4. Scarlett
I walked into the vacant space, the floor empty of tables and chairs, the back counter where the bar was located covered in old dust. Passersby moved down the street, carrying their groceries, sandwiches, or gelato. Pino’s, the sandwich shop my father and I had visited a while ago, wasn’t too far from here.
It was a little dark and a bit small, not exactly what I pictured for a restaurant, but that was how all the restaurants were in this part of town. In a city as old as this, space was very limited. “What do you think?” I turned back around to look at Axel.
He was wearing a long-sleeved gray shirt and black jeans, his thick muscles impervious to the cold. His hands were in his pockets, but he withdrew them and crossed his arms over his chest as he examined the bar. “A little small…”
“They’re all this size on this street.”
He stood at the counter and leaned forward. “You can only have about twelve tables at a time…and the kitchen is cramped.”
“It’s a starter restaurant. I’m not going to open an enormous place right off the bat.”
“Why not?” He pivoted toward me as he leaned against the counter, the light from the hanging lamps striking his blue eyes perfectly. He was a beautiful man, and whenever we were out in public together, I noticed all the stares he got. I saw women ogle him openly, not caring whether I saw. There were times when it got under my skin, but I reminded myself it was the price I had to pay to have a gorgeous husband…and that was a fee I was happy to pay. When I didn’t say anything, his eyes narrowed. “Baby?”
“Hmm?”
A slow grin moved over his face, like he suspected what had distracted me so deeply. “Why not start with a big restaurant?”
“Because I’d have to hire more staff to run it, which costs more money, and if I don’t have customers to support that, then the business goes belly-up. Basically Business Management 101.”
“You’re preparing for failure before you’ve even named your restaurant.”
“I’m not preparing for failure. Just being realistic.”
“Look, I know everyone worth knowing in this city, and I know all the people who come to visit. I recommend your restaurant on opening night, they all love it, reviews come pouring in online and in the papers, and then your restaurant is a massive hit.”
“It’s only a massive hit if they like it.”
“That is one thing we don’t have to worry about,” he said. “They’ll love it.”
“This is going to cost a lot of money,” I said. “I don’t want to lose it?—”
“You won’t.”
“And I really don’t want to lose your money?—”
“Our money.” He left the counter and straightened. “This place is too small, baby. Maybe for something casual like sandwiches and salads or a dessert shop, but not for your cooking. Your culinary excellence deserves serious fanfare. I see lots of black marble, coffered ceilings, gold tumblers, real fancy shit.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re just used to fancy parties and snobby people.”
“And I know what snobby people like—good food.”
“I think I need a second opinion about the cooking. You seem like a guy who would be happy with a sandwich.”
He grinned. “I have my own chef. So I’m used to the finer things in life.”
“I still think you’re biased.”
“What does your father think?”
“I’ve never really cooked for him before. Sometimes I bring things by his house and he likes it, but I’ve never prepared a meal or anything.”
“Invite him over for dinner and see what he thinks.”
“Both of you together?” I asked in disbelief.
“He is my father-in-law.”
“I don’t know if I can trust him. I could put a pile of dog shit on his plate, and he’d eat it with a grin.”
A slight chuckle escaped his lips. “I’d love to see that.”
I smacked his arm playfully and turned to the door.
“You know who will give you their straight opinion?”
We walked out, and the real estate agent locked the door.
“I don’t think this place is right for us,” I said. “We’d like to keep looking.” We said our goodbyes, and then Axel and I walked down the street, past the little shops, as we headed to our car a couple blocks away. “Who?”
“Theo.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ll tell him to like it.”
“I won’t.”
“And even if you don’t, he’s not going to insult his best friend’s wife.”
“He’s not my best friend. He’s my brother.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“I’m not the kind of guy who has a best friend.”
“What about me?” I asked. “I’m not your best friend?”
“You’re definitely not in the friend zone, baby.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Trust me, I don’t see you as a friend. Never have and never will.”
I smirked slightly. “Well, I feel like in order to have a good relationship, you need to be friends. If that weren’t true, then all we would do is fuck and do nothing else in between. We’d just sit there in silence.”
