44. CHAPTER 43—ANTONIO
CHAPTER 43—ANTONIO
I stood at the window while she slept, rereading the letter that's haunted me for years, her scent clinging to my skin, honeysuckle and sex mixing with memories I can't afford to keep. Last night... fuck. Last night I almost believed we could be something else. Something more.
The way she trusted me, let me take care of her, looked at me like I was still the man who played piano instead of the Beast I've become. For a moment, watching her sleep in my bed, I let myself imagine a different future. One where revenge doesn't burn like acid in my mouth. One where her scars and mine could forge something stronger than hatred.
But this letter... My mother's last words burn like fresh flames. Make me remember exactly who Isabella is - her father's daughter. A Moretti to her core. Everything soft and yielding about her is just another performance, just like every kiss we shared.
And that makes me fucking furious. Because for one stupid moment, I wished too. Wished we could be those kids again - her dancing while I played, both of us untouched by fire and betrayal. That wish makes me want to burn everything down harder. Makes me want to show her exactly how thoroughly the Beast can break what Tonio worshipped.
When I turn back to the bed, the sheet has slipped down, revealing marks I left on her skin. My hands itch to add more - not gentle like last night, but brutal. Claiming. The kind that'll make her remember who owns her now.
I drop the letter between us like a bomb.
Her eyes widen, and the silence that follows tastes like victory and defeat mixed together. Her fingers hover over the paper without touching it, and something that looks too much like genuine sadness crosses her face. Is this another fucking performance? Another way to crawl under my skin?
I pace to the window, letting the ocean's roar match the fury in my chest. When I whirl back around, she hasn't moved. Her hand still hovers over those words that rewrote everything, but she won't pick it up. Won't face what she helped destroy.
"You looked surprised there for a second." I keep my distance because her scent is everywhere, because if I get too close I might forget why I hate her. The rage building in my chest feels like that night everything burned - unstoppable, uncontrollable.
Her lip trembles, but she inhales like she's trying to hold herself together. Like she knows the game is over. Like she knows last night's tenderness was just another weapon in this war between us.
"It's not... How?" The words barely make it past her lips, and is that real fear in her voice? Real pain?
Too bad I stopped believing in her performances the night my mother died
I don't move. Just let my rage build like flames finding fresh fuel. "You think I didn't have eyes everywhere? Think I didn't know she told you her plans right before someone put her in the ground?" I close the distance between us, grip her chin, and fuck - even now her skin under my fingers sets something burning in my chest. Something that should've died in fire years ago. Something that writhes in the cavity where my heart used to beat before her father tried teaching me about power, about pain. Before he carved his lesson into my flesh without realizing he was forging steel instead of breaking it.
Because that's what I am now. Fucking steel. You can melt it, reshape it, but it doesn't burn like paper. And that's all she is - delicate pages waiting to catch fire. Beautiful. Breakable. While I'm nothing but hardened metal and sharp edges. Everything soft got burned away. Everything tender turned to ash. This whole night was just another step toward making her pay for the life she helped destroy.
Time to remind us both of that truth. "You killed her, Bellarina." The nickname her father gave her makes her flinch - or maybe it's the ice in my voice. The promise of what comes next.
Because the Beast remembers why he's here now.
Remembers what paper does when it meets flame.
Remembers how sweetly it burns.
"I didn't." Her tears look real, crystal drops marking perfect paths down cheeks I was just kissing. The break in her voice sounds like genuine pain. Like she actually bleeds for what she destroyed. “She’s not dead,” she whispers.
And I laugh. “Not dead?”
“My dad… he said… he beat her. He forced her to leave, to never come back, but she’s not dead.” She pauses, her eyes wild. “Is she here? Did you…. Find her? He said her blood may be crimson on his shirt, but her blood was on my hands.”
“He killed her. Or had Georgio killed her,” I tell her. “And your lies aren’t helping.”
She’s shaking, muttering, “No, no, no. That’s not true. He said she’d never come back. But he said… he promised he didn’t kill her.”
“Do you want to see the pictures? Her face? The bullet in her chest?”
She shakes so much I’m wondering if I shouldn’t get her some of her medicine. But then she looks up at me, tears in her eyes.
“I don’t believe your act,” I snarl. “Because you knew. Guilt may fucking eat you alive. I don’t care.”
If she feels guilt now, it's because the truth's finally caught up. Because she knows exactly whose death warrant she signed with her silence.
“You killed her.”
I release her chin but she holds my gaze - defiant even naked, even breaking. Fucking typical. "You showed him the letter."
"I didn't." Her protest comes weak as her excuses. A laugh tears from my throat like broken glass - always the innocent princess, the precious ballerina. Too pure to get her hands dirty, preferring to dance away from ugly truths.
But I lived in that truth. Breathed it. Bathed in flame until it forged me into something stronger. Something that could rise from the ashes she helped create. Something that could make her pay.
Without her betrayal, my mother would still be breathing.
Isabella might not have pulled the trigger, but her hands drip just as red. She knew exactly what choosing daddy's side would cost - knew the price would be paid in my mother's blood.
"Read it." My voice comes quiet as an executioner's blade. Precise. Final.
Because the Beast remembers everything.
Every reason she needs to burn.
Isabella wraps herself in sheets that still smell like us - like every lie I whispered against her skin last night. When she shivers again, something in me wants to grab that fallen blanket, cover her like I did after making her come apart in my arms. Fucking weakness. Last night... christ, last night I let myself forget. Let the Beast believe in redemption while I was buried inside her, while she was crying my name like a prayer. For one stupid moment, I actually thought maybe...
"Read it." My voice carries ice now, not heat. "Or are you too much of a coward? Too much your father's daughter?"
The words burn my tongue like acid. Yeah, I fucked her. Made it good enough to ruin her for anyone else. But that was strategy, wasn't it? The higher they climb, the harder they fall. Last night wasn't about pleasure - wasn't about how perfect she felt under me, how she made the Beast forget about revenge. It was about making sure she can't escape this marriage. Can't run from what's coming. I'm going to tear her father's empire apart brick by bloody brick, and she's going to help me do it. Then I'll lock her away in this fortress's forgotten wing, let her rot in a cage less golden than daddy's mansion.
But first, she needs to read those words out loud. Shit, I'll even hear whatever bullshit story she must have told herself to sleep at night. Whatever lies make her feel innocent of my mother's blood.
Because I know what my mother whispered before she died.
Her name.
Isabella.
And the truth that's going to break us both.
She. Fucking. Killed. Her.
No matter what she says.
My mother knew exactly what world she was dancing in. Wasn't some evil stepmother from Isabella's precious fairy tales - she was a warrior who saw through Moretti's mask. The only one who ever tried to protect us both. Taught me piano to keep me safe, taught Isabella grace to give her armor. Did everything she could to give us both a shot at freedom.
And what did she get? Bruises. Broken bones. A bullet. A grave. All because daddy's perfect princess couldn't keep one fucking secret.
And Isabella's about to learn exactly what that lesson cost.