Chapter 8 #2
Agnello and I glare at each other over Adora’s head. A silent battle of wills.
I see the calculation in his eyes. He wants to call his guards. Wants to order my death and watch me bleed out on his expensive carpet.
But he’s not sure they’ll arrive in time before I kill him.
The only thing holding me back is Adora. That has to sting, knowing she has more power over me than he does.
Finally, something shifts in his expression. The rage doesn’t disappear, but it gets locked away behind cold calculation.
“I have consented to you marrying my daughter, but I will remind you that we’re doing this properly,” Agnello says, straightening his cuffs with sharp, angry movements.
“The Montonis won’t lose face in front of the other families.
I won’t allow a filthy Vici to ravish my daughter before casting her aside.
There will be a proper wedding, and until then, she remains under this roof. Untouched.”
Every muscle in my body tenses, and my eyes narrow. He’s drawing a line, asserting control where he’s already lost it. Trying to claw back some semblance of power.
I should tell him to go to hell and take Adora with me right now.
Adora’s hand tightens on my shirt, and I feel her silent plea. Don’t make this worse. Please.
I lower my voice and say to Adora, “You can’t stay in this house after what he’s done to you.”
There’s a flicker of fear in her gaze as she looks up at me. Adora is terrified of her father, but she still won’t run into my arms. And I know why.
Better the devil she knows.
Adora still doesn’t trust me.
“Fine,” I bite out, the word tasting like ash.
It galls me to play his game. But for her, I’ll wait. For now.
Agnello’s mouth curves into something that’s not quite a smile. “Good.” He glances between us, calculation sharp in his eyes. “Adora, why don’t you offer our guest a drink?”
Adora’s face pales.
He turns and strides toward the door, then pauses at the threshold. “Vincenzo? If you lay a hand on her, I’ll kill you.”
Then he’s gone, the door slamming behind him with enough force to rattle the crystal decanter on the desk.
The silence he leaves behind is deafening.
Adora sags slightly, like whatever was holding her upright just gave out. I catch her, pulling her against my chest before she can fall.
She’s shaking violently, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
“Breathe,” I murmur, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her head. “Just breathe, doe.”
She fists her hands in my shirt, clinging to me like I’m the only solid thing in her world.
We stand there for a long moment, her trembling against me, my arms wrapped around her like I can shield her from everything that just happened.
Finally, she pulls back slightly, just enough to look up at me. I was expecting her eyes to be bright with unshed tears, but instead they’re glittering with anger.
“Are you crazy? Why did you come here? You could have been killed.”
Her vehemence takes me aback.
“You didn’t need to save me from Dad. I can save myself.”
“When?” I demand, my grip tightening on her upper arms. “How many more bruises is he going to give you before you escape him?”
Her lips part, and then she closes them again. Her thoughts seem to race, and she finally says, “You’ve forced yourself into a marriage with a woman you hate. How is that helping either of us?”
A woman I hate. Is that really what she thinks?
Slowly, I caress her soft skin with my thumbs. “Is it true?”
She blinks, confused. “Is what true?”
“The engagement party.” I force myself to hold her gaze even though every part of me wants to look away from the pain I’m about to cause both of us. “You didn’t know my family would all be murdered. He used you as bait.”
Her face crumples. Fresh tears spill down her cheeks.
“I didn’t know,” she whispers, her voice breaking.
“He told me it was a real engagement party and that we were making peace. I thought—” A sob cuts off her words and her hands clench on my shirt.
“I thought I was going to meet my future husband and his family. I was so nervous. I spent hours choosing my dress. I wanted you to like me. Then they started shooting, and your mother was dying, and I tried to help her but they dragged me away, and…”
Grief lances through me, vivid and overpowering. I thought Mom died alone, terrified and devastated among the bodies of those she loved, but I see the scene anew.
Adora is there, cradling my mother as she took her last breaths.
I pull back just enough to cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. “Why didn’t you tell me? All this time, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because they died because of me.” Her words tumble out desperately. “I should have suspected something. Should have done something. It’s all my fault.”
“No.” I grip her urgently. “They died because your father is a murderous, power-hungry bastard. Not because of you.”
She stares at me with those wounded amber eyes. “Whether I knew about it beforehand or not, they’re still dead. I was part of it. You’ll never be able to look at me without remembering that I was the reason they walked into that room. So how is that any different from pulling the trigger myself?”
The guilt in her voice breaks something in me.
“Adora.” I tilt her chin up, making sure she’s looking at me. Really looking at me. “Listen to me. You are not responsible for what he did. You were a victim too.”
“But—”
“No.” I press my thumb gently against her lips, silencing her protest. “You’re his daughter. You trusted him. And he betrayed that trust in the worst possible way.”
A tear slips down her cheek. I catch it with my fingertip, smoothing it away.
“I’ve spent weeks hating you,” I admit, and the words taste bitter. “Blaming you. Destroying your things. And I’m sorry. Christ, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Of course you hate me,” she says miserably.
“I don’t. Do you hear me? I don’t hate you.”
We stand there in her father’s mansion, surrounded by his wealth and power and cruelty. Her tears are soaking through my shirt. Her heartbeat races against my chest. Something fundamental shifts inside me.
Adora is not my enemy.
She never was.
My need for revenge crystallizes into something sharper, more focused.
I’m not just going to kill Agnello for what he did to my family.
I’m going to kill him for what he’s done to Adora.
And I’m going to enjoy every second.
“How bad is it?” I ask quietly, needing to know the full extent of it. “Adora. Tell me the truth. How often does he hit you?”
She goes very still in my arms.
The silence stretches between us, heavy and damning.
Darkness and violence unfurl inside me. A cold, calculated rage that has nothing to do with revenge for my family and everything to do with the woman in my arms.
“How long?” My voice is dangerously quiet. “How long has he been doing this to you?”
She won’t meet my eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. How long, Adora?”
Tears track silently down her face. “Always,” she whispers. “For as long as I can remember.”
My family suffered for a moment that day in the ballroom.
Her suffering has been going on for years.
“Christ,” I breathe, pulling her back against my chest. “I’m so fucking sorry. I won’t let him hurt you again.”
She makes a small, broken sound and buries her face in my shirt.
Agnello Montoni will pay for what he’s done.
After a long moment sunk in thought, I say, “Doe? I don’t trust your bodyguards. Where were they tonight when you needed them?”
She raises her face to mine, and her eyes fill with puzzlement. “Their job is to protect me from you, not from Dad.”
I capture her jaw and caress it. With her face tilted upward, her lips are so close to mine.
I won’t feel good about her living in this house until I know that someone’s watching over her. Someone I trust.
My lips ghosting over hers, I whisper, “Then you need a new bodyguard.”