“If it were up to me, we would be having more sex.”
“What?” I asked incredulously. “We do it every morning and every night.”
“And if you didn’t get sore, there would be a lot more in between.”
“Wow, I had no idea.”
His hand reached to my ass and squeezed it, right in front of the people behind us. “With a pussy as pretty as yours, you shouldn’t be surprised.”
I smacked his arm away. “People are staring.”
“I don’t blame them.” His arm moved around my waist, and he tugged me close into his side. “I’d be staring at your ass too.”
“Not everyone is obsessed with my lady bits like you are.”
“Oh, trust me.” His lips moved to my ear. “They are.”
Aldo escorted Theo into the kitchen. “What can I get you to drink?”
“He’ll have what I’m having,” Axel said.
Aldo nodded then poured him a scotch—on the rocks.
He left the room, and Theo took the spot next to Axel on the barstool as I cooked in the kitchen.
Theo clinked his glass against Axel’s before he took a drink. “Never had a woman cook for me before.”
“That’s not true,” I said as I turned back toward them to use the sink. “I made you those pistachio cannoli.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Theo grinned at the memory. “They were good.”
“Really? Because you didn’t eat much of it.”
“Well, I don’t have a big sweet tooth.”
When I looked at Axel, I stilled at the rage on his face. He normally wore a smile with a dash of arrogance in his eyes, but now he looked like he wanted to rip the faucet out of the sink and bash a hole in the wall. “I’m just teasing him?—”
“Do me a favor and never bring that shit up again.” Axel tilted his head back and drank his scotch in one go.
Theo smirked before he clapped him on the back. “It’s all good, Axel. She got the guy she wanted.”
Axel grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass, obviously still pissed.
Theo and I exchanged a quick look.
“What are you making?” he asked.
“A couple things.” I listed off the entrees and the starters, a fusion of European flavors, some Mediterranean tastes with a bit of French cooking.
“That sounds good,” Theo said. “I eat the same shit over and over. Will be nice to have something different.”
Axel still didn’t talk, more interested in the booze in his glass.
“Axel thinks I should open a restaurant, and I would love to have an honest opinion,” I said. “He says his feedback is truthful, but I still wonder if he’s a bit biased because I give him sex.”
“Good sex,” Axel added before he took another drink.
“Well, I’ll give you my ruthless and honest opinion,” Theo said. “Because I don’t give a damn about offending anyone. If your food tastes like shit, I’ll tell you.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Axel was still in a sour mood, but it started to lessen as time went on. The kitchen filled with the aromas of hot food, and my own stomach started to rumble. The hardest part about cooking was keeping everything hot and serving it all at once, but since Axel had a full chef’s kitchen, I was able to manage it. “Alright, let’s eat.” I plated the food and brought out everything at once, the salad, the soup, and the main entrée.
Axel sat across from me, while Theo sat beside him. For the first few minutes, we ate in silence, utensils scraping against plates occasionally. I didn’t ask Theo what he thought of the food, letting him give his own opinion when he was ready.
“I’m not a fan of lemon,” Theo said. “And it’s potent in this chicken.”
“Okay, I used too much lemon.” I made a note to myself.
“But damn, it’s good,” he said. “Nice texture. Cooked well but still juicy and tender. And what is in this?” He pointed to the orange sauce that went with it.
“Tarragon.”
“Good shit.” He continued to eat. “It’s all good.”
Axel grinned at me. “What did I tell you? This guy would not eat dog shit.”
“What?” Theo asked quizzically.
“Nothing,” Axel said quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Who eats dog shit?” Theo asked.
“Dante,” Axel said quickly.
“What?” he asked with a confused expression.
“Yep,” Axel said before he took a drink. “Spread the word.”
I shook my head. “I said my father would eat my cooking and smile even if it were dog shit. That’s why I didn’t ask for his opinion.”
“I see,” Theo said with a grin.
We ate in comfortable silence, the three of us devouring everything on our plates and washing it down with the wine and scotch.
