19. Cian
Cian
I nsanity. That’s the only rational explanation for what I just did. I worked hard for that peace treaty between us and the Italians, only to blow it all with a single bullet to Lorenzo’s head. I fucked up, and the craziest thing about it is that I don’t even care.
I won’t uphold the treaty at the expense of my wife’s wellbeing. Which makes me certifiably insane. I didn’t even want this woman, or a wife, but now that I have her I’m never letting her go.
Not again. Not ever.
I glance over at her as I drive us home. She stares out the window, her eyes unfocused, and I wonder what drug they gave her. How long will it be in her system? The thought of her drugged and bound has me grinding my teeth, my knuckles white against the steering wheel.
She’s obviously in shock, too. What will happen when she’s clear-headed again? Will she see me for the reckless villain I am?
I murdered her brother, and now her father, too. She was not only forced into an arranged marriage with me, but I also bought her at a fucking auction.
I own her twice over.
And I have every intention of keeping her for myself whether she wants to be with me or not.
It’s my fault she was put up for sale. That never would have happened if I hadn’t ditched her at her family home. An abusive household.
I’m not her hero. I’m certainly not her savior.
Lorenzo always rubbed me the wrong way, but I could never pinpoint why exactly. Now I know how he treated his daughters, probably his wife too. He was just as twisted as his son. Though better at hiding it.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, though I don’t expect her forgiveness.
“I overreacted that night in the car. Sometimes I see… sinister intentions where there aren’t any.
You selflessly took your sister’s place, and married a stranger, for the greater good.
And I punished you for it.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry.”
Her gaze slides to me. “I wanted to tell you the truth. I really did, but?—”
“I know. I made it near impossible, but you tried anyway. You’re a brave woman, Ravenna.”
Her gaze brightens when I call her by her real name—instead of her sister’s. Ravenna . I like her name. It suits her much better than Elena.
When we arrive home, I take Ravenna in my arms and carry her into the house. Wolfe’s immediately on me, his glance catching on her crimson splattered legs. I have a visceral need to clean her father’s filthy blood from her skin. To get every speck of him off of her.
“What happened?” Wolfe cautiously asks, following us through the house.
“I won the auction. Obviously. Lorenzo Pontrelli is dead. I killed him. You’ll need to get the car’s interior cleaned.” That about sums it up.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Cian, can’t you control your temper for one fucking minute?”
I snarl at him. “He beat my wife. He sold her. He confessed, and I fucking killed him. He deserved to die.” No regrets.
“Well, now what the hell are we going to do? You can bet the Italians are going to come for us as soon as they find their don’s body. They’re going to want answers. Or they might just decide to massacre us all. Did you think about that?” He crosses his arms.
I grunt, open my bedroom door and head for the en suite. “I’ll deal with it in the morning.”
“Why not right now?” Wolfe insists.
“Because my wife needs me right now.”
“ Jesus .” Wolfe leaves in a huff. I know he’s disappointed in me, but I’ll deal with that tomorrow too.
Turning on the shower, I step inside, fully clothed, with Ravenna in my arms. Pink water circles down the drain as we stand in the spray.
I set her on her feet and go about unpinning her hair, then removing her bra and panties.
The water reveals that most of her bruises were covered with makeup.
She’s a mottled mess of faded yellow, dark purple and blue.
Lorenzo must have been beating her as soon as she returned home.
As soon as I delivered her to his doorstep.
I grind my teeth.
Please, I’m begging you, don’t leave me here.
Her text message haunts my memory. My chest clenches.
Lorenzo was tormenting her, and all I did was ignore it. Fuck! I’m such an asshole.
As gently as I can, I wash her fragile, battered flesh.
She leans against me as I lather body wash over every inch of her skin, then rinse it away with the handheld sprayer.
In silence, I wash her hair, rinse it, then condition her long auburn locks.
A dark smattering of freckles grace her nose and cheeks, there’s even a couple on her forehead.
