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“I don’t know either,” I say finally, resting my forehead against her hair as we remain like this for longer than we should.
* * *
I leave her room shortly after, sending one of my guards up to bring her tea and breakfast. I tell her to shower and to spend the day maybe messing with the camera I got her. I tell her that I’m busy with work, that I’ll be back later this evening. I don’t offer her anything else, but even still, I’ve given her more than I should.
I’ve let her peer inside of me, even if it still seemed like I was guarded. I gave her reassuring touches, permission to pass time how she pleases, even a fucking goodbye kiss. I acted like a total stranger and as I make my way to the kitchen later that day, freshly showered, I feel as confused and as frustrated as I did before I fucked her. And I know that I look exactly how I feel because as soon as my mother walks in to make a fresh pot of tea, she frowns at me.
“What now? Did you talk to her?” She asks, reading my troubled gaze like an open book.
“You could say that,” I mutter, sipping my glass of bourbon as I look down at the countertop.
“What’s wrong?” She asks, the feel of her eyes on me still present as I keep my gaze averted.
I don’t say anything. I just rest my elbows on the counter, my head hung low as I move my eyes from the glass of liquor to the marble countertops.
My mother is quiet for a moment, the whistle of the tea kettle the only sound echoing in the room. She pours water into a mug and goes to sit next to me, her manicured fingers resting on the counter as she sighs.
“You feel for the girl,” she says simply as she grabs her mug and blows away the steam before taking a sip.
I look up at her, my eyes narrowed as she shrugs at me.
“Deny all you want, but you’re my son. You forget that it is my job to know you. And I know that right now, even before today, you started to care for the girl. It’s why you haven’t killed her. Hell, it’s why you haven’t touched a single one of her family members,” she sighs, leaning back in her seat as she speaks.
“Dare I say, that you may even love—”
“I don’t,” I say harshly, cutting her off as I down the rest of my bourbon and stand.
I walk to the sink and rinse out my glass, then resting my hands against the basin.
“But you do care. Don’t you?” She asks as I turn around and look at her, her eyebrows raised in question.
“I don’t know, mama. Right now, I’m just trying to make sense of the shit show.”
“A shit show that you created,” she says, raising her mug at me as I scoff.
“Sure, whatever you say,” I mutter, crossing my arms as I look out the window.
You can see the garden from the kitchen. The sunset in the sky makes the flowers look otherworldly. For a fleeting moment, I wish that Lori could capture this shot. I wonder how beautiful she would make it look. And then, I wonder why the fuck I would think of something like that. Of why I’m picturing Lori in my garden, camera in hand as the sun illuminates her hair, her sundress blowing around her knees. I wonder why I was so soft when I left her earlier. Why I gave her that goodbye kiss. I wonder why I lingered a moment longer when the kiss broke. I wonder about it all.
“What do I do?” I ask suddenly, turning my attention back towards my mother who watches me from the kitchen aisle.
“If I give you my advice, would you actually take it?” She asks, staring at me with a hard expression.
“Depends,” I answer honestly, my response more like an exhausted sigh.
“I think you should spare her life and not only that, but tell her that you’re not going to kill her. Here this girl is, locked away upstairs forgetting what the real world feels like. Allowing herself to feel for you. You, who kisses her immediately after you threaten her. You’re doing more damage stringing her along like this, Marco. More damage than a bullet ever could,” she says, sipping her tea quietly as I mull over her words.
She’s not wrong in that regard. She doesn't even have to know that I took her virginity, that I will automatically stick inside Lori’s head for the rest of her life regardless if I kidnapped her or not. I took something from her that she will remember forever.
“So, I let her go?” I ask.
“Yes, Marco. You let her go. You do the right thing,” she says and I shake my head at that, clicking my tongue before I walk out of the room and towards the bottom of the staircase, staring up at Lori’s new bedroom door.
If I let her go, it won’t be easy. I can’t just release her to the world and expect nothing to fall back on me. But then again, I can’t keep her here forever. Especially now that we’ve fucked, now that my head is jumbled and confused. Now that she’s gotten under my skin and made me feel things that I don’t want to acknowledge. I won’t say the word love. I won’t do it. Because that’s not what this is.
I do not love Lori Saracino. Because if I did, everything would be ruined. If I let her go, it’s going to be on my terms, under my conditions. But knowing her, I can tell that option won’t be an easy one either.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