“Axel thinks we should lease a big restaurant, but I think we should start off small,” I said.
“Correction,” Axel said. “She wants a hole-in-the-wall.”
“Hole-in-the-wall places are always charming.” I drank my wine, the only person at the table to have any.
“I don’t think this food fits that aesthetic,” Theo said. “This is the kind of food a billionaire eats with one of his many mistresses, so rich that his wife can’t say anything. Otherwise, she’ll lose her allowance for shopping sprees and trips with the girls.”
Axel grinned because he was right. “Thank you.”
“A place like that is awfully ambitious.”
“I know the restaurant business,” Theo said. “I think you’ll be fine.”
“That’s right.” I’d forgotten the times we visited his restaurant. We went there for our first date, and I’d enjoyed the food.
“I’m not a chef,” Theo said. “But I know good food. This is good.”
Axel stared at me. “Looks like it’s two to one, baby.”
“What have you got to lose?” Theo asked.
“Um, probably hundreds of thousands of euro…”
Theo shrugged. “No big deal.”
“Maybe not for you.” Rich people spent money like it meant nothing to them. My father was the same way, sometimes careless with his wealth, but never careless enough to give me a bigger piece of the pie.
“It’s settled,” Axel said. “We’ll find a bigger place. Something more appropriate for this fine cuisine.”
I brought the dishes and pans to the sink and started the faucet, letting the water run warm before soaking the sponge and squirting the soap in the center.
Axel stood across the counter from me. “What are you doing?”
My eyes lifted. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“I have people for that.”
“It’s late, and it’s not a big deal.”
“They’ll clean it tomorrow, then.”
“I don’t mind cleaning up after myself.”
Axel came around the counter and shut off the faucet. “They had a night off because you did all the cooking. Think of it that way.”
“I can carry my own weight around here.” I turned on the faucet again.
He hit the handle and shut off the water. “If you do the cooking and the cleaning, then what do I need them for? You want them to lose their jobs?”
“No—”
“Then let’s go to bed. Your food turns me on.”
I released a chuckle. “Never heard that one before…”
“It’s true. You’re a master in the kitchen, and that’s sexy. Like watching me work out is sexy.”
“Are you a master in the weight room?”
His arm moved around my waist, and he flashed me that handsome grin. “Watch me and decide for yourself.”
We left the kitchen and headed upstairs to the bedroom that felt like a mile away. The villa was grand, grand enough to be a boutique hotel that could accommodate twenty-five guests comfortably.
“You ever think about downsizing?” I asked when we walked into the bedroom.
“Why would I?”
“Because your bedroom is a five-minute walk from the main part of the house.”
He entered the bedroom and tugged his shirt over his head, revealing a back hard with muscles that hugged both sides of his spine.
“I just think this place is too big for one person.”
He kicked off his shoes and removed his jeans. “It’s not one person. It’s two.” He faced me, standing in his black boxers, ripped and tight despite the heavy meal we’d just devoured. “And eventually, it’ll be four. So I think it’s just fine.”
“Four?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
“You want more?”
“Are you referring to children?”
“Well, I’m not talking about dogs.”
“I didn’t realize you knew exactly how many kids you wanted.”
“Women are the only ones allowed to think about that sort of thing?” He sat on the foot of the bed, knees wide apart, his hands together between his thighs.
“No…I just didn’t think you did.”
“I didn’t enjoy being an only child. I think every kid deserves a sibling.”
“Well, I was an only child, and I was fine with it.”
“You only want one, then?”
“I’m not saying that?—”
“Then how many do you want?”
“I—I don’t know.” I pulled my blouse over my head and tossed it on the armchair then moved to my jeans and shoes. I undressed in front of him, feeling his heavy stare glued to me. “I’m only twenty-five. Not really in a rush, I guess.”
“I’m in my thirties now, so I’m in a different place.” He watched me, his eyes hard. “But I’ll be patient as long as you need me to.”
“You’d want kids right now if I was willing?” I asked incredulously. “We’ve been married a couple months.”
