To Have & to Hurt by Morgan Bridges
Violetta
Tristano’s gray eyes are like the ashes left behind once a fire has died.
What I said about his mother killed any warmth, any burning emotions he was allowing me to see. It was the first time he expressed his opinion of my sister, and anyone who speaks about her the way he did can do no wrong in my mind. Tristano revealing his thoughts on Carina helped me see him in a different light. I was also beginning to think he was viewing me in another one too.
But I ruined it.
Now Tristano works his jaw from side to side and a muscle ticks every other second, showcasing his anger. And his gaze, once like a polished silver, is now a dismal gray. I shouldn’t have said anything and I can’t believe, after nearly two years of silence, that I’d just let anything fall out of my mouth.
Especially something so personal for him.
“Tristano…” I reach for him and abruptly halt, my hand still suspended in the air. His icy expression is harsh and unyielding. “I’m sorry. That was…” I let my arm fall to my side and blow out a breath. “You’d think I’d know to avoid painful subjects after what happened to me, but I—”
“What?”
My stomach plummets and I press my lips together, hoping to keep the nausea at bay. My sister’s attacker is the last person I ever want to discuss with anyone, let alone Tristano. Would he judge Carina like our father did, accusing her of wanting what happened? The very idea makes me shudder. If Tristano ever said anything like that about her I’d want to kill him.
And I’d hate myself for letting it slip.
“What. Happened. To. You.”
I stare at Tristano with my mouth slightly ajar. The way he spoke was clipped, biting, and every word was punctuated with a hint of rage that makes me tremble inside. And it wasn’t even a question; he voiced it as a demand.
His glower deepens to a murderous expression and I snap out of the mental paralysis weighing me down. “Nothing happened to me,” I say. “It’s something I witnessed.”
Tristano tilts his head just so and I’m quick to speak, knowing that small movement means he’s close to his breaking point. And I don’t blame him. First he’s burdened with watching out for me because his brother was detained, then his mother reveals her betrayal, and now I’ve thrown that painful truth in his face, as well as acted out during my breakdown.
I’d want to strangle me too.
“Two years ago one of my father’s men, his cousin to be exact,” I say with a grimace, “assaulted…someone I care for and I witnessed it. Just the beginning because I ran to get help before it could continue further.”
Hearing myself speak of this disgusting, traumatic event has the nausea already roiling within my stomach intensifying and my vision becomes blurry. I wrap my arms around my middle and breathe in and out slowly, hoping it’ll all go away. I have to refrain from closing my eyes because I know it’ll only produce unwanted images which will only make things worse.
When that happens, it’s the one time I don’t want to be trapped in my mind.
The feel of Tristano’s hand on my back has me turning my head. I’m not willing to acknowledge him right now, not until I’ve fought my demons and locked them back up in the prison I’ve created for them. Except his soothing strokes along my spine cause me to break, to crack a little and some of my internal battle leaks into the atmosphere.
“I hate myself for not doing something,” I grit out, still fighting the waves of guilt slamming into me. “I should’ve killed him. It would’ve prevented seconds or maybe even minutes of her suffering.” I slap a hand over my mouth, nearly vomiting, and blink away the tears filling my eyes. The dampness floods them and runs over my cheeks, then cascades over my hand that’s futilely trying to hold back my sobs.
Tristano grabs my arms and I extend my other hand in his direction to keep him away. “Leave me alone,” I choke out. “I don’t deserve your comfort, not after what I allowed to happen.”
He overpowers me with little effort on his part, and next thing I know, I’m weeping while pressed against his chest. The image of my sister doing the same to him not too long ago flits through my mind and now I understand why Carina acted that way. There’s something about Tristano that offers feelings of security, and his confidence in himself allows you to lean on him because you know he’s strong enough to handle it.
I cry until I’m nearly dehydrated, but once the tears stop flowing, I stay right where I am. For me, there’s nothing that compares to Tristano’s embrace. And I’m really glad my sister doesn’t see him the way I do, because if she did that would kill me.
I want him for myself.
Allto myself.
That realization startles me, causing me to jump in his arms.
“Violetta?” His concern is deeply threaded in every syllable of my name and those same threads are slowly weaving around my heart, binding it. Half of me is ready to bolt in order to avoid this emotional tether, but the other half wants to be tied to him, to be woven into his life.
And sown onto his heart.
This is dangerous in many ways and he doesn’t allow me to assess the risks because he interrupts my thoughts by taking my face between his hands and lifting it.
“Give me his fucking name.” He says this with an eerie calm that’s not congruent with the rage shining in his gaze.
