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When he pulls me out of the closet, panic flares hot in my chest.
“No!” Instinct takes over and like hundreds of times before, I start to fight back.
My fists connect with bare skin, and I strain to get free, but strong arms wrap around me. I’m pinned to a solid chest, and it rips a cry from me.
“It’s okay, Gabriella. I’m here. You’re safe. No one can hurt you anymore,” I hear Damiano repeat over and over, and at some point, the words get through to me.
The fight drains from my body, and I sag against him as I suck in desperate breaths of air.
His hand brushes over my hair, and I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m here.”
He didn’t say yes.
It was just a nightmare.
When my breathing starts to slow down, he asks, “Feeling better?”
Nodding, I push away from him, and as I climb to my feet, a wave of intense embarrassment floods me.
Why did I react like that?
Dio. Damiano’s going to think I’m weak.
“I…I…” I stammer, my eyes flitting over the walk-in closet, the doorway to the bathroom, and just about everywhere but Damiano.
“What happened?” he asks, his tone deceptively soft.
Unable to avoid him, I lift my eyes to his face. His features are tense with anger, and it makes my heart sink.
Caro Dio.
“It was a nightmare,” I whisper. Disappointment trickles into my chest. “I’m sorry for waking you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
He moves closer, and taking my hand, he pulls me into the dark sitting area in my suite. He sets his gun down on a side table and takes a seat on the floral-print sofa.
He pats his thigh. “Come.”
I brace my knee beside his thigh as I climb onto his lap and place my hand on his shoulder. He grips hold of my hips and tugs me flush with his body.
When the heat of his muscled chest seeps through the satin fabric of the cami I’m wearing, it sinks in that Damiano’s not wearing a shirt.
Holy crap.
My cheeks heat up, but I still manage to meet his eyes.
“What was the nightmare about?” he asks.
Once again, I feel embarrassed, as I admit, “You said yes.” My stomach churns when the awful remnants of the nightmare shudder through me. “You gave your permission for Stefano to marry me. My parents held me down, and he…he…” I can’t finish the sentence and just shake my head.
Damiano lifts his hand to my face, and when his palm cups my cheek, it feels so comforting my eyes drift shut.
His hand moves to the back of my head, and he nudges me to rest my cheek against his chest.
Silence wraps around us, and it soothes me.
For the second time today, I find safety in his arms, and it makes it so much harder not to cry.