He gave a shrug. “Right this very second? Maybe not. But if we started trying in the next year…I wouldn’t mind that.”
“I’m not sure what to say to that. Normally, you’ve got to twist a guy’s arm to get a ring and a family. They’re too objective to understand the emotional fulfillment of children. All they focus on is the things they’ll lose rather than the things they’ll gain.”
He gave a shrug. “If you asked me this a year ago, I’d probably agree with you.”
“What changed?”
He continued to stare at me, that stare becoming hard as steel. He didn’t speak, but he conveyed so much with that simple look.
I swallowed.
“Come here.” He straightened and patted his thigh.
I moved to him, and instead of my sitting across his lap sideways, he pulled me onto him, adjusting me on his lap as his big hands squeezed my cheeks. He was so tall that we were still eye level even when I was on top of him, and those blue eyes made me weak all over.
He looked into my face like he’d never seen me before, never took the time to look at me. Then he touched his forehead to mine, his hands gripping my cheeks in my thong. His eyes dropped, looking down as he held me close.
My fingers moved into the back of his short hair, and I could feel the pulse in his neck with my fingertips. Soft. Slow. Soothing. An old pain ached in my heart, a pain that I’d shunted long ago. Being around him generated an energy that hurt as much as it felt good, a high that I’d never reached with anyone else. It happened every time I looked at him, every time I saw him smile, every time I felt him treat me like a goddess rather than yesterday’s trash.
He lifted his gaze and locked on mine, his eyes somehow bright despite the darkness in the bedroom. He possessed his own luminance, a radiance that couldn’t be shadowed by the heaviest rain cloud. After a quick glance at my lips, he leaned in and kissed me, a hard kiss that had no preamble. His mouth latched on to mine with intensity as his hand slid into my hair, fisting the strands and getting a hold of me like a rider with his horse. His other arm cradled me to him, keeping me secure on his lap as he kissed me like it was the first time he’d gotten the chance to feel my lips.
No one had ever kissed me with that kind of passion. No one had ever made me feel beautiful the way he did. He was the perfect man, on the inside as well as the outside, and it was easy to forget the way he’d hurt me.
Easy because I really believed he would never do it again.
Maybe that made me an idiot, but I didn’t care.
He rolled me onto my back and moved on top of me, our bodies at the corner of the bed. His big hand grasped my thong and pulled it down until my legs were free of the silk. He tugged the front of his boxers down so his big dick could come free. Then we were united in a rush, his huge size filling me completely, our breaths coming out as muffled whispers.
He grabbed my ankle and positioned my foot against his chest, bending my flexible body like I was a doll, deepening the angle so he could make me feel the fullest I’d ever been. When I gave a wince at his intrusion, it only excited him. When he had me exactly where he wanted me, he grabbed me by the throat as he thrust into me, pounding into me with the power of a mountain.
I was possessed by this man, fully and utterly, and I’d never been possessed in the same way by anyone else. He marked me like a tattoo, branded me like a cow in his herd, tied an invisible leash around my throat that only the two of us could see.
“You’re mine, baby.” His fingers tightened on my throat a little more, almost cutting off my air.
His deep voice was like an addictive drug, so sexy it made me feel weak. My eyes closed, and I savored the way he spoke, locking it in the vault of my mind to treasure always.
“Say it.”
My eyes opened again.
“Say it, baby.”
“I’m yours…”
“Louder.”
I tried to project my voice with his fingers firmly against my throat. I pushed through the pressure and let my voice sing. “I’m yours.”
The valet tried to open the door for me, but Axel got there and shooed him away. “I got it.” He opened the door and gave me his hand, helping me from the low seat to my feet. When we stepped onto the sidewalk, Axel tossed the valet the keys and then guided me to the entryway. There was a line of people, another party with champagne and gowns and tuxes.
“You ever get tired of these?” I asked him.
“Not when you’re with me.” His arm moved around my waist, and he pulled me close, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
We entered the villa, the grand entryway turned into a large party with waiters and a quartet filling the room with a symphony of music.
“Whose house is this?” I asked when the waiter handed us glasses of champagne.
