Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
The woman I loved had been terrorized by my worst enemy, but he was finally dead. He would never touch her again. He would never hurt my family.
Chapter 13
Evelyn
“Talk to me, farfallina,” Massimo urged, cuddling me against him in our bed.
“I’m okay,” I promised, crushing my residual fear and horror into a tight ball and shoving it deep into my chest. “The doctor said I’m fine. Barely a scratch on me. You’re the one with bruised ribs.”
He frowned down at me. “Don’t do that with me.”
I blinked at him. “Do what?”
“Lie to us both. You don’t have to pretend to be okay. I don’t want you to hide your feelings in an attempt to spare me from worry. I want to know all of your emotions, even the darker ones. Nothing you say will make me abandon you.”
My throat tightened. How could he see me so clearly? He peered straight into my soul, understanding me in a way I hardly even knew myself.
For years, I’d hidden my more distressing emotions. I’d made myself small because I didn’t want to be difficult. I was afraid people would rebuke me for it like my mother, or worse, that they would abandon me like my father. George had never noticed how I concealed my darker emotions from him to make his life easier. Or maybe he had noticed, but he’d allowed me to diminish myself.
And now he was dead. George had been shot in that basement. He’d tried to save me from torture, but not from death. He’d come to Italy with the intention of seeing me killed so that I couldn’t pose a threat to his corrupt career.
My stomach churned at the memory of his bloody chest, but I didn’t feel sorrow over his death. I wouldn’t mourn the man who’d betrayed me in the worst way.
“You can be vulnerable with me,” Massimo cajoled. “I want you to be yourself when we’re together, even if that means talking about difficult things. You don’t have to shoulder those burdens on your own anymore. Trust me to share them with you.”
My heart swelled with love for him, and I snuggled closer to his hard chest, breathing him in.
“I was so scared,” I admitted on a shaky whisper. “I thought they were going to kill you.”
He stroked my hair. “I was scared too. I’ve never felt fear like that. Rocco hurt you, and I had to watch.” His features hardened to granite. “It will never happen again.”
A light shiver raced through me before I could stop it.
No, it wouldn’t happen again. Because the man who’d killed his parents, Rocco, was dead. Massimo had beaten and strangled him. I’d squeezed my eyes shut tight for most of it, but I’d seen enough of the violence to disturb me.
“I’m sorry you saw that,” he rumbled, his voice rough with regret.
I brushed a reassuring kiss over his taut lips. “You protected me. You saved us both. I will never like the violence, Massimo, but I understand. I’m not afraid of you.”
He blew out a shaky breath. “If I could make sure that you will never feel fear again, I would. But I swear I will do everything in my power to prevent it.”
“I know. I trust you.” I kissed him again, then asked, “How are you feeling? That man, Rocco, he killed your parents, didn’t he? You must’ve hated him for a long time.”
His eyes searched mine, and he was silent for a long moment. I wasn’t sure if he was puzzling through his own complicated feelings or if he was trying to put them into words that wouldn’t upset me. I met his gaze with an open heart, waiting for him to speak his truth. I would accept anything he said, even if it might be disturbing. I accepted all of him, and I would prove it to him every day, just as he’d proven himself to me so many times.
“Yes,” he finally said quietly. “I hated him. I still do. I’m not sure if that hatred will ever fade, but at least I have the peace of knowing he’ll never hurt anyone else. Their deaths have been avenged.” He shook his head. “But I don’t feel any different. They’re still gone. And it will always be my fault.”
I trailed my fingers through his dark curls, careful not to press the tender spot where he’d been hit. He leaned into my touch and closed his eyes briefly, as though he was savoring the tender contact.
“Rocco took them from you,” I said gently. “He’s responsible. You were just a boy in a difficult situation. You have to forgive yourself.”
His eyes flashed with silver fire. “I don’t know if I can.”
He’d carried the weight of responsibility for their deaths for so many years that he didn’t know how to live without it.