Chapter 33
CHIARA
“Give me your phone,” I demand, my tone clipped with reserved anger while we still stand inside the warehouse after my tears stopped.
I can’t believe I let myself cry on him. How could I have been so weak in front of him?
After I killed my father, the shock held me in its ugly grip, refusing to let me go until I sacrificed my tears. But I didn’t cry because I missed him or regretted what I’d done. It was cathartic.
After all these years of being his prisoner, I was free. And though I still hold his blood in my body, it doesn’t own me or define me. I don’t have to be his daughter beyond the ties of familial lines. I will no longer be controlled. Manipulated. Abused.
“Are you okay, baby?” Dom asks, concern plastered on his face like he gives a shit.
My jaw tightens and my eyes turn to two daggers about to take him out as beautifully as I did my own father.
“You don’t fucking have the right to call me that ever again, you fucking bastard.”
“Please, let me explain,” he begs, but I don’t want to hear any of it.
I extend my palm. “Give me your damn cell. I have to call my aunt, who’s probably called the cops by now.”
He slips a hand in his black sweats and removes his phone, handing it to me.
I immediately call her.
“Hello?” her voice trembles.
“It’s me. I’m so sor—”
“Oh my God, Chiara,” she sobs. “I thought you were dead. When you didn’t show up, I was certain he hurt you.”
Of course she means my father.
“He will never hurt anyone again. I made sure of it.”
“What?” Shock weaves around her question.
“It’s a lot to explain, but I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay. Please hurry.”
“I will. Bye. Love you.”
“Me too. So much. See you soon.”
I disconnect the call and hold the phone out for Dom, refusing to even look at him, and as he takes the cell, his fingers caress my palm.
Yanking away my hand, I steel my gaze, not allowing any of his kindness to seep through the tough wall I built around my heart as soon as I found out who he was.
“Chiara, we have to talk.”
“No, we don’t. I’m leaving. Drive me into town, and I’ll get an Uber from there.”
But as I start to give him my back, his hand lands on my wrist, his fingers curling around me in a tight embrace. He pulls me toward him and I land against the hardness of his chest, my lips hovering over his, his sharp, penetrating gaze holding me in place.
His brothers and the rest of the men must notice the intense moment, because they scatter away.
“I know you’re pissed.” His breath flirts over my lips, irritation slinking in his voice. “But you will not be going anywhere by yourself.”
His other hand captures my chin, and my body instantly grows warm.
“Who the hell do you think you are telling me what to do?” I grate through a tight jaw, my nostrils flaring, my pulse slamming in my neck.
“You’re goddamn irritating, you know that? And even still…” he grunts, his gaze dancing to my lips, his tongue caressing his lower one. “It makes me want you more.”
The whip of warmth courses through my every cell, melting the icy chill of my heart. But as I remember everything that transpired between us, I shake my head, willing it away.
“I’m leaving.” I push out of his grip with all my might, and for a second, I think he’s going to let me go.
“Like hell you are.”
The next thing I know, I’m in the air, flipped over his shoulder, his forearm wrapped tightly around my ass.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! I need to go to my aunt’s, you asshole!”
“And you’ll go,” he throws out casually. “In my car. While I drive.”
“I’m not sitting in the car with you for a minute, let alone over an hour!”
“I guess you have no choice, baby.” His hand squeezes the inside of my thigh, and I can’t control the rush of desire pouncing over me. “I’d never let you go alone, knowing your father’s men are out there. Once they hear about this, they’ll come for you. Are you trying to die?”
“Would you even care?” I retort.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
He flips me back to my feet as we make it to a black SUV. He stares down into my eyes, a painful look marring the green pools of his gaze, stopping me dead in my tracks, and all I want to do is kiss him—not as Brian, but as Dom.
My Dom.
“How could you think I wouldn’t care?” He takes a step forward, forcing me back against the door of his car. “I loved you.”
“Loved,” I add with melancholy stringing up the word, choking the life out of it.
Peering down, I avoid looking at him anymore. It’s too much. I’m barely holding on.
He pushes up my face with a finger, and I have no choice but to meet his probing gaze.
“Love, Chiara. I love you. I always will. Through the years, my love changed. It was different then. I was a boy, and you were my friend. I had feelings for you that I didn’t quite understand. But I do now. You have to know I do.”
“You don’t do what you did to someone you claim to love,” I remark, swallowing away the tears I prefer to hide.