“Arturo Balannie. He was the mayor of Florence for many years until he retired. My parents and I used to see him all the time.”
“Will your parents be here?”
He shrugged. “Who knows?” He moved forward and spotted Arturo. “Happy birthday, Arturo. Not too many people live to be a hundred, so congratulations.”
Arturo gave him a glare, but it was mixed with affection, the way a grandfather viewed his grandkids even when they were being rowdy and impolite. “My wife sure doesn’t think I’m a hundred.”
Axel gave him a wink before he nudged him in the side. “I like your style, man. Speaking of wives…” He turned to me. “This is Scarlett.”
“I didn’t know you were married.” He shook my hand then kissed me on the cheek. “Lovely to meet you, dear.”
“We got married a couple months ago,” Axel said. “Kinda like a shotgun wedding but without the pregnancy.”
“What was the rush?” Arturo asked.
“Look at her.” Axel grinned. “When I got her to say yes, I didn’t want to give her time to change her mind.”
Arturo laughed, clearly smitten with Axel.
It was ridiculous because I knew every woman saw us together and wondered how I nabbed him. Tall, muscular, crystal-blue eyes…the guy had it all. And to top it off, he was so sweet. He seemed unreal at times, too good to be true. But somehow, he was mine—for the rest of my life, if that’s what I wanted.
They talked for a while longer before we moved on so Arturo could chat with other people who’d come to his Tuscan villa to celebrate. It was freezing outside, winter lingering, but it was like a preheated oven indoors.
“He seemed nice,” I said.
“Yeah, he’s one of the good ones.”
“Good ones?”
“Doesn’t take bribes, have mistresses, that sort of thing.”
“So if he knew the business you were in, would he want you here?”
“He knows.”
“And he doesn’t report you?”
“He’s righteous, but he’s not a rat.” He finished his champagne with a grimace and set it on an empty tray carried by a passing waiter. “Hungry?”
“Sure.”
We moved to an empty table, and Axel pulled out the chair for me. “I’ll be back.” He walked to the buffet line and took two plates, snagging a couple small appetizers before he returned. “I have no idea what any of this is, so I grabbed it all.”
“Looks good.” It was an assortment of small bites, brie backed in a delicate pastry, mini beef Wellingtons, and bacon-wrapped scallops.
His arm rested over the back of my chair, and he took a bite here and there but didn’t seem hungry because he didn’t scarf down his food like he normally did. “Not as good as your stuff.”
“You don’t have to compliment my food every time we eat.”
“I mean it.”
“But if you enjoy other food, it doesn’t mean you’re betraying me.”
He smirked. “I could eat your food for every meal for the rest of my life. Same goes for your pussy.”
I gave him a smack. “We’re in public.”
“So?” The grin remained. “No one heard me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“And I don’t care if they did.”
“Well, I care.” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Don’t want people to overhear us talking about my girl.”
“Your girl?” he asked. “She’s my girl.”
“Don’t be crude. We’re at a party.”
“You think that’s crude? I’ll take you into a guest bedroom and show you crude.”
I smacked him in the arm. “My god.”
His fingers touched my hair as he sat beside me, gently running through the strands. “I’m married to the woman of my dreams. Of course my dick is going to be hard all the time.”
“Let’s stop saying dick and pussy and everything else in between.”
His smirk remained like he was having the time of his life. “What do you want me to say? I’m fucking happy.” He glanced across the room, looked at the people as they mingled and drank, as they enjoyed the music.
I stared at the side of his face, his words sinking into me like pieces of metal. My heart tightened in my chest, giving a dull ache that interrupted my breathing. I could see the slight smile on his lips, see the joy in his eyes. Last time we’d gone to a party, his parents had been there, making their disownment very apparent. He was miserable. But now…he was a different man. “Why?”
“Come on, baby. Don’t play dumb.” He turned to look at me straight on. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” The slight smile on his lips slowly faded as he continued to look at my expression.
