Hold You Against Me (16 page)

“Thank you,” I whisper to Ada.

She nods and turns away, leaving me to greet another old family friend.

At least, that’s what I would have called them before. Now I know they’re hardly friends. They’re vultures; Ada was right about that. I lift my chin and meet their gazes, determined not to bleed.

A hundred people later—or maybe only ten—I’m close to falling down. This is no different from the nights on Party Row. Oh, the jewels shine brighter here, but it’s the same. Posturing and smiling. Pretending and judging.

No one dares to whisper about me when I’m nearby, not with Giovanni at my side.

I know they’ll talk, though. I feel their looks burning into my back.

“Dance with me,” Giovanni murmurs.

He’s been an utter gentleman the entire night. He was always kind to me, but I never knew he had polite manners for such a formal social situation. Actually, he probably didn’t. He must have learned them since ascending to his title. And I don’t want to imagine another woman on his arm while he did.

“All right,” I say because anything that will take me out of the spotlight sounds good.

Except that the small crowd of dancers part when we step into the ballroom.

Giovanni turns back and holds out his hand.

It feels momentous somehow, as if he’s offering more than just a dance. Although what, I can’t imagine. Certainly not a real life together. Not love. This entire thing is a charade, the same way it was with Shane. He may as well be groping me at a cocktail table while someone brings around test-tube shots.

I place my hand in his, and heat shoots up my arm to settle low in my stomach.

That much is different, though. That much has always been different.

And then he brings me into his arms, moving me around the dance floor with such casual grace that my breath catches. Who is this man of elegance and power? I used to lie with him, sharing my headphones as we both listened to the music on my iPod. Now we’re dancing to a six-string orchestra.

His gaze is dark as he watches me, his grip sure.

“Where did you learn to do this?” I murmur, uncertain if I really want to know.

“To dance?”

“All of it. To smile and charm people.”

“I wasn’t charming before?”

“Not like this. That was real. This is…something else.” This is the life, the life my father lived, the one he groomed Honor and me to live. The one I thought I had escaped.

He considers this as we take another turn around the ballroom. It’s not quite a waltz but not quite modern either. It’s more that he’s turning my body in time with the music. It’s innate, I realize. A deep and sensual connection to the music that he wouldn’t have learned in lessons.

I half expect him to ignore my question or pretend not to know what I mean. To turn away from the elephant in the room, that neither of us were meant to wear these invisible crowns. Instead he says, “I learned by necessity.”

That tells me nothing. “Someone must have helped you.”

“Ada taught me some of it,” he says finally. “About the parties. The social rules.”

“Then she supported you.” I’m moving dangerously close to the topic we haven’t yet touched—how he was able to take over after my father died. And what happened to him when I left.

He’s silent as we take another turn, the faces around us blurring together.

“She likes you,” he says.

“Did she know you were going to get me?”

“Yes.”

I shouldn’t feel betrayed by that. Ada has always been nice to me, but obviously she felt no loyalty for me if she supported Giovanni kidnapping me. “I see.”

“Clara.”

Tears sting my eyes, and I focus on the crisp white of his shirt. I wish he would go away. No, I want to be the one to go, for the smooth blonde floor to open wide and swallow me whole.

“Clara, look at me.”

He waits patiently while we dance until I gather myself and lift my chin.
Don’t let them see you bleed.
I realize then that she may not have only been talking about other people. Giovanni is coming for me like a bird of prey. I force the tears back.

“You asked why we couldn’t just leave. There are many reasons, but one of them is Honor.”

“What does she have to do with this?”

“I told you they would find you. Your sculpture at the Grand. Your art. It was only a matter of time.”

“You said that already. Except you could have warned me there. I would have run.”

“And your sister? Should she uproot her life? Her husband?”

I press my lips together, obstinate. I’m aware that it would have been awful for her, that whatever he does to me is probably worth sparing her, but I would have liked the choice.

“Her baby?”

