CHAPTER 33
Nirah
PART OF ME always knew it was too good to be true.
The joy, the comfort, the safety. The pure and utter happiness. Because someone like me wasn’t destined for eternal happiness. But temporary fulfillment.
“Of course, you’re worth it,” he reassured me. “You are worth every single thing I’ve done for you.”
He placed his hands underneath my thighs, lifting me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding onto him tightly. I buried my face in his neck, and he walked us to the sofa, sitting down.
I adjusted my legs, pulling my arms from his neck. I hugged him underneath his arms, and he wrapped his arms around me. With my cheek resting against his chest, I let tears stream down my face. He’s holding me. That’s all I need. His warmth, his embrace, his love .
Sniffling, I softly spoke. “Antonio?”
“Yes, tesoro ?”
“Is my body tainted to you now?” I whispered, with a burning ache in my chest. “Do you see me differently?”
“No, of course not,” he immediately answered. “Baby, you’re so much more than what those men did to you. I don’t love you any less. There’s truly nothing in this fucked up world that could make me love you any less.”
I snuggled into his chest and he kissed the top of my head. “You’re my girl, Nirah. It doesn’t matter what you go through, or what you’ve been through, you’re always going to be mine and I am always going to love you.”
A small smile appeared on my face and I parted my lips, feeling my tears dry up. Someone loves me. Antonio loves me.
They were both wrong.
Alexander and Sylvester. I am capable of love, and I’m capable of being loved. Antonio and I proved them wrong.
After my tears dried up, I wiped my face and slowly sat up to face him. “How did you know?”
“Know what?” he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Know that I needed you.”
“I know my girl,” he confidently said. “And your eyes held an emotion that I’ve seen way too many times.
Fear .” I slowly nodded and he continued.
“And, when you weren’t in my bedroom when I got back, I got worried,” he gently cupped the side face.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t get there sooner,” he apologized and I shook my head—letting him know that it was okay.
“My mother needed my help up the stairs, while she ranted about wanting to physically fight my father—God, please tell me you’re not going to be like that and torture our children,” he shook his head and I smiled.
“As long as they turn out like me, we’re all good,” I nonchalantly shrugged my shoulders and his eyebrows scrunched together.
“Why can’t they turn out like me?” he almost defensively asked and I shifted on his lap, taking his face in my hands.
“Antonio Ivan-Yuri De Luca. I am not carrying your demon babies,” I slowly said and he looked away, blinking for a second. “If you want demon babies, I suggest you go make them somewhere else.”
“So you’re willing to carry mentally insane children who will most likely escape a mental asylum in their near future?” he teased—with a serious face—and my jaw dropped.
“Hey. That was badass,” I crossed my arms over my chest and he smiled. With his hands on my waist, he lifted his thighs just a little so that I fell against his chest, our faces inches apart.
“As long as I’m having them with you, I don’t care what they are,” he softly said against my lips and I smiled. I leaned in, pecking his lips softly.
“Why did you believe me?” I hesitantly asked. “Wouldn’t it have been easier for you to accuse me of lying?” I fiddled with my fingers on my lap. Men rarely believed women, even if they’ve seen it with their own eyes.
“I always believe the victim,” he lifted my hands, gently kissing my knuckles. Oh?
I shifted a little, nodding my head. “And why is that?” I reluctantly asked.
He kissed my hands for a little, then met my gaze. “Because they’re strong. It takes a lot of courage to admit what happened to them. Their strength is admirable,” he continued kissing the back of my knuckles, and I smiled.
“The ones who keep quiet are strong too, you know?” I gently cupped his face with both hands.
His eyes held reluctance, and I noticed a flicker of tenderness. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “Most definitely. They have to live with it every day in silence, with no one to lean on or talk to. They heal, all by themselves,” I explained, and something soft bloomed behind his eyes. You’re not weak, Antonio. And what happened to you, doesn’t take away from your strength either.
He only nodded, glancing away from me as though he was mentally gathering himself.
I sat on his lap as we talked for hours before heading up to his bedroom. He clearly didn’t want to talk about what happened, and I wouldn’t force him.
It was currently just after five in the morning, so we slipped back into bed, and I snuggled into his arms, listening to the rainfall. “Do they know?” I asked, resting my cheek on his bare chest. “That you killed him?”
