Life Before Damaged, Vol. 9: The Ferro Family (6 page)

I
wake
up in the Ferro Mansion to Pete tucking me into my bed. I must have fallen asleep in the car on the ride here. He presses his lips on my forehead, whispering a barely audible, “I love you."

He backs away, heading toward the bedroom door. His words have my skin sizzling, wishing for more. I never dreamed I’d hear him say those words to anyone, least of all to me, but they must be true because he thinks I’m sleeping. There’s no reason to lie.

I sit up in bed and call to him. “Wait, Peter?” My voice is thick with sleep and smoke. I feel like I spent the night outside in Erin's neighborhood on garbage day. I’m filthy, I wreak, and I have unidentified crap in my hair. My right eye is throbbing and my tattoo is stinging, but I’m back home safe. Home. For once, the Ferro Mansion feels like a home because Peter is here with me.

He stops in the doorframe and turns around. I can’t see his face, it’s too dark in the room and the light coming from behind him makes it harder to see his features.

“Stay with me tonight? Please?” I don’t want to be alone. I’m tired of being alone. I want to feel safe with him lying next to me.

I can't see him clearly, but I do see his head shake. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I’ll see you in the morning.” He sounds so tired, physically and emotionally. Apprehension sets in when he mentions morning, like a pin’s been pulled from a grenade and at any minute my life could explode.

“Wait!” My voice is loud and slightly panicked. I crawl toward the foot of the bed and Peter meets me half way, sitting on the mattress.

He puts a hand under my chin and his eyes search my face, concerned. "What's wrong?"

“Will I? See you in the morning, that is? I mean are you going to go to the police?” My fingers twist the comforter, mimicking how my insides feel. I don’t want him to do it.

Peter’s face relaxes. He brushes a thumb across my right eyebrow, and I cringe at his touch. He notices my discomfort and places a small kiss on my eyebrow. When he pulls back, he says, “It goes against my better judgment, but no, I’m not turning myself in—at least not tomorrow. After what almost happened tonight, there is no way I’m ever letting you go again. I don’t think I could survive losing you, Gina. I need you.”

I climb onto his lap, and take his face in my hands. “I’m here, and I’m safe now. You’re not going to lose me.” We both lean into a tender kiss. It’s not frantic or passionate like outside the barn. This time, it’s slow and soft.

His lips sweep over mine like a feather, barely touching me. The kiss is brief. Pete stands up, lifting me with him, my legs around his hips. Pete puts me down gently on the bed and tucks me back in safely under my blankets. He sits next to me with a worried expression on his face.

“Gina, I need to ask you something, and I know this may be hard to answer, but this is important.”

Pete exhales and stands up to pace around the room for a few steps. He sits back down, making the bed dip and he rests his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

“Peter?” He’s starting to scare me. If what he has to ask me has him fidgeting so much, it can’t be good.

He lifts his head and closes his eyes as he says, “Did those guys touch you? I mean, I see they weren’t very gentle, but did they...” Pete’s voice trembles and his hands ball up into fists.

I sit up in bed again and place a hand on his shoulder.

He wants to know if they raped me, but just can’t bring himself to say the words. “No. At least, I don’t think they did. After they called me a corpse, I wimped out and fainted. I was out of it for the most part, but before I blacked out, their boss, or whoever he was, had specifically said not to touch me. Something about not having their DNA on me.”

“Gina, if you don’t mind, I’ll have a doctor look you over first thing tomorrow morning, just to be on the safe side. I don’t trust them to have kept their word and it’s taking every ounce of restraint I have not to go find them and...”

Pete’s anger is getting the better of him again, it’s rolling off of him in waves, so I do the only thing I know how to do to calm him down. I stroke his cheek with my hand. The effect is instantaneous. His shoulders slump and his fists relax. “Hey. It’s okay. I don’t think they did anything to me other than slap me around and try to kill me a little bit,” I grin at him. “But I’ll see the doctor tomorrow.

“Get some rest, Gina. I’ll see you in the morning.” The mattress shifts as Peter gets off of the bed. Before leaving the room, he says, “I love you, Granz.”

“You’re getting pretty good at saying it, Ferro. You sure you've never done this before?” I tease.

That crooked grin lights up his face. “Smartass.”

“I love you too, asshat.”

The last thing I hear before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep is Pete chuckling down the hallway.

I
step
out of my bathroom and into my living room suite, dressed in a fluffy white Ferro robe. As I pad back toward my bedroom, I hear a knock on my door, followed by the sound of footsteps walking away. I open the door and glance down the hallway, but no one is there.

I turn toward Pete’s rooms, just across the hall from mine. The door is closed.