“Ugo Nardone,” I say on a wheeze, my breath lost in Tristano’s fury.
His grip on me tightens and then he brings his forehead to lightly rest against mine, his eyes still boring into me. “I give you my word that he’ll be dead before you wake tomorrow.”
My entire body goes limp with relief and I sag against Tristano’s body, pressing my cheek against his torso. He has to wrap an arm around my back to keep me upright and I can’t say that I’m sorry for my show of weakness.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “Make him suffer.”
His lips brush the crown of my head and then he murmurs, “To the fullest.”
I close my eyes and let some of the imaginary weight that’s been dragging me down fall away from me. “Thank you. So much.”
“Did he touch you?” He pauses and takes a deep breath, his chest briefly expanding. Ever?”
I shake my head and Tristano’s body relaxes against mine. “Just her and only that one time. But it was enough…”
“Is there anything other than retribution that I can give you?” he asks, his voice strained. He continuously sweeps his thumb over my cheek. I’m not sure he’s even aware of it, but he’s comforting me subconsciously. Or maybe he’s doing it to soothe himself because he’s upset on my behalf? The thought has warmth stirring in my chest.
“What I want is for you to accept my apology,” I say quietly. “I shouldn’t have brought up your situation with your mother. And I know my behavior has been trying lately, but I’ve realized some things that are…” I wave a hand in dismissal. “Never mind.”
He stays silent for so long I start to worry I’ve offended him somehow, disregarding the fact someone like him could care less what I think. However, he eventually nods his head. “Tell me your problems, ribelle, and if I can solve them, I will.”
The warmth already swirling inside me spreads until it wraps around my lips, molding them into a smile. The first one that’s full and not restrained or disingenuous. It’s freeing in a way I didn’t think was possible.
“You can’t help me figure out my identity,” I say. “That’s a journey I have to travel alone.” I sigh and give a little shrug. “I don’t know who I am outside of ‘Carina’s younger sister’ and now that I’m eighteen and my own adult, it’s time for me to do that. But thank you. This entire ordeal has been…enlightening.”
He dips his head in agreement. “Very much so.” After that he drops his hands and folds his arms over his chest. “You need to sleep and I trust I can leave you to your own devices, knowing you won’t do anything rash during the night?”
“I won’t.” The unspoken words at the back of my throat nearly clog my airways when I repress them. I’m very close to asking Tristano to stay with me and keep my nightmares at bay, but I’m sure he’d view that as me being emotionally clingy.
“I’ll be just outside if you need anything. Sleep well, Violetta.”
“Goodnight.”
He closes the door behind him and instead of feeling relief I’m lonely. Tristano forcing me to say the things festering in my soul helped me so much. I always thought if I talked about that awful event then it’d have a bigger presence in my life, as though I’d be feeding it every time I mentioned it. But the opposite is true. As painful as it was to put words to the ugliness of it all, I actually feel like some of it has been released into the atmosphere where it’ll diffuse until completely gone. The wound is still there, but without the poison inside it can finally begin to heal.
I pick up the nightie from the floor and go through as much of a nighttime routine as I can manage, given the toiletries available in the guest bathroom. I’m too tired to shower, deciding to do that first thing in the morning, and quickly slip out of my clothes and into the silky purple material. Then I climb onto the massive bed and slide in between the cool sheets. They help relax me, as does the fluffy pillow.
And then I proceed to lie there, unable to sleep.
I’m not sure how many hours pass, but when the bedroom door opens I’m more wide awake than before. My gaze instantly lands on the shadowed figure entering the room and my already racing heart goes into double time at the knowledge it’s Tristano. I would recognize his silhouette in any setting.
My curiosity is piqued when he doesn’t approach me. Instead, he walks over to the window at the far end of the room and pushes aside the curtain to stare outside for a long while. Just as I’m about to call out to him, the sound of his phone vibrating has me clamping my lips.
Tristano answers and I briefly wonder if it’s considered eavesdropping if I didn’t intentionally place myself nearby to overhear his conversation.
“It’s late,” he says, “Is something wrong?”
He waits a second and then pinches the bridge of his nose. “I could do without the details concerning your sex life with my future sister-in-law, Rafael. For future reference, keep that shit to yourself.”
Of course I can’t hear what’s being said on the other line, but Tristano nods to himself here and there. “That’s a problem for a different day,” he says. “I have a more pressing one I want you to handle immediately.”
A pause and then, “Ugo Nardone, has your fiancée mentioned him?”
My entire body goes as stiff as a corpse. Hearing Tristano mention that evil son of a bitch stirs up the waves of nausea from earlier, but I remind myself that he said he’d take care of it, which is what I think is happening right now. Knowing Ugo will die soon helps smooth some of the tension from me.