Antonio spoke to his mother on the phone not too long ago. I heard Amelia’s voice, too. And their father’s. He spoke in Italian, so I couldn’t quite understand what was happening.
“Yes,” he answered, giving me gentle head scratches.
“They hate me now, don’t they? Amelia… your mother… I mean, I saw how happy she was when he got there.”
“They hate what he did to you. Alexander has always been the black sheep of the family. My father despised him, and Amelia couldn’t stand him after she found out what he did to women.
My mother always tried to find the good in him, even though he didn’t have any in him.
Her excuse was always that she was his mother and couldn’t disown him like the rest of us. ”
“Oh…” I softly said. “And you? Did you hate him?” I asked, and there was momentary silence.
“No. I didn’t,” he said like he was thinking back.
“Before I knew the real him, I looked up to him. He’d always been the successful older brother.
I never knew what everyone else knew.” There was silence as guilt crept in.
“He and I would spend more time together than Amelia and I would. He played his role well…”
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking up at him.
“Do me a favor and stop apologizing, yeah? You haven’t done anything wrong. I did what I had to do to keep you safe, and I don’t regret it.”
He kissed my lips softly. “I love you,” I gently took his face in my hand, rubbing my thumb along his cheek. “I love you so much it hurts,” I admitted against his lips.
I can’t live without him. He makes me feel happy and loved. He’s my safe space. I can’t lose him. I won’t lose him.
* * *
I woke up to the rain smacking against the windows.
The sky rumbled, and I sat up, feeling cold. He’s not here.
Getting up, I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders before leaving the room.
I looked around and walked into the kitchen.
Not here, either. I walked into the living room and saw him sitting on the sofa with his head thrown back.
My eyes darted to his hand resting on the table beside the sofa, and I watched as his pointer finger tapped the table repeatedly.
I noticed the gun next to his hand and a glass of alcohol opposite it. Thunder clapped in the sky—twice—and a chill ran down my spine. His phone’s screen lit up as he got a notification. He turned his head to check it, and seconds later, he turned his phone off, flipping it over.
Something had upset him now.
Walking over, I hugged him from behind by wrapping my arms around his neck. The blanket hung in front of him, and he held onto my forearms with one hand.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” I asked, kissing his cheek repeatedly.
He simply shook his head, and I rested my chin on his shoulder. “I think it’s your turn to talk to me now,” I softly said, and I felt his chest rise and fall.
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Its not over yet.”
“What do you mean?” I nervously asked, trying to steady my voice.
“There’s someone else involved,” he fists his hand on the table. “Sylvester was supposed to deliver you to Alexander, and he was supposed to deliver you to someone else. The one calling the shots,” he explained, and my arms around his neck loosened.
“How do you know that?” I hesitantly asked.
“Because Alexander’s right-hand man showed up to the house, looking for him. My father got a hold of him and made him talk.”
“Oh.” A beat passed. “Do you have any idea who it could be?” I asked, and he kept his eyes glued to the fireplace.
“It has to be someone from your past.”
“Except for the two dead men, there isn’t anyone else,” I shook my head, and he looked at me. He encouraged me to think, allowing momentary silence to fall over us. “I mean there’s the blond jock that I almost beat half to—oh! Could it be him?” I asked, and Antonio shook his head.
“Three. Three dead men, tesoro . I took care of him a long time ago,” he said, looking back at the fire, and I pulled my head back.
“Excuse me? You ‘ took care ’ of Loren?” I asked in confusion.
“Yes. The day after, you spent the night at my place for the first time.”
“You killed Loren?” I whisper-yelled in disbelief and shock. He nodded, sipping his drink, and I blinked for a while. “Wow, okay,” I breathlessly said, and he lowered his glass to the table. “Just go ahead and kill all the guys I tell you about then,” I sarcastically said.
“Oh, I will,” he nodded—his eyes not meeting mine. He killed Loren, too? He was quiet, and I could see there was something else.
“Hey, what else is bothering you?” I asked while walking around the sofa. I sat down next to him, pulling my legs up. I wrapped myself up in my blanket, snuggling into his side. “Tell me,” I encouraged, and he ran a hand down his face.
“Sylvester’s men trashed your house, and Alexander’s men drove by my house, shooting on the place.” My heart nearly dropped. What… That can’t be true—Mr and Mrs. De Luca… Amelia and Ivan… Rosalia and Cesar… All of them…