Dishonorable

“Yeah, yeah.”

We walked into the lobby of the hotel, and Lina went to check the bathroom. She emerged with a smile on her face a minute later.

“Got it.”

“You’re lucky. Let’s go.” Grandfather had said he had meetings the rest of the day, so I didn’t expect to see him and was grateful I didn’t. But then, just on our way out of the hotel, I heard his voice. We both did and stopped. He was speaking with someone, and the other man laughed. Something told me to hide. I dragged Lina into an alcove and signaled for her to be quiet. From our hiding place, we watched my grandfather and the strange man who’d come to the wedding the night before walk into the lobby. They both looked serious and not quite friendly, but when the man held out his hand and my grandfather shook it, I felt a chill run down my spine.

“We have to go,” I said once the men had gone.

“What is it? Who was that? He was at the house last night too.”

I shook my head, confused myself, questioning my loyalties. My grandfather had just shaken hands with my husband’s enemy.

Chapter Sixteen

Raphael

By the time I got home, it was well past midnight. I went directly to my room, not sure if she’d have done as she’d been told or not, but there she was, asleep in my bed. She was still dressed and on top of the sheets. Her arm hung over the side, and a book lay facedown on the floor.

She must have been waiting up for me. Or trying to.

I watched her for a few minutes. She wore white shorts and a yellow tank top, and long wisps of chestnut hair had fallen all over her back and arm. Her legs had tanned a little, and looking at her bare feet turned in a little at the toes, it made her look like a child. Like she needed protection.

And she did.

More than she knew.

I touched her face. She made a sound and turned away, still asleep. I picked up her book. When Nietsche Wept. I raised my eyebrows.

“Interesting choice.”

After setting her bookmark in the page that was open, I placed it on the nightstand, then sat on the bed and pushed the hair off her face to look at her.

She wore no makeup and slept so soundly. I couldn’t remember ever sleeping like that. Nightmares had ruled my childhood and carried well into my adulthood. Always evolving while at the same time, always staying the same. I was envious of Sofia. I didn’t begrudge her. I was simply envious of her.

She rolled over onto her back at that moment, her arms falling open on either side of her. She wore no bra, and her tank top stretched across her chest, emphasizing the small, round mounds, the dark nipples. Her short shorts showed off her nicely toned legs. I sat on the bed beside her and, feeling a little like a creep, I undid her shorts. When she didn’t stir, I dragged them down off her legs. She wore pale pink lace panties. My cock was hard at the sight of it, at the little triangle of dark hair just beneath the lace.

Clearing my throat, I adjusted my cock and stood.

“Sofia,” I said softly.

Nothing.

“Sofia.”

Again, no response. The girl could sleep.

Lifting her to sit up, I pulled her tank top over her head. At that, she stirred, blinking several times, giving me a half smile, then closing her eyes again. I smiled back, stupidly, knowing she couldn’t see me. She was asleep.

I drew the sheets back and lay her down and slid her panties off as well, liking her naked in my bed. Liking looking at her. A moment later, I forced myself to cover her again, then went into the bathroom to shower and climbed into bed beside her.

“I’m in your bed,” she muttered, rolling toward me and throwing her arm over me. “Like you said.”

“I see that.”

But she was out again. I wrapped an arm around her, holding her close to me. Did I feel guilt over what I would do to her, to her sister? I would destroy Guardia Winery to punish her grandfather. I knew it meant I would destroy her in the process. I had no doubt my promise not to leave her on the street didn’t absolve me.

How ironic, how parallel our lives seemed. How strangely the same. Our paths didn’t merely cross. They moved along exactly the same path. What her grandfather had precipitated, the loss that had killed my mother, I would repeat it. I would repeat history knowingly. I would set fire to the Guardia lands. Obliterate the vineyard and the Guardia name.

I fell asleep to these thoughts running through my mind, and the nightmare I’d had a thousand times before was different this time. I knew it by the way it began, knew it as I choked on the smoke, trying in vain to reach her, knowing I’d be too late.