But I won’t be completely at peace until he’s at the bottom of the ocean, preferably being eaten by sea creatures.
All the way from across the room I’m able to clearly hear Rafael’s curses as he shouts on the phone. Tristano pulls the device away from his ear until the yelling dies down.
“I’m assuming she has mentioned him then,” Tristano says. “What was the outcome? Really?” The tension in his shoulders loosens and they drop a little, and his rigid stance becomes more casual. “I am very glad to hear it. I must say, Rafael, I have never been more proud.”
Tristano scoffs after a moment. “I meant that, but if you can’t take a compliment, then that’s your fucking problem. And yes, she told me.”
His gaze flickers over to me and I hold my breath to keep from moving. I’m pretty sure he can’t tell my eyes are only open just enough for me to peek at him through my lashes, but then again, not much gets past Tristano. It’s unlikely he’ll be upset if he discovers me spying on him, however, I don’t want him to censor his words just because I’m listening.
“I think it was your right,” he says, “yet I’m disappointed I wasn’t there.”
Rafael’s laughter reaches my ears at the same time that Tristano smiles. “Yes, the beast is still in its cage.”
He places his forearm on the window pane and then rests his forehead against his arm. “She wants something, but I don’t know what and it’s frustrating, Rafael. I need to know what happened all those years ago, and at the same time I can’t stop thinking about our father, which pisses me off to the point I could choke the life from her.”
After blowing out a sharp breath he says, “I won’t. Calm the fuck down. I haven’t gotten us to this point just to screw it up now. Tell Maximus that I’ll call you both tomorrow when I know what her end game is.”
He hangs up the phone and tosses it onto the nearby couch. I have the strongest urge to go to him, but I’m too scared. Not that I think he’ll reject me, but because I’m drawn to him like a magnet. And once I’m with him fully I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to separate from him.
I silently lecture myself and point out I’m a newly eighteen year old woman, as of a couple hours ago, and I have my whole life ahead of me. However, when I think of what that means or what it looks like, all I can see is a void of darkness waiting for me. I have no trajectory, nothing to push me in a certain direction, and no dreams to bring me happiness. Who I am and what I want are still two major questions I need to answer.
No, that’s not true; I want Tristano.
But I don’t want to get hurt.
Tristano eventually lifts his head and turns toward the bed, making it difficult for me to breathe. The air in my lungs halts completely when he walks over and looms just above me. I shut my eyes because I don’t think I can fool him otherwise and I force myself to inhale and exhale at a reasonable consistency, although it’s a struggle.
Just because I can’t see him, doesn’t mean I can’t feel him.
His energy, his commanding presence can be felt across the room. With a single look, this man can bring me to my knees or compel me to speak. Using my voice as much as I did earlier was strange. If such a thing is possible, I didn’t recognize it. Somehow I’d forgotten what I sounded like, the cadence of my voice, and the pitch as well. Talking to Tristano was almost natural at the end, despite my resistance in the beginning.
Even now I want to tell him something, anything that’ll take away the haunted look in his gaze whenever he mentions his mother.
Pure and unadulterated shock zooms through me when he climbs onto the bed, and that’s the only reason I remain still. Tristano surprises me further by running his fingers through the loose tendrils of my hair draped across the pillow. His proximity allows me to inhale the smell of him, a spicy, clean scent that’s pleasing to my senses. I inhale lungfuls of it greedily, just like I soak up the feel of his fingers in my hair.
I’ve never had a man touch me as though I was precious and valuable to him. It creates a hunger for something I didn’t know I wanted, but now that I do… How will I ever go back to that state of ignorance?
Do I even want to?
“I’m furious with you, ribelle,” Tristano says softly. If it weren’t for the tenderness in his voice I’d be tempted to pull away and confront him. “You came into my life and showed me things about myself that I didn’t know and don’t want to. Because now I can’t go back to the way everything was before.”
He traces the arch of my brows and then trails his index finger down my nose, his touch no lighter than a feather. It takes every ounce of determination within me to stay motionless when he outlines my mouth and the seam of my lips.
“I’ve never had someone to care for,” he says, “not in the way a man looks after a woman. Yes, I watched over my brothers since the day I could walk, but with you it’s not the same thing at all. What I’ve done for you, what I would do for you…it’s different.”
His exhale breezes over the contours of my face and then Tristano presses his lips to my forehead briefly. “If you dream of me, I’ll consider myself fortunate. But if you have a nightmare, I’ll be here to rid you of it. Come what may, I’m not leaving you. Sleep well, ribelle.”