Dishonorable

“What?” I asked, stunned.

“What matters is what I decided after that day.”

Could he even hear me? I shuddered, suddenly chilled, and hugged my arms around myself.

“My thirst for revenge, my hatred for him, it overrode all else.”

“What did you decide?” I asked, my voice small. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t.

He finally looked down at me, and with his thumb, he wiped away a tear. I closed my eyes and leaned into his palm, at least for a moment, missing this. Missing how tender he could be, so opposite his violence. His burning rage.

I opened my eyes when he next spoke.

“I wonder if after I tell you, you’ll still think you love me.”

“Tell me.”

He caressed my cheek for a moment more, then drew his hand away. He wouldn’t let me hold it again.

“I was going to burn down the Guardia estate. Turn it to ash.”

I froze, staring up at him, at this stranger who, day after day, while he made love to me, plotted this destruction? This betrayal? This wouldn’t just impact me. It meant my sister’s inheritance too. Her birthright. Her future.

“You have no right.”

“I considered driving the company into the ground, at least with my half of it. But then he made that deal, and he thought he had me. But I’d rather have destroyed you than allow him to win. His losing was more important to me than you.”

I shook my head. “You keep saying was. You’re talking like it’s past.”

“It doesn’t matter. Don’t you see?”

“Raphael, what you thought then, what you wanted to do then, it doesn’t matter. It’s all changed. Everything has. What that man did to your mother…” I shook my head. “That’s nothing like us. You’re not a monster. And I love you.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Raphael

She thought she loved me.

Moriarty’s rage was real. His hatred for me, it was because I was my father’s son. He didn’t care about the money he felt he was owed. That didn’t matter. What he wanted was the decimation of my family. Because that was the only way he could have his revenge. Revenge against my mother for not having chosen him. Revenge against my father for being the one she had loved. The one she had chosen.

He wanted the house, the land, to destroy it.

I knew now he would stop at nothing. My life, it was forfeit. But hers? I couldn’t let him destroy her because of me.

I watched Sofia’s sweet face, her trusting, innocent, hopeful eyes. She believed she loved me. The thing was, the moment she’d said it, I’d known it too. I’d loved her for a long time now.

And that was exactly why I had to let her go.

I hardened my face and stood.

She remained kneeling at my feet.

“There’s just one problem, Sofia. I don’t love you.” How my voice carried the power it did, I had no idea. And when I saw her face as she processed my words, I had to steel my heart not to reach down and wrap my arms around her, hold her to me, tell her I was lying. That I did love her. Give her that truth I’d promised her she’d always have with me.

Because right now, I was a liar on top of everything else.

“I don’t love you,” I repeated.

“I don’t believe you.”

She sat back on her heels, her fingers closing around the clothes still strewn on the chapel floor.

“Well, believe it. I enjoyed taking what I took. I liked playing with you—for a time.” I shoved her away with my knee, got up, and walked a few steps to where the pieces of the broken crucifix lay on the floor. Bending, I picked them up, holding the image of Christ in my hand.

“Raphael.”

I turned to find her on her feet, buttoning her shorts up.

“You don’t mean it. I know you,” she said.

I laughed this strange, ugly sound. “You keep saying that. You really think you can ever know someone? Know what’s in their head?”

“I don’t care what’s in your head. That’s the point. I know what’s in your stupid heart.” Her face was all scrunched up, and her hands fisted at her sides. “You promised me truth, Raphael.”

“And I’m giving it to you.” I set the cross on the pew I’d abandoned and touched my own ring of thorns. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll call the attorney and set things in motion for the annulment.” I dragged the ring off my finger, watching blood streak down it as I did so, wanting the pain, needing it. Once it was off, I walked over to the altar and set it on the corner.

“Raphael, please…”

Her eyes were watery as she looked at the bloodied iron band.

“You don’t want—”

“I want this done as soon as possible,” I said, my voice hard.

She looked at me, flinching, almost startled.

“I want you out as soon as possible. I’ll make arrangements.” I walked to the door. “Let’s go.”