need all of this, the things I’d never have expected from my three tormentors.
On some level, I know I should be fighting them, that I should be making it clear they can’t confine me without consequences, but I’m too afraid of going back into that box… for longer this time. I can’t stand the idea, and that’s what makes me lean in and kiss Victor—plaintively, urgently, as one of my legs drapes over his and I pull myself closer.
Behind me, the mattress dips as someone else gets behind me. I don’t turn around to see who as Victor—to my surprise—kisses me back. An arm loops around me, and someone presses a soft kiss to the back of my neck.
Saint. It has to be Saint, because I can smell more of Victor’s soap on me from where he bathed me. I lift my head, glancing behind me to confirm that I’m right. He smiles at me and strokes my hair, kissing my throat again.
Victor slides his hand around my back, pulling me close again, but he doesn’t push for another kiss.
Again, the bed sinks down, and I glance up to see Angelo joining us. They’re all in their boxers, which is strange to see, and we’re all in the same bed—which is even stranger. I don’t know what to make of it, especially when Angelo spoons Saint and reaches out for me.
Saint squirms behind me, but he doesn’t try to break free. He just rests there, placing small kisses on my neck, my shoulders, my upper back… anywhere he can reach.
Meanwhile, Angelo touches my arm, sliding down to my breast and cupping it. There’s no pain, only gentleness, and I want to cry all over again at the tenderness they’re treating me with.
“Sleep, Lucia,” Victor whispers, his breath tickling my mouth from how close it is to my lips.
I freeze then shake my head. “I don’t want to sleep,” I say, unable to stop the panic from rising in my voice. What if they put me back in the box? What if they leave me all alone? I clutch Victor’s arm.
“Then what do you want, Lucia?” Victor asks, his voice caressing my name.
Not to be alone.
I don’t even want to be home, where my father’s plotting to marry me off to Pavone. I don’t know what else I want. I don’t know where else I would even go if I could. Just as far away as possible, but right now, the idea threatens to break me. I can’t be alone.
“Kiss me,” I plead. I want to ask for more, but I am so damn scared of rejection that I’m not sure I dare.
Victor presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “Like that?”
“More. Please.” I feel Saint kiss my shoulder, and I shudder. Everything is too much and not enough.
I take Victor’s hand and, trembling, rest it on my thigh. I look up at him, swallowing hard as I give the only hint I know of without completely making an idiot out of myself if he refuses me. He very well might.
