Borrowed Bride: Chapter 7

“Can I get you anything?” Tara asks from her spot in the doorway. “You’ve been in here for two days just cleaning.”

“It’s therapeutic,” I reply from my spot on the floor. “Marco said I could have this room for whatever I want, decorate it how I want and stuff. There’s just a lot to clear out, but I like doing it.”

Plus, as I clean, it gives me time to process everything I learned about Marco and his sister.

“Okay.” Tara nods. “Well, I will bring your dinner here later.”

“Thank you!”

With a wave, Tara is gone and I’m alone once more. Anton and Ben learned pretty quickly that I wanted to do this myself and have spent most of their time outside the door, guarding me against anyone who might want to disturb me.

I’ve cleaned out all the dressers, had all the seating removed because it’s not to my taste, and relocated all the books from the shelves to be cleaned and brought back in later.

As I work, my mind runs on a constant loop.

Emilia, Marco’s sister, is alive and living in secret in a closed wing of the house. The mysteries surrounding Marco deepen with each day, and I’m sure I’ll eventually lose track.

What struck me most about meeting Emilia was how Marco was with her. The weight of the world seemed to lift from his shoulders when he was with her, and I couldn’t help but notice the genuine affection between them.

He smiled at her. Touched her. Held such warmth in his eyes that I didn’t think was possible.

There’s more to him than meets the eye. And that, more than anything, makes me nervous.

Marco is much more complicated than I anticipated, which affects my own plans. Keeping your mark simple is the best way to an easy payday, but Marco is becoming anything but. Seeing that soft side of him also unlocked a strange yearning in my chest.

Could he ever be that soft with me? Do I ever want him to be? The sex was great and everything but this isn’t real. It can’t be. But the more I learn about him and his family, the deeper I sink into their net and it’ll be harder to claw my way out.

Dusting my hands along my thighs, I stand and stretch my arms long above my head. Cleaning and thinking is a good combination but I’m getting tired. I make a mental note to ask Marco if I can have a computer and turn to the gigantic wall unit that’s my next task. Marco told me many of the rooms in this manor have been in disuse for years because there’s no family here anymore.

Just him and his father. Dante. An angry man who seemed amusing the first time I met him, but learning how he wants to send Emilia off to a stranger doesn’t sit right with me. It’s uncomfortable and I can’t look him in the eye anymore.

Not yet, at least. In time, it will be easy.

I dust along the shelves and clean the glass the best I can until I come to a drawer that’s thoroughly stuck in the unit. Using all my strength, I pull, jerk, and wiggle the drawer back and forth until finally it scrapes free with a screech of wood against wood.

A chilling shiver steals down my spine at the sound and I shudder. Inside, there are countless old receipts, a couple of dusty books, and other odds and ends like buttons, a box of matches and some clothing pins. Yanking the drawer free, I’m about to tip the contents into a trash bag when something silver catches my eye.

A silver teardrop pendant. The dust vanishes in a single blow, and I eye the jewelry, unsure of what to do with it. Does this belong to Emilia?

I pocket the jewelry and resume cleaning. I’ll ask Marco about it.

Three hours later, I flop down onto my bed with a long, low groan.

“Ben tells me you’ve been busy,” Marco says, striding into my bedroom.

I prop myself up onto my elbows and watch him as he leans against the dresser. “Yeah. The room you gave me has all sorts of junk in it. When you told me the rooms weren’t in use, I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“We’re busy people,” Marco replies. “I got your message. You want a laptop?”

“Mm-hmm. So I can look up interior inspiration.”

Marco watches me with an unreadable expression, then he nods. “I’ll get you one. Goodnight.”

As he turns to leave, I surge upward. “Wait! I found this when I was cleaning. Did it belong to your sister?”

Pulling the pendant from my pocket, I hold it up for only a second before Marco is right in front of me, snatching it away.

“Where did you find this?” he barks.

I glare up at him as my fingertips throb from having the chain ripped from my hand. “Like I said, while I was cleaning. Is it hers?”

When I expect another explosion of anger, to my surprise, Marco’s face softens and he drops down onto the bed next to me. The weight of his muscles against the mattress forces it to dip and I slide slightly against him.

“No. This belonged to Fawn. I never thought I would see this again.”

“Who is Fawn?”

Another sister?

“She was the woman I was going to marry.”

My heart stalls slightly in my chest and an odd curl of tension worms through my gut. “Huh?”

Marco sighs deeply. “I suppose there’s no point keeping it from you. When I was eighteen, I fell in love with a brilliant, magnificent woman. I was angry back then. Angrier than I am now.”

I lift my brow. It’s hard to imagine him angrier than he is now.

“After what happened to my sister, I hated the world but Fawn was this beautiful soul who made everything better. She was the love of my life and I was going to marry her, but she …” Marco’s voice thickens. “She died. She was killed by her asshole ex who couldn’t take no for an answer and leave her be. I failed her. Like I failed my sister.”

Marco’s fist curls around the pendant, and when he looks at me there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. I can’t tell if it’s warmth or the lingering love for Fawn.