I didn’t know how I looked, but I must have looked less than happy at that announcement. I felt trapped, restrained by invisible ropes that bound me in place, that prohibited me from being free. My heart wanted to sing and dance, to let him deep inside me, to know me the way he used to…but I just couldn’t.
I couldn’t.
It was a quiet ride home.
The elevator ride was stuffy.
The walk up the stairs and to the bedroom was somehow the most uncomfortable of all.
We entered the master suite, and I headed straight to the closet to slip off my heels and unzip the black dress. It was the first moment of privacy I’d had, the first moment I didn’t have to share the contentious air with him.
I removed my jewelry and pulled on a shirt before I stepped out of the closet.
He sat in one of the armchairs, ankle crossed and resting on the opposite knee, his tie yanked loose with his jacket tossed over the back of the chair. He stared at me with that hard look, not the intense one that hinted at the desire beneath the surface, but the one that showed the depth of his anger, his disappointment.
I froze in place as if he’d just yelled at me when he didn’t say a word. I stood there and waited for him to speak, to lash out at me, to say whatever was on his mind.
He propped his elbow on the armrest and dragged his fingers across his jawline. His blue eyes weren’t bright anymore. No longer playful. Just dark and angry. “I can’t do this anymore.”
I sucked in a breath, feeling the same fist in my stomach as the night he’d left me.
“You’re either in this marriage with me, one hundred percent, or you’re not.” He’d spoken at a normal decibel up until that point, but it skyrocketed after that. “Which is it?”
I stilled as if he’d just backhanded me.
“I’m tired of our moments being shattered by your sabotage. I’m tired of feeling you run whenever I get a little deeper into your heart. I’m tired of this fucking brick wall that you put up every time I get too close. This marriage is never going to work if you keep one foot out the door. Do you understand me?”
I was paralyzed by his anger. Paralyzed by the fact that he could read me so well, see my mind withdraw into another room when my body hadn’t moved an inch.
He got to his feet, the top buttons of his shirt undone and revealing part of his chest. “Scarlett?—”
“Yes, I understand you.” I turned away.
“Then why aren’t you looking at me?”
I focused on the window, which was obscured by the closed curtain. “It’s not that easy…to just forget.”
“It’s not easy when you don’t let yourself.”
“That’s not how the brain and the heart work. You have no idea how much you hurt me?—”
“Yes, I do. I’m so sorry for what happened, but you need to forgive me and move on.”
“Forgive you?” My eyes came back to him. “I never would have married you if I’d had another choice?—”
“I said you could leave if you wanted, but you chose to stay.”
“Well, maybe I shouldn’t stay.” My eyes flicked down, not wanting to look at his face. I had no idea how he looked, but I could feel the rush of pain fill the room like smoke. “As much as I…care for you…it’s never going to go away.”
“It’s never going to go away if you don’t let it go.”
“Let it go?” I looked up to meet his stare. “If the situations were reversed, you would not let it go. You deserve a lot more than a woman who chooses someone else. You’re too good and kind to settle for that.”
He gave a sigh. “We can’t have a marriage if you pull away every time we get close. I need you to let it go—for us.”
“I don’t think I can?—”
“Yes, you can.”
“No.” I looked away again, the roof of my mouth on fire from the impending tears. “It’s really unfair that you pressure me to get over this when it wouldn’t be easy for anyone to get over. You want us to be what we were, as if nothing happened, and that’s just not possible. It would have been possible if you’d just?—”
“I can’t do this anymore. It’s fucking bullshit, and I’m over it.”
I stilled, feeling as if he’d slapped me again. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He took a couple breaths, his face tinted red in anger. “I trust you. I trust you with my fucking life. So I’m going to tell you something, and you have to promise me you’ll keep it to yourself. Promise me.”
My heart raced at a different speed as the situation became far more intense. As if I stood on the edge of a cliff, blind and deaf, I didn’t know whether I should take a step back or a step forward. Any move was risky. “What—what do you need to tell me?”
“Promise you won’t say a word of it to another soul—especially your father. Not only can you not tell him, but you have to act like there’s nothing to tell, like everything is exactly the same between you. Promise me.”
