Page 95 of Corrado

A part of her didn’t want to be here, either.

She left her sisters back there.

With them.

It made her heart ache.

She had to make a choice—her own freedom, or to sacrifice it. Except, when that freedom had been dangled in front of her fingertips, with the promise that it might be okay in the end, the first thing she had done was snatched it right up.

Greedy hands shaking, and all.

Was that selfish?

She didn’t know.

“What?” Corrado asked again, his tone softening slightly the second time.

Ginevra swallowed hard. “Sorry, I just remembered your name, that’s all.”

“And who told you my name?”

“Andino.”

Corrado nodded. “Don’t trust very much he says, let me tell you.”

“He’s the one who gave me this chance,” she replied quietly, “so all I have to go on about him is that he made the right choice for me.”

The man glanced her way again. “Arranged marriage, was it?”

“Not one I wanted.”

“One rarely does.”

He’d said that so dryly, and yet, managed to sound amused at the same time. Ginevra found, the longer she stared at him, the more confused she was about him, and who he was. How did Andino know the man, and was he someone she could trust? Where was she even going with him; where was he taking her, and what in the hell were they going to do once they got there?

She had too many questions.

And no fucking answers.

Ginevra’s heart grew heavier the longer she thought about it. Her sisters, without her and their mother … the fact she was now a girl on the run with a man she didn’t even know, that the engagement ring she had been made to wear was still on her fucking finger.

“God,” she mumbled.

Corrado glanced her way again.

She was quick to wipe away the tears that slipped down her cheeks, but that didn’t really help. The stupid things kept coming, like a floodgate had been opened, and now she couldn’t control it. She went from silent tears to hiccupping sobs in a blink, and she felt foolish for it, too. Not that she could stop it, now.

“Stop that,” Corrado muttered.

Ginevra dragged in a ragged breath. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

His sharp tone was back.

It made her cry more.

What was wrong with her?