I stumble at the word, only saved from tripping by his strong arms. “What?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No, I—” I had been distracted lately, though. Distancing myself so she wouldn’t find out about Shane and worry. “God, how do you know?”

He lifts a shoulder. “My people are thorough. Other people are thorough too. She wouldn’t have been safe there. Those people wouldn’t care that she’s married to someone else, not if they could use her.”

Panic claws at my throat. “Then she won’t be safe there now. You have to let me warn her.”

“You’re here now. We’ve announced our engagement in public. If anyone were to try anything, they’d go after you.”

I shiver at his words. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“I already told you, I won’t let anyone else touch you.”

Except you’ll touch me, even if I say no.
“You don’t know for sure she’ll be safe. I have to warn her.”

He says nothing.

“And she’ll be so worried about me. I need to at least let her know that I’m okay. Please.” I’m begging, which is a bad position to be in. Of course, I’m already completely under his control.

He shakes his head. “There’s more going on than I can tell you. Warning your sister would put everything at risk.”

“Not warning her is already putting her at risk.”

His hold tightens on me. “I’m going to keep you safe, I promise you that. And I’m doing my best to leave her out of this. That has to be enough for you, bella. Don’t ask me for more. Not now.”

“C
lara?”

I look up from where I’m rubbing my feet, flushed with guilt and embarrassment. At least until I see who it is. Juliette looks genuinely excited to see me, her brown eyes warm. I need a friendly face after the coldness of Giovanni’s words and the sordid curiosity of the other guests.

I stand without my shoes and give her a hug. “Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you.”

She squeezes back. “So grown up, little Clara.”

Making a face, I point to the shoes. “Not grown up enough for those. My feet are on fire.”

Her laugh lightens my mood. She was always more Honor’s friend than mine, being two years older than me. But she was always kind. Her father was the consigliere before his death, which gave her and her mother enough status to remain in the family, despite their poverty due to his gambling debts.

“Well, let’s sit down,” she says kindly. “You can tell me where you’ve been, all the things you’ve seen. I still haven’t left Nevada.”

“Oh, we didn’t do much traveling.” And I’m not sure how much I should really share. Talking about where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing just leads to the fact that I didn’t want to leave.

“And what about Honor? Is she okay?” Concern shines in Juliette’s eyes.

“She’s fine,” I assure her. And apparently pregnant. I ache to hug my sister, to ask how she’s doing, to offer her a shoulder rub or whatever it is pregnant women need.

Instead I’m just adding to her stress by disappearing.

And despite what Giovanni said, I’m not content to do nothing and hope she’s okay. Maybe kidnapping me has diverted the attention, but what if it hasn’t? It’s not a risk I can live with. I know that her husband, Kip, will keep her safe—he’s a force to be reckoned with in his own right. He protected her when our father found us once. And he takes security measures more than most men would.

But he doesn’t know about the imminent potential threat to her. He’ll know I’m missing but not who took me. And the ease with which Giovanni found me, stalked me, and kidnapped me from my own bed proves the danger is real.

“Juliette, I need your help.”

Her dark brows lower. “What’s wrong?”

I drop my voice, glancing behind me. The corridor is empty. I left Giovanni’s side under the guise of using the restroom, but I turned left instead of right. There are some benefits to having grown up in this mansion. So I’ve been hiding on a plush bench that sits right outside the conservatory. Luckily it’s also far enough away from the party to make this request.

“I need you to get a message to Honor.”

She looks around, understanding the covert nature of my request. “I’m guessing she’s not coming to the wedding tomorrow?”

I huffed a laugh. “Not hardly. Wait…did you say tomorrow?”

She bites her lip, looking conflicted. “Oh no. I worried it was something like this.”

“The wedding is
tomorrow?
”

Worry floods her brown eyes. “I mean, I knew you wanted to get away from all this, but I remembered you had a thing with Giovanni. I’d hoped that meant this marriage was…”—her voice falls to a whisper—“real.”

“He drugged me while I was sleeping. I woke up in the back of a limo.”