My eyes flicked back and forth between his, my heart practically jumping out of my chest at this point. “You want me to keep a secret from him?”
“Yes.”
“Will this secret cause anyone harm?—”
“This secret has nothing to do with the present or the future. It’s in the past. No one is at risk of harm. Well, except for me.” He took a breath as he stared at me. “You may not believe me, but regardless, I need you to keep it to yourself. Can you do that?”
“If it’s so risky, why even tell me?—”
“Because I love you. And I’m not losing you. Not over this.” He shook his head. “So, promise me.”
A part of me wanted to wash my hands clean and walk away from this. I suspected this was something I was better off not knowing. But Axel’s plea had me hooked to the spot. “Alright…I promise.”
He dropped his chin and took a breath, both relieved and overwhelmed that I gave the answer he wanted. “Alright.” He straightened, his eyes focused just a few inches below mine before he found the strength to look at me. “Remember when we pretended to break up to throw your father off the scent?”
“Yes.”
“It worked. But when we went to that art gala, he caught me staring at you across the room.” He grabbed his tie and pulled it from his neck altogether before he tossed it aside, missing the armchair because the material was so floppy. “It was just a look, but…it was enough. He told me I wasn’t good enough for you and if I didn’t leave you, there would be consequences.”
I felt my chest expand to allow for bigger breaths. My pulse quickened, pounding in both my neck and my temple. The only thing I had in this world was my father, a man who loved me so much that he made every sacrifice with a smirk. I couldn’t believe the accusation Axel was making. “What consequences?”
“He’d kill my father.”
I took a step back, as if Axel had just threatened me. “No…”
“I tried to end things…you remember.” His eyes dropped. “But you held on to me because you knew…you fucking knew that I didn’t want to go. You believed in us so deeply, and it was fucking agonizing to try to shake you.” He clenched his jaw. “Nothing has ever hurt so much in my damn life.”
I shook my head, unable to believe it.
“One night, I went to see your father…and he had my father there…with a gun to his head. Said if I didn’t do it, he would put him in the ground.”
“No…”
His eyes lifted to mine. “I told him I loved you, and that I suspected you loved me, but that changed nothing.” He shook his head. “Nothing at all. I told him I’d tried to shake you, but you wouldn’t let me go…so he forced me to do something despicable.” He swallowed. “Cassandra.”
My arms folded over my chest as a protective barrier, but they couldn’t protect my heart from his words.
“He shot my father in the arm anyway, just because I’d taken so long.”
I pulled my gaze away from his face entirely, the adrenaline pumping through my heart so potent that I started to feel dizzy. My fingers squeezed my arms like a crutch, but I was too weak to support my body. I opened my mouth to speak, but hardly anything came out. “No…”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
I wouldn’t look at him. “My father would never…” I shook my head because I just couldn’t believe it. “He would never do something like that.”
“Baby.”
My eyes were determined to avoid his.
“You know I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this. I wouldn’t lie to you about anything.”
“My dad wouldn’t hurt an innocent person?—”
“He did.” Now his voice was no longer gentle, but callous. “What little hope I had left that my parents and I would reconcile disappeared that night. My parents barely tolerated my presence before, but now they refuse to be in the same room with me. My father’s arm will be fucked up for the rest of his life, and he blames me for that…as he should. But I still walked away from the love of my life to keep him alive. I let her think that I would replace her with someone else as if she meant nothing to me…just to keep him alive. Keep alive a man who despises me.”
I stared at the floor, trembling. “I…” I didn’t know what to say. Where to start. What to believe.
“He said I wasn’t good enough for you. That I’m some barbaric criminal. But I think that was all an excuse. He just wanted to use you to further his gains, and setting you up with the Skull King was the perfect union. If Theo and I weren’t close, your father would have forged an alliance with the most powerful kingpin in Italy. Just like the princesses who were married to princes of other powerful kingdoms…all to increase their territory and power. He says I’m barbaric, but he treats you like a fucking bargaining chip.”
“My father loves me?—”
“I know he does. But he uses you too.”
