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‘Why are you worried?’ He asked the question gently, perhaps concerned that she might devolve into yet another panic attack. Amelia was surprised by how tempted she was to be honest with him. But she’d confided in Daniel, and he’d taken that information and threatened to use it against her. Amelia had learned she had to keep her secrets close to her chest.
‘I’ve been away a long time,’ she said eventually, haltingly. ‘But nothing’s changed. This is going to be a disaster.’
Silence fell between them, heavy and thoughtful. ‘You know, I never had a family like yours,’ he said, so slowly she felt as though the words were being dragged from him against his will. ‘My dad was a mean drunk who seemed to hate me and my mother. He had a raging temper and would lose it often. She was browbeaten by him, and never argued back. After a while, I didn’t either.’
‘Were you afraid of him?’ she asked, leaning back a little, against Benedetto’s chest, craving that closeness, but also wanting to comfort him by being near.
‘He was not violent,’ Benedetto said. ‘At least, not physically, but his outbursts certainly had those characteristics. They seemed to erupt from him totally without his control, a temper that was fierce, unjust, unpredictable, and inconsistent. I felt at times that I was living on eggshells, not afraid for myself so much as my mother, who would wither a little whenever he shouted, belittling her with his cruel, awful insults. He would call her dumb, lazy, ugly, a waste of skin. His names for me were worse. Often he told me he wished I’d never been born, that I ruined his life just by existing.’
Amelia sucked in an outraged breath. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’
‘Yes.’
‘Did your mother leave him?’
‘No. She would still be with him today, I’m sure, if he hadn’t done us all a favour and died.’
She flinched a little at his words, but she understood them.
‘I was so glad, cara. I hated the man. He made our lives a misery and yet we were stuck with him. Many times, I contemplated running away, but I was worried for my mother. In the back of my mind there was always a risk he might become physically violent towards her, and at least by being there, I could protect her.’
‘Of course you felt that way. What an unfair burden for a young man to carry.’
‘When he died, there were mountains of debts in his name. The estate was a mess. I have never known anything quite like the pain of that poverty, and the joy of our freedom. It didn’t matter that we often didn’t have enough to eat, or spent weeks at a time sleeping in cars. We were free of him.’
‘Are you really, though?’ Amelia asked, genuinely curious, pressing a hand to his chest. ‘I’ve often wondered about the wounds left by a childhood like that. The insults spoken by someone who’s supposed to love you and instead treats you as though you’re worthless. Is there a part of you that still carries those wounds, Benedetto?’
‘I’m not stupid enough to deny that,’ he said with a lift of his shoulders. ‘We are all shaped by experiences, and for the first fourteen years of my life, I lived with a man who told me every day that I was worthless. But if he shaped me,’ Benedetto added, fixing her with a steady, cold gaze, ‘it was probably for the better. Every day I knew that I would never become like him. I would never allow my temper to get the better of me. I would control my emotions, not the other way around. I would be better than alcohol, gambling, addiction, cruelty. I would prove him wrong. And I did.’
‘Yes, you did.’
‘When I first met your family, I could not believe how loving everyone was. Your parents seem to enjoy each other’s company. They listen to one another’s opinions. They are the definition of a team. Your brothers are friends. It’s all so amiable and...nice. So warm. I cannot imagine what it must have been like, growing up in that environment.’
She stiffened, the mention of her family something she didn’t welcome, bringing their conversation to a place she refused to go.
‘To you, from the outside, I’m sure it did seem like that.’
‘Does that mean I’ve missed something? Is it your family you are afraid of?’
‘I can’t talk about it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I can’t.’ She pulled up to standing, frustrated, aware of him watching her as she paced to the window. ‘My family are fine. Loving, as you say. Almost to a fault. Whatever issues I have with them, and, like anyone, things they do annoy me sometimes and I’m sure that’s mutual, I still love them. I don’t want to hurt them. But I can’t...’ Her voice faded off into nothing as she ground her teeth. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She turned to face him. ‘Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?’
He looked at her long and hard, spectacularly naked, strong, handsome, desirable, so close to being perfect that she realised, belatedly, that was exactly the case: Benedetto was a mirage. Stranded with him, she saw only what she wanted to see, but, ultimately, he was going to hurt her, just as Daniel had. She had to accept that.
‘I’m sorry. I gave Anton my word.’ He rose then, coming to stand in front of her, pressing a finger beneath her chin and lifting it. ‘But I also think it is the right thing for you.’
Her smile was laced with sorrow. ‘That’s just something you’re telling yourself to assuage your guilt.’
‘They love you. Whatever you’re running from, they want to help you. Let them.’
She closed her eyes, the first step in blanking him from her mind, body, and heart. When they’d made love, she’d had some kind of hope that she could get through to him, that maybe he’d come to see things from her perspective, but now she realised: he never would. Sleeping with him was the best she’d ever felt but it was also a mistake, one she couldn’t repeat no matter how much she wanted to.
‘I’m not an idiot, Benedetto. When I ran away from home, I did so knowing how it would hurt them, knowing what it would mean for all of us. I did it anyway. I weighed up all my options and chose the one that was right—not just for me, but for them too. In fact, it was agony for me, but it had to be done. I did them the courtesy of keeping my reasoning to myself, but that doesn’t invalidate it. You’re infantilising me and treating me with a complete lack of respect by making me go home.’ She pressed a hand to his chest, pushed it lightly, then stepped backwards. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t say anything to ease your conscience. You’re doing the wrong thing, and you should feel bad about it.’
She was beautiful and softly spoken, the total opposite to how his father had been, and yet her words, so gently delivered, cut him to the quick more than almost anything had in his life. She’d called him out on what he was doing, echoing his own deepest-held misgivings, which he’d pushed aside purely out of loyalty to his friend, but hearing her charges, after what had just happened, put him in a position he couldn’t defend.
