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“I spoke to the editor-in-chief, and the paper already posted a retraction. Unfortunately, they went into some detail explaining the confusion between your sister and you in the image and the date.”
“Some detail?”
“A very abridged version of your sister’s death and your trial. They used it as a weak excuse for why they believed the allegations brought to them. I’ve already filed a defamation injunction to keep them from pushing this further. But you know libel isn’t easy to prove despite this meeting the three conditions. And you know injunctions for defamation are hit or miss. But my hope is it will slow things down. Since we acted swiftly, and I know the editor-in-chief, they’ll see this will cost them far more than they will gain. And I mean truly cost them money.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, but this is why you must remain squeaky clean, Sinead. There can’t be even a hint of impropriety. The firm won’t tolerate it, and your career won’t survive it.”
“I know, Marta.”
“I’ll have Ashley make the arrangements and text you the hotel confirmation. I’ll send a driver once you let Ashley know you’re being discharged.”
“I appreciate it.”
There’s not much more I can say, so we end the call. I haven’t taken my eyes off Gabriele, and now he’s openly watching me too. I don’t know if he could hear any of what Marta said, but I think he’s already guessed what’s coming. He appears casual in his seat, but he’s anything but. He’s more like a lion surveying the surrounding savannah, poised to strike when he needs to, while completely in control of everything.
“What did your boss have to say?”
“She doesn’t want me staying in a safe house your family provides. The firm will get me a hotel room and a bodyguard.”
I tense.
“Good.”
Is that all? He was resistant to that idea only hours ago. Now he’s fine with it? What the hell changed while I was sleeping? Hurt and disappointment make tears burn the back of my eyelids.
“Sinead, we will get the rooms beside and across from you. Men will be in the lobby and stationed outside any back or side doors. They can hire whoever they want to stand outside your room. Let them think they’re handling it. It’ll smooth things over and make your boss worry less. But you are not protected to my standards unless it’s my men. They will be discreet.”
He says it so nonchalantly that it almost feels flippant. At least until that end bit.Protected to my standards.It sends a shiver along my spine, and I hear not only the promise in his voice but a warning manifested into the universe to anyone who might come near me. He stands and shoves his phone into his pocket before two wide steps bring him to my bedside. He tunnels his hand into my hair and holds my head in place as he leans forward.
“We might be on pause, but you are still mine, Sinead. No one touches what’s mine and lives to tell the tale. If you want to walk away, all you have to say is you want out. But as long as you agree, I will take care of you.”
“Thank you.”
I stop myself there. I want to say more, but I would regret it if I did. We’re on a pause, but I’m still his. It sounds contradictory, but I get it. We can’t date, and we can’t fuck. But I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want to sleep with anyone else, and I don’t want anyone else emotionally close to me either. When I repeat the words to myself, they sound possessive and controlling to an extreme. But when Gabriele says them, I feel safe. Not for a moment do I think he'd keep me from friends or family, imprison me in some metaphorical or real prison, abuse me for disobeying him. Just the opposite. I think he would give me all the freedom I could ask for and make sure I’m happy and safe with it.
“You’re mine, too.”
“I have been since the moment I saw you,piccolina.”
Goddamn, that voice. It’s like Charlton Heston and Jensen Ackles had a voice baby, and it makes my pussy ache. It’s the perfect blend of gravelly one moment and smooth the next. Even though we’re alone, he leans forward to whisper in my ear, and it makes my tits silently beg for him to suck them.
“The next time we have sex, you can fuck me however you want because I’m yours. After that, I decide.”
“Yes— sir.”
Once more, I catch myself. I hope I sound breathless with desire and not like I’m trying to hide something. When he leans back, I know I failed, but he doesn’t press me. He drops a soft kiss to my lips and lets me go. I want to grab his arm and hang on as he backs away, but then I hear someone opening the door. Did he hear them before me and know they were there?
He nods, and I realize he knows what I’m thinking. It’s disconcerting.
“Ms. O’Malley, I’m Dr. Halgren. I’m glad to see you awake this time. How’re you feeling?”
“Much better. More rested than I have in ages.”
He looks at my monitors and reads the printout that’s practically floor length at this point. He seems satisfied with the peaks and troughs that represent my heart rate and I’m guessing my oxygen levels or something like that.
“You’re ready to be discharged. I’ll have a nurse come by with your paperwork. I’m prescribing you three one-milligram tablets of lorazepam to have on hand in case another panic attack begins. This is meant to abate the symptoms long enough for you to reach your mental health provider not to treat an anxiety disorder.”
