Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
“No!” My reply was immediate and vehement, drawn from my soul before I could mull it over. “It’s just… I have a hard time accepting these gifts from you. They make me uncomfortable.”
Some of the darkness ebbed from his eyes, and he placed the jewelry box back on the nightstand without closing it. The diamonds continued to wink at me, taunting me. I kept my attention on him.
He stepped toward me, closing the small distance I’d created between us. His big hand cupped my cheek, his thumb hooking beneath my jaw to capture my face in his gentle grip.
“Who made you feel unworthy?” Despite the careful way he handled me, his voice was rough with anger.
I drew in a shuddering breath. How could he see me so clearly? I’d spent years with George, and he’d never asked about my stepfather’s financial abuse.
An awful realization budded at the back of my mind. George had never commented on it, but I had told him about my childhood. And once we’d graduated college and started working, he’d made subtle comments about our contributions to the budget. He’d had the final say on how we spent our funds because he’d earned more than I did.
My eyes stung as another layer of his betrayal dawned on me. He’d taken one of my most vulnerable secrets and used it against me. He’d known that I feared taking more than I earned, and he’d leveraged that to curtail my financial choices.
Massimo brushed a tear from my cheek before it could fall. His muscles rippled with the force of his suppressed rage.
“Who are these tears for?” he demanded.
I swallowed against the lump in my throat. I owed him an explanation. Massimo had been hurt by my implication that he was giving me gifts to control me. He was a proud man, and he’d clawed his way up from nothing. He’d quite literally fought for every penny, and now he was wealthy.
He might be able to see into my soul, but I saw into his as well. He wanted to show off that wealth because it meant power.
Untouchable. Everything he’d ever done was to ensure his safety and security. Signs of his wealth adorning me would provide me with security as well. No one would dare to touch me if they knew I belonged to Massimo.
“My stepfather was well-off,” I began my admission quietly, not knowing exactly where to begin. “Not rich, but he had a job that paid well enough to keep our family in a nice neighborhood. We took a vacation once a year, and he sent my stepsister, Rachel, and me to private school.”
Massimo’s features pinched with puzzlement. “I’m not trying to replace your father.”
“He’s not my father,” I snapped, the old wound causing me to lash out. I took a breath to calm myself and continued. “My biological father left when I was four. I barely remember him.” The few memories I did have—ice cream and playgrounds and birthday cake—further muddled my complicated feelings about the man who’d abandoned me as a child and never looked back.
“My mother struggled to support us,” I pressed on. “She worked two jobs waiting tables to keep a roof over our heads and some food on the table. She resented the burden of another mouth to feed, and she blamed me for my father leaving us. She said I was a difficult child, and that was why he didn’t stay.”
Massimo’s jaw ticked, and he stroked my hair, silently urging me to continue despite his mounting anger.
“When I was nine, she met my stepfather. She hid the fact of my existence from him until they were engaged.” I’d spent so many nights alone in our ramshackle apartment, making my own crude dinners and tucking myself into bed. She’d claimed she was dating him to help us escape poverty, and I couldn’t complain about that.
I’d learned at a young age never to complain. If I made myself small and quiet, no one would get upset with me. I wouldn’t be rebuked if I didn’t cause any trouble.
“You said you had a stepsister,” Massimo gently prompted. “He already had a child of his own. Why would your mother need to hide your existence?”
I shrugged. “She didn’t want to scare my stepfather off with the burden of another child. By the time they were engaged, they were committed enough for her to introduce us. They married, and we moved into a big house as a new family. My mother doted on Rachel, treating her as her own daughter. My stepfather didn’t feel the same about me. He’d never wanted me; I was baggage from my mom’s past relationship.” Over time, Rachel became their daughter. I was set apart, a pariah in my childhood home.
“He was a fool,” Massimo growled. “Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life.”