Pain washes over her expression, but not surprise. The family is too messed up to be shocked that something like this happens. “Oh my God, Clara. Do you need to get out?”

“Unless you have a small army I don’t know about, you can’t get me out.” And it would be dangerous for her to try, considering how heavily guarded this place is. Her position in the family is already tenuous without a protector. “But if you can get a message to Honor, at least she’ll know I’m alive.”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Of course I will. Tell me how.”

I open my mouth to rattle off her cell phone number, the first number on the tip of my tongue. Except what if someone is looking for Honor, and Juliette tells them how to find her? They were friends, but a lot can change in eight years. Giovanni is living proof of that.

Even if she wanted to remain loyal, she might not have much choice. I have to tread carefully here.

Instead I give her Candy’s phone number. She’ll relay the message to Honor, but it won’t be trackable. And unlike the sweet bungalow my sister and her husband live in, Candy lives in an upscale fortified townhome with 24-7 security guards already in place. As soon as she gets the call, she’ll tell her husband, Ivan, who will lock the place down tighter than Fort Knox.

“Honor doesn’t have a phone,” I lie. I feel a little guilty about that, about not trusting a friend, but I’ve been burned too badly. This place is toxic. The family changes people. We may not be born evil, but we turn that way if we stay.

Juliette types the number into her phone, then tucks it away. “I’ll do it tonight.”

“Thank you,” I tell her, meaning it. I’m still hoping she’s being honest. And this way Honor will know what happened to me. She’ll still worry, but at least she’ll know to protect herself too.

A slight sound makes me jump.

Giovanni turns the corner, his expression severe.
Shit.
Did he hear me? I scan his eyes, trying to find some hint of what he’s thinking. But he’s like a monolith, dark and forbidding and completely inscrutable. He comes closer. His broad shoulders block the light, and I blink at the contrast.

“Hello, Juliette.” His tone is cordial but the meaning plain. It’s a dismissal.

She gives him a nervous smile, already standing to leave. “Hello. And congratulations.” He nods, but she’s already making her excuses. “I think I should find my mother. But it was great to see you again, Clara.”

Then she’s gone.

Giovanni’s tone doesn’t change as he asks, “What is she doing tonight?”

Shit shit shit.
“Something blue,” I blurt out. “For the wedding. Which is
tomorrow,
by the way. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Something blue?”

“You know, something borrowed, something blue. It’s for good luck.” And this marriage will need all the help it can get. He looks dubious, so I move to distract him. “Take a walk with me?”

He glances into the dark opening of the conservatory. “At night.”

I really don’t need him thinking too hard about what I said to Juliette. “It could be romantic.”

His eyes narrow. “You seem awfully comfortable with the wedding.”

This is the problem with your kidnapper being your first love. He knows me too well. “Of course I’m not comfortable. I’m getting married tomorrow.
Against my will.
Who would be comfortable with that?”
Stop babbling, Clara.
“I’m actually really pissed at you.”

My face flames with embarrassment, fear tinged with affection. I used to get this way around him, talking too much because I had a crush. Now I’m talking too much for an entirely different reason. It feels a little bit the same, though. Enough that I head straight to the center of the conservatory where it’s dark and quiet, hoping he doesn’t follow me. I leave my shoes in a sad pile beside the bench, running barefoot.

He does follow me, of course.

I hear his footsteps behind me and speed up.

There are short walls built into the space with ivy and moss grown around them. The air is thick with moisture and sweetness and earth. I breathe it in deeply, take the earth into my body. Being locked up in a room without access to sunlight, to dirt. I’ve always hated it. Always fought it.

And here I am again, grateful for even the taste of freedom.

A
ll the paths
lead to the middle of the space, where a three-tiered fountain pours water from a pineapple at the top. Except when I reach the middle, it’s gone. As far as I can tell, the walls and the plants are exactly how I left them. But the fountain is missing. In its place is a large plot of bare ground.

The heat of Giovanni’s body is a gentle caress at my back, letting me know I’m caught.