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He cupped my cheek in his hand, thumb skimming over the heated skin that still prickled slightly from where Alberto had slapped me. I stared up at him blankly, retreating further into myself.
Lines of strain deepened around his eyes. “I’m not like him.” A hint of the feral growl returned to his voice, but otherwise, he remained calm and handled me with aching care. “I will never hurt you like that.”
I said nothing. He claimed that he wouldn’t violate me, but he was taking off my dress. There was only one thing he could possibly want from me.
His jaw ticked, but his hands remained gentle as he slowly drew down the zipper at the back of my dress. I shivered when the ruined garment dropped to the floor, leaving me in nothing but white lace underwear.
To my surprise, he didn’t remove them right away. He retrieved a brush and hair tie from the sink cabinet and quickly returned to me. Curiosity stirred in the depths of my detached state. I didn’t understand his strange actions, but I wouldn’t fight him. There was no point; he would inevitably win.
I slipped deeper into my composure, allowing my body to become gracefully poised and my expression to relax into something vacant and serene.
“Why are you doing that?” he asked, a sharp edge to the question.
I blinked up at him. “Doing what?”
He gestured at my body, my face. “This vapid doll act. Is it a passive aggressive guilt trip, or have I truly damaged you so deeply?” Those fine lines around his eyes deepened.
“This is how I always look,” I hedged, unease tightening my belly. No man had ever noticed that my composed mask was a lie.
His lips pressed into a grimace. “No. I’ve seen you, Nora. You’re far from vapid. You’re my wife. I want to understand you, so we can build a life together that isn’t miserable. I can’t make you happy if I don’t know how to read you.”
Surprise pierced my unease. “You want to make me happy?” I breathed.
Before, he’d said that happiness was my choice, as though he didn’t care one way or another.
He nodded. “I don’t want you to hate me. And I won’t play games with you. So I’ll ask you again: why do you put on that pretty doll act?”
I blew out a sigh. “It has nothing to do with you. I’m a dancer. I’m poised when I perform.”
His brow furrowed. “Perform?”
I shrugged. “That’s how I always act around men. It keeps me safe.”
“What do you mean? What men have made you feel unsafe? Alberto?” He scowled on my cousin’s name.
I gaped at him. “All men are dangerous.” How could he not know that? “If I ever displease my father, he has one of his guards punish me. Ballet taught me to be serene and composed. I learned a long time ago to draw on those lessons outside of the dance studio. If I don’t provoke anyone, they have no reason to hurt me.”
I was giving away one of my deepest secrets, making myself vulnerable to him. But somehow, he’d already figured out that my careful composure was a lie. Maybe it was because I’d let him glimpse my defiance far too many times since he’d kidnapped me and taken my virginity. He’d seen beneath the mask, and I couldn’t put it back on.
He curled two fingers beneath my chin, tilting my face back so that he could stare deep into my eyes, my soul. “I will never task another man with punishing you,” he vowed. “I will never brutalize you.”
I bit my lip, thinking of how he’d spanked me. That hadn’t been brutal or inflicted lasting damage, but it had effectively chastised me. My cheeks warmed at the embarrassing memory.
He traced his thumb over my mouth, encouraging me to relax. “I’m not like your father, and I’m not like mine.” His voice deepened, his eyes darkening. “My father beat my mother so badly that she was hospitalized. She became addicted to opiates after that. Two years later, she died of an overdose.”
My heart squeezed at his confession. I’d known that his mother was dead, just like my own, but I hadn’t known how she’d died. Luca’s admission was shockingly intimate. He’d made me vulnerable, but he was sharing something that made him vulnerable in return.
He cupped my cheeks in both of his big hands, cradling my face like I was precious and fragile. “I will never hurt you like that, Nora. I will not be that kind of husband.”
I swallowed against the lump that’d formed in my throat. I was so tempted to believe him. I wanted to believe him.
But I’d spent my entire life fearing men and their violent tendencies. Less than an hour ago, my own cousin had slapped me and tried to violate me.
Luca pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. “You’ll believe me one day,” he murmured. “I’ll prove it to you.”
I pressed my lips together, fearful that I’d spill more of my secrets if I dared to reply.
Luca seemed to understand that I wouldn’t say anything more, so he stepped away and picked up the hairbrush again. Shock loosened my tight chest when he gently ran it through my hair, careful not to pull at the worst of the tangles where Albertohad mussed it. I allowed him to continue in silence, my mind too muddled to come up with conversation. The act was strange but soothing. The bristles massaged my scalp, and after a few calming, quiet minutes, my hair was glossy and free of snarls.