Two silver trays are on a serving cart next to my door. I roll it into my suite of rooms and can’t help but smile. On one of the trays, there’s an impressive selection of breakfast foods. Thick slices of freshly baked bread with fresh butter, a variety of jams and marmalades, crispy slices of bacon, a cup filled with steaming hot coffee with cream and sugar on the side, and a tall glass of fresh orange juice. What makes me smile the most is the single macadamia nut cookie in the center of the platter, right next to a beautiful red rose. There’s also a smaller, silver tray with two little white pills, painkillers from the looks of them, ointment for my shoulder, and a cool compress for my eye. He’s thought of everything.

As I'm taking my first bite, I notice a note tucked under the plate. The silky smooth vellum paper is cream colored, with the Ferro crest stamped in gold at the top. The scent that drifts under my nose when I pick up the note doesn’t go unnoticed, and I laugh, imagining Pete spritzing some of his expensive Venetian Peter Ferromone Cologne on a love letter.

I put my cookie down on the plate - because I totally started with the cookie – grab the rose and read the letter, written with perfect penmanship.

I can’t recall ever really swooning over anyone in my life, other than in front of boy band posters and the occasional movie star when I was younger. But this? Holy! Lovey-dovey Pete makes me swoon over toast! I hug the letter to my chest--enjoying the scent of it--and flop down onto my bed.

I reread the note over and over again as I eat breakfast.

A
fter the doctor leaves
, I scramble to get ready to see Pete in his study. Clothes are flying left and right in my room, trying to find the perfect outfit. I settle on a cute black swing dress with a dark red floral pattern. It laces up the front, like a corset, with black satin ribbon and has black lace trim around the edge of the swishy circular skirt.

My stomach is in knots as I stand in front of the door to his study. I’m going to count to ten and then walk in. Okay, I take a deep breath and exhale loudly.

“You know, it helps if you use your hand to turn the knob. As far as I know, telekinesis doesn’t work.” He’s standing right behind me. Turn around Gina, turn around Gina, turn arou-

“eeep!”

Peter swings me around in a spin, dips me, and simply says, “Hey.” For a poet, he’s a man of few words this morning. He smiles, and all traces of my nerves dissolve.

“Hey.”

He straightens us up and opens the door to the study, letting me go in first. I pad over to the couch and take a seat. Pete sits next to me and takes one of my hands in his.

“So, how did it go with the doctor?” He holds me tightly tracing my fingers one at a time.

“She says there aren’t any signs of, um, forced entry, so to speak.” My face flames up. I can feel the heat rising from my chest up to the top of my head. This is a conversation I never thought I’d have, but I’m relieved all the same. I didn’t think they were down there, but having someone confirm it makes me feel better.

Pete squeezes my hand and looks into my eyes, prompting me to continue.

“Yeah, so, it looks like everything might be okay after all. I need to have more tests done in a couple of weeks to be officially all in the clear. Until then, she suggests I take all the necessary precautions, just in case. Speaking of which,”

I remove my hand from Pete’s and start to play with the fabric of my skirt. This is going to be hard, but I have to do it.

“Gina? This is me, you can tell me anything.” Pete lifts my chin up with a finger.

I stand up and walk over to his desk and pick up the book I saw yesterday. I hand it to him, open to that poem. He takes the book from me and looks at it with curiosity in his eyes.

"Is it story telling time? I don't-"

I sit down next to him and cut him off. “It’s about the women, Peter. I’m not okay with them. I know you’ve had a messed up life with screwed up parents. I know women come and go in this place, but I can’t do it. I can’t be someone’s second best anymore. I’m sorry. If I can't be the only one, I can't be anything at all.” My lip trembles as I suck in a breath. We've only just begun, and I'm already giving ultimatums.

Pete sets the book down next to him and takes hold of my hands. He hunches down so that his face is right in front of mine. “Gina, I don't expect you to believe me, but I hope you will. There hasn’t been anyone except you for a really long time.”

“Twenty-four hours isn’t a long time for most people, Peter.” I say, not looking up.

He lets go of one of my hands and his thumb strokes my cheekbone. “Silly girl. I haven’t been with anyone else since the first night I brought you to my room from the club. After that night, other women are completely unappealing.”

I rip my hand out from his grip and stand up, taking a few steps away from the couch. Shaking my head, I put a hand in front of me in a stop motion, in case he has any ideas of coming close and short-circuiting my brain with his touches and kisses.

“Please don’t patronize me, Peter. I may be naïve and over-trusting sometimes, but I’m not stupid. There have been plenty of women since that night. I’d rather you be honest with me than have you lie to my face. All those pictures I saw in the news, the stripper across the street from Erin’s, those women you left with at the merger gala and that pretty girl wearing a sheet in the ballroom—” My voice cracks at mid-sentence, as my insides twist when I remember that specific girl. She wasn't random.

