Atonement (Master's Protege 2)

“You never told me. If you’d only told me…”

“You would’ve run from me.”

“You don’t know that!” Now, I see the anger. Now, I feel it. She stands, but I quickly tug her back down so she doesn’t run. We have to talk this out.

“I don’t, but I know you well enough to know that vulnerability scares the living hell out of you. I knew I had to show you that you could trust me.”

“By lying to me?” She laughs mirthlessly. “Tell me how that works?”

“God, babe, no. By showing you I was a man who had your best interest in mind.”

“And in your mind, stalking me, luring me here, and acting like I was a perfect stranger the first day we met was somehow the right thing to do?”

My phone rings, but I silence it.

“Go ahead. Take it,” she says, looking away. “I need a minute.”

“No.”

She looks at me and purses her lips. “Suit yourself.”

“Listen to me, Violet.”

“That’s all I’ve done is listen.” Her arms are wound across her chest as if to wall herself off from me. As if she wants to ensure I don’t touch her.

“So when Armand got into that accident with me… it wasn’t an accident at all? You put him up to it? How, Cain?”

I blow out a breath and go for broke. “You’re the kind of woman who values independence. You need to know that things are on your terms.”

“So you thought it best, in that omniscient mind of yours, to make those decisions for me? Oh, I get it now. Lovely.”

She blinks, and a tear rolls down her cheek. Fuck.

Fuck.

“I knew I could help you. I knew you’d want me to. But I had to make sure you were doing things on your terms.”

“Cain, how could I ever trust you again after this?” She stands and shakes her head. I reach for her, but she bats my hand away.

“I deserve this,” I tell her honestly. Jesus, I deserve this and so much fucking more. I wish she’d yell at me, or hit me, or throw something at me for fuck’s sake. I wish she’d slap me or even come at me and fight, which she absolutely could do. She hasn’t really, other than the little spat with the cudgels, since that first day she attacked me and I warned her never to try to fight me again. I wouldn’t defend myself, though. I’d let her hurt me and know I deserved more than whatever the fuck she gave me. “Sorry seems so futile, babe.”

“Don’t call me that,” she says, and when her voice wobbles a little, my heart breaks. I’ve done her wrong, and I’m paying the price. I’d give up my goddamn kingdom to erase the hurt in her eyes. I’d give up damn near anything.

“Violet—” I reach for her, but she throws her hand up, palm facing me.

“No, Mr. Master. I’m Miss Price to you. I came here for your help in finding my parents’ murderer, and now we’re on the cusp of a breakthrough. We’ll finish this job.” Her voice is cold and distant, as hollow as an empty shell. “And then we’re over. I can’t be with a man I can’t trust.” Her voice breaks, and fresh tears spill down her cheeks. “You were the only one I thought I could.”

I expected her anger. I even half-expected her to react like this, hurt and distant and angry. But a part of me hoped we could talk it through. That she’d forgive me. That we had enough trust between us that we could work through anything.

My phone rings again, the only sound in the soundproof target range. I look at this place that holds so many memories for us. It’s become the place of our trysts, the place that belongs to just the two of us. The others rarely even come here anymore, since they know it’s sacred to us. In seconds, I take in everything that has meaning in here, unsure of what to say or how to respond.

“You should answer that, Mr. Master,” she says in that same cold, distant voice I don’t ever want to hear again. “It could be important.”

I yank the phone out of my pocket and see Joe’s name. “Yeah?” It isn’t his fault everything’s gone to shit, but I’m pissed that anyone’s got the nerve to interrupt me right now. My sun has disappeared, leaving me in bleak, cold darkness.

I put the phone on speaker so Violet hears.

“Boss, you gotta move. The Rossis leave this afternoon for their home in Tuscany and won’t be back for another month.”

I curse, gripping my phone so hard my fingers hurt. “When do they leave?”

“Two hours. Skylar’s waiting by the truck. She’s rigged up, and we’ve got you on surveillance. Anything they say or do will be recorded. Go now, and Henri will fill you in on what you need to know on the way.”