“So, Gianna. When I tell you this world is dangerous and that you should stay with your guards, and stay safe and not pry, I’m not being an asshole. I am trying to keep you safe. Do you understand?”

I do. More than I expect. I feel unexpectedly sympathetic. From Emilia’s story, Marco did everything in his power to protect her; what happened wasn’t his fault. It’s hard to imagine anything different with Fawn. Whether Marco has been dealt a bad hand or it is because of this life, I can’t tell, but it’s the most sincere he’s sounded since I met him.

“I understand,” I say softly. “And I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It was a long time ago,” Marco replies and he stiffens against me. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this.” He winds the pendant around his fingers and then slips it into his pocket.

“Of course.”

I’ve learned so much about him these last few days, and a new side to him is appearing. Suddenly, his prickly demeanor makes sense. He’s suffered the loss of two important people in his life—Fawn and his mother—and works daily to keep his sister safe and hidden. No wonder he’s so angry all of the time.

“I have something similar,” I say, unsure where the urge to share came from, but once I start, I can’t stop. “This.” I lift my hand and pluck at the faded thread bracelet around my wrist. “It was made by the first friend I ever made on the streets. She was a sex worker and she was so kind. A little bratty and harsh, but once you got to know her, she was an angel.”

Marco’s eyes dart between my face and my wrist. “It’s pretty.”

“You think?” I chuckle softly because he sounds utterly flat. “She vanished not long after she made it for me, but not before she taught me a thing or two about surviving on the streets. I always wanted to find her again but I never could.”

“Why?” Marco locks eyes with me and I’m pinned in place. “Why were you on the streets? You’re beautiful and charming. I find it difficult to place you there.”

“That’s because I’m smart,” I tease. Marco makes a noise that could have been a laugh and my chest constricts.

I want him to laugh with me the same way he laughs with Emilia—though I’m not sure when that started to matter.

“I just got dealt a bad hand.”

Marco nods and seemingly has no intent to press me. I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t care, or because he’s trying to respect my privacy, but the urge to talk once again rises in me.

“I was pretty neglected as a child. My father used me and my brother as a punching bag almost daily, so I learned to be scrappy and fast y’know? My brother turned to alcohol and stopped protecting me, and once I became a teenager, the abuse turned sexual.” My throat recoils at the word and I swallow hard. “I left pretty soon after that.”

Marco’s face is like thunder. “Your mother?” he bites out.

“She only cared about money and her man. I went to her for help, but in her opinion, I wasn’t paying bills and had to earn my keep somehow.” Saying it out loud to a man I’ve only known for just over a week leaves me feeling raw and exposed.

This isn’t a cover or a story. This is my truth.

“Gianna.” Marco’s tone softens so much that he sounds completely different. His words are like a lullaby rather than the barking snippets I’m used to. “I am so sorry. They should have protected you and cared for you. And your brother … he should have fought in your corner.”

I shrug, straightening my back as if to escape the pain knotting in my stomach. “He was a kid. He dealt in his own way. I dealt with mine. I ran away, turned to a life of crime you could say. I did things to survive. Things I’m not proud of. But that’s just the way it is, right?” I gaze up at him; his blue eyes are suddenly like the warm depths of the ocean. “We play the hand we’re dealt.”

“Indeed,” Marco says softly. He gently takes my hand and his touch is the softest it has ever been.

“Last I heard, my father died from a dirty needle, so that’s karma as far as I’m concerned.”

“I am sorry,” Marco says. “That I put my hands on you on the street and the greenhouse.”

“Marco, that’s not the same.”

“No, but it was surely unpleasant for you, and for that, I apologize.”

I don’t know what to say. An apology for that didn’t even cross my mind since his manhandling had left me hot and bothered. But here he was, suddenly apologizing for crossing a line he didn’t even know existed.

“I promise you will be respected here. No one will touch you without your permission, and I swear no one will hurt you. You may not believe this promise, but time will show you that it’s genuine.”

“I …” How do I respond to that? Marco is like a coin with two very different sides, and he’s flipping back and forth so quickly that I can barely process it. This side of him is the side that was with Emilia in the greenhouse, and it almost feels like I shouldn’t be seeing this kind of softness.

“Thank you,” I say after a moment, and I pat the back of his hand with mine. “Would you believe me if I said I was fine because it was a long time ago?”

“I tell myself that about my sister,” Marco says quietly. “Some things never ease with time.”

I understand him. It pains me, but I understand.

My stomach twists and a rush of heat washes over me from head to toe. Never in a million years did I expect to be having a heart-to-heart with this man, but when he looks at me, there’s a new warmth there that makes it worth it.

Marco stays with me. We talk long into the night about the past and the time he shared with Fawn, while I tell him a few truths and maybe tales about my time on the streets. He listens with careful intent and I grow so comfortable that when sleep comes and we fall into each other’s arms, I don’t question it.

But when morning comes, Marco is gone. I wake to a cold, empty bed and an absence of the warmth that was so comforting the night before.

As I sit up, my heart clenches painfully in my chest.

Why do I feel so oddly abandoned?