As much as I shouldn’t be turned on right now, I’m only human. She’s gorgeous, soft in all the right places, and it’s been nearly a month since we were together.
A twinge of emotion sweeps through me. At first, I can’t place it. Then I realize, I fucking missed her.
Not only physically. Yes, I miss the sex. But more than anything I miss her . Being near her, her scent, the way she looks at me across a table. Her laugh. Her sassy remarks and that stubborn tilt of her head.
The way she screams my name when I make her come.
I bite down on my lip. This is neither the time nor place for dirty thoughts, so I ignore my raging hard-on and finish taking care of Ravenna.
Once she’s clean, I turn off the water and wrap a fluffy white towel around her body. I take a minute to ditch my soaked clothes before looping a towel around my waist. Then I set her on the counter to survey the damage.
Fresh cut lip. Swelling. Bruises.
Fucking piece of shit bastard. If I could kill Lorenzo all over again, I would. This time I’d make him suffer. Kill him slowly so he could confess to every single one of his crimes against this beautiful woman. Torture him until he begged me for death.
“Is anything broken?” I ask, although I already know the answer from examining her in the shower.
She shakes her head.
“Good. I have some ointment for these cuts.” I grab it from a drawer and apply a thin layer to her lip and eyebrow. Then I retrieve the arnica and spread it over her bruises. “I’ll get some ice for that swelling.”
She silently nods. I’m growing worried. Is it the drugs or the shock that’s made her nonverbal? She always has something to say. Always.
I gently cup her face and rest my forehead against hers. Eyes closed, I say, “ Broc meala, It’s my fault that you’re hurt. I never should have left you.”
The man I was before I married Ravenna would never have felt like this.
That past version of myself would believe that she deserved every bruise for lying to me.
I would have called it justice. But something about my wife has changed me and I didn’t realize it until this moment.
Yes she lied, but she didn’t deserve this. Any of it.
She sighs. “It’s not your fault, Cian. It’s mine. If I hadn’t lied and pretended to be my sister, we never would have married. I ruined everything, even though I was trying to save it. I made this mess.”
The very thought of not being married to her, to Ravenna— not Elena — guts me. I can’t imagine myself with any other woman. Anyone other than her feels… wrong.
Fuck, I can’t believe I crave this woman even though she deceived me.
It’s almost like… I’ve forgiven her. But how is that possible?
Given my past, I don’t forgive easily. Or ever.
Yet here I am, ready to forgive her completely.
Ready to accept her reasons and apology and move on with our lives. Ready to give us a second chance.
Who the fuck am I?
“Actually, I’m the one who fucked this up.” I kiss her forehead. “We’re married. What’s done is done. Our issues are ours to sort out and no one else has any right to interfere.”
“Will you ever forgive me?” she asks in a small voice that tears at my heart.
My cynical side rears its ugly head, reminding me that she could be acting. All of this could be one big illusion meant to deceive me, to play on my sympathies, to lure me in only for her to reveal her true, sinister nature.
But that’s not rational thought, that’s fear.
I shake off my suspicions. I can’t keep living my life in fear. What are the chances that both women I’m drawn to turn out to be vipers?
With my luck? Ninety-eight percent or higher.
Shut up , I chide myself.
She pulls away, her gaze downcast. “I understand if you can’t forgive me. What I did was horrible. I stole the future you should have had with my sister. You didn’t deserve that. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, my sister might have made you much happier.”
“No. She wouldn’t have.” I tilt her chin up until she looks at me with those sad grey-blue eyes. “ You make me happy. You’re all I want. And I’ve already forgiven you. For everything.”
“You have?” Hope brightens her tone.
“Yes.” My fingers wrap around her delicate throat. “Just never, ever lie to me again.”
She sucks in a shuddering breath. “Never. I promise.”
“Good. Now we just need to figure out how to stay alive. We could be at war in the morning.”
She gingerly licks her lips. “About that. I have an idea.”