Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
PRIEST
I t was my first true deep kiss. Ever. And when I tasted the softness of my wife’s full lips, I knew I was lost to her. She’d taken hold of my very being, and I welcomed it.
I’d thought I could keep her separate from my mess, in a box of her own, but it was quickly becoming apparent that she’d already burrowed beneath my skin.
As I gathered my wits and began to accept how utterly lost I was for this woman, I understood there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. I’d fight her demons, be her shoulder to cry on, and protect her secrets.
With a single kiss upon her lips, I knew I’d hold on with both hands.
Juliette’s face appeared in the periphery of my mind and I tried to push it away, but I couldn’t shake the guilt of protecting her and Dante’s secret, one whose consequences I worried would be too great for Ivy to recover from. Slowly but surely, it ate at my black soul.
“I have a surprise for you.” I frowned, pulled from my thoughts as my attention slid down to Ivy’s face against my chest. We had another few hours before we’d land in Rome.
“Huh?”
“Father Gabriel,” she said quietly.
It hit me like a ton of bricks, the memories of that fucker and the things he’d done to me making me want to roar. Break something. Scrub myself clean.
“What about him?” I asked, my voice cold. Detached.
“He was a principal of St. Gabriel’s school in Chicago, wasn’t he?” That fucking man stole my life. “He’s a cardinal now.”
I remained silent for a long time while the panic began to take root in my chest. I sucked in slow breaths, trying to will away the sickening images of what I endured.
No .
I wouldn’t let him win. I’d come too far, burying the night terrors somewhere deep where only the Grim Reaper ruled.
“I’m sure those red robes match the stains on his soul,” I stated matter-of-factly.
The look in her hazel eyes was filled with concern. The telltale signs of sorrow washed over her features—the furrow of her brows or chewing of her bottom lip. If I wasn’t mistaken, this woman cared for me. Deeply.
“He hurt you.” Her voice softened. “He hurt others too. He should pay so you can get peace.”
She… understands.
“And you want to deliver him to me?”
She clutched my elbow harshly, but the pain didn’t register.
“Yes.” Her voice was a low, furious murmur and it hit me like a freight train. She understood me.
“And it doesn’t bother you?” I asked instead.
Her brows furrowed.
“ Bother me?” Her voice was almost undignified. She released a breath and I allowed a small smile to curve my lips. “I want to murder him for you.”
“I hear a woman's wrath is a dangerous thing,” I remarked, trying to calm the beast roaring inside of me.
Her arms squeezed around me. “It can be,” Ivy whispered. “If you prefer I take care of him, I?—”
“No.” The thought of that sick bastard anywhere near her made me want to tear the world apart. “You’re not to go near him.”
Ivy stiffened and I looked away, my eyes stabbing out the airplane window, seeing nothing but clouds. She was innocent and pure. Father Gabriel was an incurable disease, one that needed to be carved out, and I wouldn’t be exposing Ivy to him.
“How did you guess?” I questioned. When I told her about the day Dante and I burned our house down, I didn’t mention the abuse I’d endured at the principal’s hand.
“It was something about the way you mentioned Father Gabriel. Your mind went somewhere dark, lonely, and it set the wheels in motion.” She swallowed, meeting my eyes. “I’ve seen it before.”
“Did someone hurt you, angel?” My hold on her tightened.
She shook her head. “No, not me. Someone else. Someone close to me. But that’s not my story to tell.”
Relief hit me hard, and I loosened my hold on her, the darkness receding a bit.
“I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone. My whole story.”
Ivy looked up at me, and I saw nothing but patience. So, I took a deep breath and began.
“My mother hated my guts. It wasn’t until I learned Aisling Brennan was my real mother that I finally understood why.” She nodded with compassion. “Not that that explained her hate for Dante.”
“Maybe he reminded her of his father,” she offered sagely.
“Probably.” I rolled my jaw, grateful she was giving me the space to continue.
“Christian, she was an evil person,” she whispered softly, her expression sad. “There is no point in trying to understand a person with that much hate inside.”
She lowered her mouth, softly kissing my chest, each kiss easing the pain inside me. Maybe she was the cure I’d needed all along.
“I was eight when it started.” I sighed. She needed—deserved—to know this.
“When your mother’s abuse started, or … what Father Gabriel did?”
“Oh, Vittoria’s physical abuse started much earlier.” I growled. “This was when it started at school, the only place I felt any kind of peace. He took that from me.”
Her face went white as she visibly gulped, then choked on a sob. “Oh, Christian.”
My arms tightened around her. “Vittoria gave him permission to do what it took to make me ‘behave.’ She gave him fucking carte blanche.” Hot tears wet my chest. “They told me if I uttered a single word to anyone, they’d kill me. Dante, my father… the only people I still loved,” I said quietly. “It went on for years. Until the night Dante and I put a stop to everything.”
Ivy’s soothing, healing touch made my soul ache less.
“So what you told me was the end.” I nodded. “Or maybe it was the beginning for you. Because you took some control back by giving that foul woman what she deserved.”
“You were right though,” I said slowly. “It became an unhealthy way to deal with what had been done to me. And to Dante.”
Ivy shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m no expert, but I’m glad she suffered. And I hope Father Gabriel suffers too.”
“If there is a God, he must have sent me you,” I growled, cupping her face as our eyes locked. “Maybe it’s his way of remedying what he let Vittoria and Father Gabriel get away with for so long.”
Her eyes searched mine, her graceful fingers stroking my skin, easing the pain. Healing me.
I looked away, fear gripping my chest. “Promise me you’ll never leave me,” I rasped.
Her soft palm came to my cheek, pulling my gaze back to hers.
“Of course I’ll never leave you.” Her lips tipped up slightly. “Besides, for better or for worse, we’re stuck together. Married, remember?”
“Even though I’m broken?”
“You’re not broken,” she whispered, pressing her lips softly to mine. It was hard to believe I’d ever had an aversion to intimacy. It was as if, overnight—literally—she’d put me back together again and made it so her touch was a balm rather than a punishment. “Life was cruel to you, and it made you who you are. Beautiful. Justified. Vengeful. But only toward people who deserve it.” Her eyes captured mine. “You’re put together differently due to the circumstances life threw at you, but you’re no less perfect.”
I stroked her hair back from her face, brushing my knuckles against her soft skin. She was healing me without even realizing it.