Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Even so, what he tried to do to me is reprehensible. So why do I want to forgive him? I’ve been a fool for him from the start, from the moment he walked into that cathedral and dealt death with a red rose in his lapel. When I should’ve been running, I stayed. When I should’ve fought him, I gave in. And when I shouldn’t have wanted him, I desired him above everything else.
I feel torn apart from the inside. And then his words come back to me: “I love you.” He hadn’t said it to earn my forgiveness. He didn’t have to say it at all, but he did. And though I keep trying to find some note of falseness in him, there is none.
Mateo Milani loves me. Fiercely. Fully. In a way I hadn’t known was possible. And the more I hear him echoing in my mind, in my heart, I know I love him too. Not from the start, no. But he’s shown me every step of the way that he values me, he sees me, and he wants to have a life with me. There’s so much more we need to discuss, but his words aren’t lies, and neither are the ones in my heart. I love him.
He finally comes out of the meeting with Vincenzo, his gaze immediately searching for me. I let him pull me to my feet and kiss me.
“Already missing me?” I ask.
“Yes.” He kisses me again.
“It’s time.” Benny points to the stairs where a steady stream of people are moving to the second floor.
“Come.” Mateo takes my hand.
“I’d rather stay here and wait for you. Seeing my parents right now …” I shake my head. “I don’t think I can do it.”
Mateo pulls me in for a hug, his comforting scent surrounding me. “I’d protect you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course. But these are more emotional wounds. I don’t think Carmen’s going to knife me.”
He sighs.
“Let’s go.” Vincenzo buttons his suit coat.
“You’ll stay here?” Mateo puts me at arm’s length and peers into my eyes. “Right here?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll watch out for her.” Benny’s still leaning against the wall, a cigarette behind his ear.
Mateo thinks about it for a few more moments, then nods. “All right, but don’t try to run, princess. I’d chase you, I’d catch you, and then what I’d do to you—you’d enjoy it.”
A pleasant shiver rolls down my spine as he kisses me once more, then gives Benny a nod. “You know what to do.”
“I got this, boss. Run along to your bigtime meeting. Red’s up there probably about to piss his pants.”
Mateo kisses my forehead, then backs away, his light eyes holding mine until he has to turn and climb the stairs. He and Vincenzo fall into quiet conversation as they ascend and then disappear down the hall.
I take my seat again and wonder how long the meeting will last. My thoughts are with Mateo, with how important tonight is. Even with the pressure, he’s been focused on me. Somehow, he gives me confidence in a way I’ve never experienced before. My mother taught me to be snobby so I could look down on others but never forget my true place. Mateo doesn’t pigeonhole me like that. He sees so much more in me, and he puts me first. It makes me feel … powerful. I smile at the thought, at the way he’s become so much more to me than I ever imagined.
“Why are you dressed like a street walker? This is a wake, for goodness sake.” My mother sits beside me, her withering gaze sliding down my dress.
Shocked from my thoughts, I can only blink at her.
Benny shifts nervously from one foot to the other, but he doesn’t interfere. After all, I’m not in danger from anything except my mother’s sharp tongue.
“Nice to see you, too, Mother.” I stand.
“Wait.” She reaches out and takes my hand, the first kind touch I’ve had from her in years. “Please?”
I stare at where she’s touching me.
“Sorry.” She pulls back and folds her hands in her lap.
Most of the people in the room have filtered out, likely getting ready for the meeting.
I sit back down slowly. “Shouldn’t you be upstairs waiting for Dad?”
“In a minute. I saw you here and wanted to talk.” She peers into my eyes. “Has he hurt you?”
“Would you care?” The retort comes from me unbidden.
She has the nerve to look stung. “Of course I would care. You’re my daughter.”
“No, he hasn’t hurt me.”
“I’m sure he threatened you into saying all is well over in his ghastly house, but you can be honest with me, dear.”
“Is that why you came? To get gossip to share with your friends?”
“No.” She pats my hand. “No. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right, to make sure you know what sort of man you’re married to.”