Pete runs a hand through his hair and leans back into the couch, letting his head fall back on the backrest. “What pretty girl in the ballroom?”

“Really? You don’t even remember your last screw from twenty-four hours ago? I’m talking about the girl who interrupted us when we were dancing in the ballroom yesterday. You know, Miss Bedsheets? You don't bring women home unless--unless they mean something to you.” Like I meant something to him that night.

“If you hadn't stormed off yesterday, I could've explained. That damned temper of yours is going to be a problem if you run away from me whenever we have a misunderstanding. That girl was Jon’s date, not mine.”

“Then why was she looking for you, all naked and smelling like sex while half-dressed with a condom in your back pocket?”

“What? She wasn’t looking for me, she was looking for Jon. She probably assumed I was Jon because my back was turned to her. You know my brothers and I look alike."

"And the condom?"

"I can't believe I'm being condemned for being responsible. Gina, I’ve been putting one of those in my back pocket since the day I discovered sex. It’s become a habit, a good habit. Before I leave my rooms, I grab my wallet, my phone, and a condom. Habits are hard to break, half the time I don’t even realize I do it. I had no intention of using it.”

“You didn’t?”

He shakes his head. "No. And the other women were just for show. At first, I was trying to get my mother to see that her plan wasn’t working so she could let you off the hook. Nothing happened with any of them, and it's not from lack of trying. I tried, believe me, I tried. I’m not a saint. I was trying so hard to purge you from my mind. I thought maybe, by touching someone else, my hands would forget how soft your skin is, and if I let myself kiss someone else, my mouth would forget the taste and feel of your lips. Whenever the time came, I just couldn’t do it. Everything felt wrong, lifeless. I couldn't have sex with any of them.”

My throat is so tight that I can’t swallow. My face twitches, lost between a smile and a sob. “You couldn’t?” He shakes his head. “Why not?”

Peter lowers his lashes and takes a deep breath. When his gaze meets mine, those azure eyes bore into me. “Because they weren’t you.”

“And the stripper? The girl across from Erin’s place? That was just for kicks? That hurt me, a lot.” I want to cry and laugh. My body is spazzing between emotions as fear drips down my spine.

“I was purposefully trying to hurt you. I wanted you to hate me so much you’d run far away from me and straight into Gambino's arms.”

“What? How could you say that? I mean—”

He cuts me off. “I love you, Gina. I have for a while, but it’s killing me. I want you for myself more than I want my next breath, but I also want what’s best for you, which is someone better than me. During the merger gala, I saw how good Gambino was for you, how perfect you were for each other, but then I found out about his father. I stumbled across some papers in my mother's office while looking for your criminal file. That's when I discovered the Congressman's involvement with some sketchy people. Why my mother has such information on file is beyond me, but it was there. When Erin called, she confirmed my suspicion that his son was just as corrupt.”

Peter sucks in air and runs his fingers through his hair. His head tips to the side and he tries to explain things to me. "I’m not a good man, Gina. The only decent thing I've done was saving you that night at the rave. Even then, you wouldn't have needed saving if it hadn't been for me. You can’t marry me, because I don’t want your life to be tainted by all the crap I’ve done—and if you stay with me, that’s exactly what will happen. You deserve someone better who’ll take care of you better than I ever could.” It’s as if there’s more he wants to say, but the words stop.

After a moment, I gently prod. “But…?”

He glances up at me from under those dark lashes. “But, at the same time, I can’t live without you. I need you Gina. You’re air, you’re light, you’re life. I can’t walk away, but I can’t stay. I’m completely and totally fucked.”

I walk back to the couch and sit on Pete's lap, straddling his legs. I take his face in my hands and kiss him. Pete kisses me back, but then pulls away and turns his head to the side, like he doesn’t deserve my kiss. He just doesn’t see how amazing he is.

“Peter, I want you to listen very carefully. In the past year, there have been three men in my life. Anthony was a hard working scholar on his way to becoming a dedicated doctor. My parents adored him. He ended up cheating on me and pretended to love me to get some fast money. Philip was perfect--a gentleman, well educated, the rich son of a well-known and loved Congressman. But then he tried to rape and kill me. And then there’s you—”

He’s shaking, and his eyes are looking anywhere but at mine. “Don’t. Gina.” It’s like he’s gasping for air, drowning in fear. I can’t let him stay there.

“Peter Ferro, the notorious womanizer, violent fighter, and loyal friend who has helped and protected me from the moment we met. On the outside, those two other men were picture perfect, but both ended up hurting me deeply. If what you just told me is true, then you, Peter Ferro, are perfect where it counts the most, right here.” I lean in and place a kiss on his chest, over his shirt. Peter holds me there, close to his heart, inhaling sharply. I press my cheek to his chest and feel the comforting beat of his heart.