He sighs. “I’m sorry. I only took you for your own safety. I know I should’ve told you who I was, talked to you about it all, but I couldn’t risk the plan I spent years constructing. I waited too long to watch it all fall apart.”
“If you would’ve told me who you were that day at the club, I would’ve been there to help you, but you chose not to trust me.”
“I had my reasons, Chiara. Or did you forget what you said to me?”
My head jerks back. “What the hell are you talking about? When?”
A sharp exhale rolls out of him. “Let’s get out of here before his men come. We’ll talk then and get it all out in the open.”
“Looking forward to it,” I fire as he backs away, opening the door for me.
And once we’re both inside, I welcome the silence I’ve been missing.
We pull up to my aunt’s colonial, a large white wraparound fence surrounding it. She’s already out front, sitting on her porch steps, hands clasped around a mug, a burgundy sweater clinging to her shoulders.
As soon as she sees the car and me getting out of it, she drops the cup so harshly on the step, it tips over, spilling black liquid down onto the grass.
She practically runs to me, and when I’m beside her, she clutches my cheeks in her palms, tears running down her face. Without saying another word, she holds me tight.
“You don’t know how happy I am to see you.” Her voice shatters with a gasping sob. “I was going insane with worry, thinking he killed you like…”
“Like Mom?” I pull back, searching her eyes. “What do you know, Aunt Kirsten? Please, if you know anything at all, you have to tell me.”
We never talked about what happened to my mom. I brought it up when we first started talking, but she found ways to avoid the question, only telling me Mom would never leave without me. As I got older, I stopped asking.
Her eyes close briefly as she pulls in a rough breath. “How about we go inside and talk?”
Her eyes wander to Dom, her brows pinching in question. I turn, seeing him standing against the passenger side, his arms crossed over his massive chest.
“Who is he? Your bodyguard?”
I scoff. “That’s Dom.”
“Wait a minute?” Her eyes widen and her mouth goes slack. “Francesco’s son?”
I nod slowly, my heart growing heavy, a fluttery feeling hitting my stomach as my skin tingles from the cold shiver sliding down my arms.
I’ve mentioned Dom’s name before, but never his father’s.
“Oh my God!”
Her palm falls over her lips.
“I thought they were all dead,” she whispers, her hand falling back down.
As though knowing we’re talking about him, Dom strides over to us.
He reaches out a hand for my aunt’s. “Hi. I’m—”
“I know who you are.” She takes his hand, staring at him as though seeing a ghost. “I knew of your father. He was good to my sister. Her mom.”
She gestures toward me with a flick of her head. My brows furrow. All this time, my aunt knew so much and never said a thing.
“Let’s head in,” she says, opening the door into a large foyer with a cathedral ceiling and a small crystal chandelier overhead.
We remove our shoes, following her into the den.
“Have a seat. Let me make you both some coffee.”
“I don’t want coffee,” I say, frustration lacing in my voice. “I want to know what you know.”
She purses her lips, glancing between Dom and me.
“All right.” She takes a seat on the brown leather sofa.
Dom and I sit across, and he knows better than to sit beside me, taking the opposite end of the couch. My aunt crosses her legs at her knees, gripping her cardigan with a jittery hand.
“Was Mom having an affair with Francesco?” I ask, ending the silence, knowing she’s probably too afraid to say what she knows without knowing what I know first.
Her eyelids fall to a close for the briefest of seconds before they soften, a wrinkle appearing between her brows. “Chiara...”
“I don’t give a shit about the damn affair. Okay? Just tell me what happened.”
She sighs, her fingers laced together. “Your mom was planning on taking you and running away. Francesco found her a man who could create fake passports and gave her money to help her wherever she’d be going.
He didn’t know where, and neither did I.
” She slouches a little, peering down at her lap.
“He didn’t want to know in case you father tortured him.
They started out as friends.” She glances up at me.
“But the closer their friendship got, the closer they got. And she fell in love with him, and he fell in love with her.”
Her gaze drifts to Dom, who’s listening intently.
“He was a good man,” she tells him. “He was willing to give her up just so she could be saved.”
From the corner of my eye, Dom’s jaw rattles.
“She called me in the morning, the day she disappeared,” Aunt Kirsten continues. “She left a voicemail, saying she thought your father knew about her plan to disappear. She sounded afraid, and when I found out she was gone, I just knew he killed her.”
“He did,” Dom grates with a tremor in his breath. “He killed her, my father, and my baby brother, who was only eight.”