POV Leo
The door slams behind me, and the noise reverberates throughout the house.
There's a quick rise and fall in my chest, and my blood is boiling.
As I come down from my rage, the warm blood in my veins freezes when I realize what I've done.
Behind me, I've left a crushed Victoria, and regret toward how I handled the situation seeps in, but it's too late. I've already said the harsh words.
I realize my outbursts confuse her, and why wouldn't they? She doesn't know I'm a bipolar asshole who doesn't know the first thing about being gentle.
The need to go back inside and beg her to forgive me increases, but I stop myself because I know if I go inside, I'll frighten her more than I already do.
Victoria's afraid of me, and to admit this hurts more than it should.
I saw her fear downstairs, and I saw it again ten seconds ago. She thinks I'm like Adriano, but I'm nothing like that bastard!
To see her flinch from my touch brings an inexplicable amount of grief. I never want to see the look of fear on her face again. However, I'm not doing a very good job. In fact, I'm giving her more reasons to be afraid.
I close my eyes for a second and sigh. When I open them, Angelo stands in the corner with a stupid grin.
A stiffness rises in my shoulders, and I glare at him. He rolls his grinning lips into his mouth, stifling his laughter as I walk past him to get to my office.
Once there, I try to focus on the documents I brought to France, but I quickly realize I won't be getting any work done because the guilt is eating me alive.
All Victoria wanted to know was when she could go home to her family, but I neglected her request. She needs to know my intentions toward her are not to harm her. I simply want to make sure she's okay to travel after what her body has experienced. Or at least I tell myself this. But who am I fooling? This isn't close to the truth. I don't want to let her go because the mere mention of her leaving fills me with rage.
Victoria is making me question my sanity.
A frustrated sigh escapes me when I'm consumed with selfishness to keep her with me for a little longer. It's not like I haven't done worse. Yet, I'm aware I can't keep her with me. She doesn't belong to me. She doesn't belong to anyone but herself, and I will let her go. But I first want to get to know her, even if it might make letting her go more painful. She's worth it.
I'm also not comfortable letting her go home while Adriano is still on the loose. The risk of her getting kidnapped again is high, so long as Adriano is alive and knows she exists.
The comment from Sofia about how they didn't see much of France enters my thoughts. With this in mind, I'm determined to make sure they both get the experience they came here for, and it's a perfect opportunity to get to know Victoria. Maybe then I can figure out why she has such a hold on me.
I can't help myself from wanting to get to know her. She's enticing, a closed book I want to read.
The problem now is getting her to trust me after I threatened her.
I groan in frustration. The consequences of my actions weigh heavily on my shoulders.
There's no way she'll trust me after the way I spoke to her.
My thoughts halt when I notice her picture under the stack of papers I'm supposed to be looking over.
The documents have information about the girls we rescued. I haven't been able to look at them until now. Victoria was on my mind the entire time, and I couldn't focus on anything other than her.
She had been out from the drugs for almost two days, and I worried something was wrong when she didn't wake up this morning. But this evening, when I entered my room to check on her and our eyes locked, I was both relieved and frozen in my spot.
I waited hours for her to wake up, and now that she has, I'm not sure how to talk to or approach her. She disorients me, and my men have noticed.
My curiosity gets the best of me, and I open the file. Allowing myself to read the brief note under her picture. The words on the page are like a peek into her life.
I sigh in relief when I read she isn't much younger than me, and I push the thought aside because her age shouldn't matter to me. Her life is miles away from my own. She lives a life different from the violence I'm used to. Soon everything will return to normal with her in America and me in Italy.
I scan over the words on the pages, and the back-and-forth tugging between my brain and my heart gives me whiplash. One moment I want her to be a part of my life, and the next I want her away from me to protect her.
I let out a nervous breath and rise from my chair. I need to apologize and make things right.
The entire walk toward Victoria I contemplate what I want to say, and my heart races when I'm at the door.
A slight pause comes over me, and my hand rests on the doorknob.
As I stand nervously in front of the door, I'm again reminded of how weak I'm becoming. Nothing scares me, and certainly nobody. Two facts which were true until today because now I'm afraid to face Victoria.
I take a deep breath and knock on the door before pushing it open. The first thing I hear is her soft cries. Her distress makes my spine lock up.
I open the door further to find her at the foot of the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. Her head is tucked tightly between her knees.
The cold, numbing sensation of guilt shoots through my body, and I pick her up in a flash. When I do, she makes a frightened sound.
"No, don't touch me!" She's hitting my chest, and I hold her fists, pressing them against my fast-beating heart.
"Please don't take me back there." Her voice rises with terror, and her distrust toward me brings a painful clench to my chest.
I place her on the bed, kneeling in front of her, and she's shaking. Her hands, which I hold, continue to fight me. I let her go. Uncertainty marks her features, and I swallow the lump in my throat.
"I'm sorry." There's a raw sincerity in my words that throws her off. "I would never take you back there. I shouldn't have said what I did." She's silent, staring at me, and her breathing comes out hard.
When she relaxes, I sit beside her, and she looks at me for a minute before giving a hesitant nod.
With slow hands, I reach toward her, and she flinches when I wipe the tears running down her high cheeks.
Victoria blinks, staring at me, her body slightly drawing back. She's afraid of me, and it's killing me inside. But I did this to myself.
We sit in silence until her soft voice breaks it, and from the sound of her talking to me, I relax.
"Why did you say it if you didn't mean it?" Her question is unexpected, and I don't know what to say because there's no excuse for how I talked to her.
"Because I'm a bipolar asshole," I say, and there's a slight tug on her lips when she hears my blunt response.
Victoria yawns, worn out from all the emotions of the past few days, and I rise from the bed. She watches me, and I don't know what she's thinking, which makes me anxious.
My stare falls on the dark bruise on her cheek and the fingerprints over her neck where they choked her. The muscles in my hands tense when I clench them.
She almost died in my arms, and if I didn't save her when I did, she would have died on that filthy bed.
When Victoria senses my anger at seeing her bruises, she hesitantly places a shaky hand over my right fist. Little tingles shoot up my arm.
She's swallows hard, and her eyes avoid mine. I'm not sure if she's nervous, scared or both.
I sigh, and before I know what I'm doing, I kiss her on the top of the head, and she stiffens under my touch.
Fuck!
I panic, not sure what to do.
What is wrong with me?
"Good night, Victoria." My voice is hesitant and shaky after what I've done. She remains quiet, and I feel her eyes pierce into my retreating figure.
When I'm outside, there's a peacefulness taking over my body, and it feels so good I never want it to end. I make my way to the room next door, relieved to have made some progress after I fucked up earlier.
Tomorrow will be a new day, and for the time being, I'm no longer Leo Bandoni, the Italian Don. To her, I'll only ever be Leo. But when my time with her ends, I will return to being the most feared mafia Don I'm known for.
A few days with her is all I need to show her France.