I was giving away one of my deepest secrets, making myself vulnerable to him. But somehow, he’d already figured out that my careful composure was a lie. Maybe it was because I’d let him glimpse my defiance far too many times since he’d kidnapped me and taken my virginity. He’d seen beneath the mask, and I couldn’t put it back on.

He curled two fingers beneath my chin, tilting my face back so that he could stare deep into my eyes, my soul. “I will never task another man with punishing you,” he vowed. “I will never brutalize you.”

I bit my lip, thinking of how he’d spanked me. That hadn’t been brutal or inflicted lasting damage, but it had effectively chastised me. My cheeks warmed at the embarrassing memory.

He traced his thumb over my mouth, encouraging me to relax. “I’m not like your father, and I’m not like mine.” His voice deepened, his eyes darkening. “My father beat my mother so badly that she was hospitalized. She became addicted to opiates after that. Two years later, she died of an overdose.”

My heart squeezed at his confession. I’d known that his mother was dead, just like my own, but I hadn’t known how she’d died. Luca’s admission was shockingly intimate. He’d made me vulnerable, but he was sharing something that made him vulnerable in return.

He cupped my cheeks in both of his big hands, cradling my face like I was precious and fragile. “I will never hurt you like that, Nora. I will not be that kind of husband.”

I swallowed against the lump that’d formed in my throat. I was so tempted to believe him. I wanted to believe him.

But I’d spent my entire life fearing men and their violent tendencies. Less than an hour ago, my own cousin had slapped me and tried to violate me.

Luca pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. “You’ll believe me one day,” he murmured. “I’ll prove it to you.”

I pressed my lips together, fearful that I’d spill more of my secrets if I dared to reply.

Luca seemed to understand that I wouldn’t say anything more, so he stepped away and picked up the hairbrush again. Shock loosened my tight chest when he gently ran it through my hair, careful not to pull at the worst of the tangles where Alberto had mussed it. I allowed him to continue in silence, my mind too muddled to come up with conversation. The act was strange but soothing. The bristles massaged my scalp, and after a few calming, quiet minutes, my hair was glossy and free of snarls.