I stepped away, turned my back to Axel, and moved closer to the wall. There was a painting there I’d never noticed before. I stared at it without really seeing it, my hands continuing to squeeze my arms.
He gave me a couple minutes to absorb all the horror.
I continued to stare at the painting.
“Think about it,” he said quietly. “What are the odds that I would walk into the same restaurant as you with another woman?”
My breathing remained hard. My eyes turned wet.
“Quite a coincidence, if you ask me.”
I stared at the floor next.
His voice dropped. “It ruined me to do that to you.”
The memory was still horrible, seeing him pull out the chair for her and drink his wine.
“I begged him not to make me do it—fucking begged—but he didn’t give a shit. As long as he got what he wanted, he didn’t care about the consequences. He didn’t care that it broke your heart irrevocably.” He came closer to me, his voice growing louder. “Screwing over your father and demanding you to be my wife was the only way I could get you back. It’s not how I wanted to do things. It’s not how I wanted us to have our wedding. But I think we would have ended up together if your father hadn’t manipulated us both. I believe we would have ended up together.” His hands moved to my shoulders, and he gripped me, his head resting against the back of my head. “Baby?”
I stepped away, needing air to breathe, needing to escape the suffocating heat that had come out of nowhere.
He gave a sigh in disappointment.
“He—he wouldn’t do that to me.” I faced him again, tears heavy in my eyes.
“I know this is a lot?—”
“He would never…” The tears grew so heavy, they skidded down my cheeks.
“I know this is a lot,” he repeated. “But I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“And my father would never do something so heinous?—”
“It comes down to this.” He came closer to me. “One of us is lying—and it’s not me.”
“You could have made all of this up so I would forget about Cassandra.”
He gave an annoyed sigh. “Quite an elaborate lie.”
I stepped away, needing more space from him.
He winced when I moved away from him. “I’m not lying, Scarlett.”
“Then let me confront my father?—”
“No. I told you what he’ll do.”
“But if he tries to kill your father, I’ll know it’s him?—”
“And he said if that happens, he’ll lose you, so I may as well lose someone too.” He came closer to me. “You promised me you wouldn’t say anything. My father’s life is literally on the line right now.”
“It’s an amazing coincidence that you’re accusing my father of all these things, and I can never question him about it.” My eyes shifted away. “That he can never confirm or deny these allegations. Quite convenient.” My eyes moved back to him.
He wore an expression he’d never had before. The anger in his eyes was masked with defeat. His shoulders slouched. His skin was suddenly paler than it’d ever been. All the intensity he usually wore when he looked at me had evaporated in just a few seconds. “You don’t believe me.”
“I—I didn’t say that.”
“You either believe me, or you don’t,” he said simply. “I thought you would.”
“My father… We’re so close. He loves me so much. I just can’t?—”
“I love you more than he ever will. Than he ever has.” He continued to speak with defeat, without passion. “When I tried to break things off and you wouldn’t let me, I fell so fucking hard for you. When you asked if there was something I wasn’t telling you, I wanted to break down. You saw me in a way no one ever has. I hoped that telling you the truth would bring that back, would make you look at me like that again. But I can see that it hasn’t.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the floor. “You either need to forgive me for what you think happened with Cassandra…or you need to believe my story. If your answer is neither, I think this marriage is over.” He lifted his eyes to look at me, the sorrow heavy in his stare, like he already knew what I would say. “I love you…so fucking much, but I can’t keep fighting for you. I can’t continue to fight a battle that I clearly have no chance of winning.”
Tears streaked down my cheeks, a culmination of all my emotions, all my despair. The sobs wanted to rack my chest, but I kept them back, refusing to dissolve into a puddle right before his eyes.
He stared at me for minutes and waited for me to say something, his eyes still hollow, still devoid of all emotion. Then he cleared his throat. “It’s late.” He rubbed one of his arms through the sleeve of his shirt. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight. Aldo will help you with your things in the morning.” His words trailed off like there could be more, like he hoped I would interrupt him, tell him that I wanted to stay, that I believed his story…
But I didn’t.