The Prodigal Prince's Seduction (Castaldini Crown 2)

Another verdict was as glaring. He might never know the true causes of his mother’s decline and death, but whatever those diaries contained, something else must have caused her to write them. His father was no cold-blooded abuser. Thinking otherwise had poisoned him for five long years. But the heart that had led him to loving Gabrielle would never lie to him. His father, while guilty of many things, had never been guilty of hurting his mother.

He not only owed Gabrielle a lifetime of apologies, he owed his father, too.

“…but instead of exonerating your father,” Gabrielle was going on, “I must have only added manipulating us to his offenses, in your opinion. Or rather, manipulating you, because I’ve been in on it, with the worst possible agenda, of course. So why not get on with your revenge? End your father’s reign in humiliation, take the crown from him, take my company from me, throw me out on the street and leave me the hell alone.”

“That was my rage talking,” he insisted, urgency writhing in his chest. “I would never have carried out my threats.”

“Really? So cancelling the wedding, telling the world why—”

“I told no one anything. And far from taking your company away, I’m here to give you these.” He flicked open his briefcase, handed her a dossier. When she didn’t take it, he explained. “These papers ensure that neither I nor anyone else can take your company away, that it will always be stable no matter what happens to any market in the world. And that’s just the beginning. Make any demands. I’ll do anything for you. Anything, Gabrielle. My father knew me, and you, too well—he knew we were made for each other. He did what he had to do, to bring us together, a debt I can never repay.”

“So you won’t dethrone him?”

“I was raving mad with shock when I said that. The moment I came to my senses, there was no question in my mind about your innocence.”

“Sure. Until the next time something rouses your suspicions, and you turn on me and maul me to death.”

“That is never going to happen again.”

“I’ve heard that before, Durante. From Ed. Every time he abused me, he’d say it would never happen again.”

“I’m nothing like him. Don’t, Dio, please don’t…don’t put me in the same thought as him, amore.”

“You’re worse than him.” Her sob sliced into his brain, its agony, its import, insupportable. “I cared nothing for him. His abuse cut nowhere beyond the surface. Yours carved me to the marrow.”

Her agony flooded his chest, became molten lead coursing through his left arm like the onset of a heart attack. He wished it would truly damage him. But self-abuse was self-indulgent. He needed to be at his fittest to undo what he’d done.

He wrestled with paralysis, surged forward to embrace her. She struggled like a cornered animal. He was distressing her more.

He staggered back, rasped, “I followed in my father’s footsteps—this genetic compulsion we once spoke about—to the point that I suspected the worst of you, the keeper of my soul, and cast you away, as he’d done with your mother. But he let her stay away, compounded his mistake by marrying for the crown, and made a mess of so many lives. But I’m done being my father’s son. I’m walking my own path from now on and I’m repeating no one’s mistakes, starting with my own. Give me one last chance, Gabrielle. I’ll never ask for anything more. I’ll make amends, until the end of my days.”

Tears no longer flowed from her eyes. She was no longer shaking as if she’d unravel, no longer breathing as if her throat were swelling closed.

Dared he hope…?

“Words are cheap, Durante.” Her voice was steady, lifeless. “To you, everything is cheap. You can throw companies and fortunes at me, but the one thing I want is what you’ve failed twice to give me. The benefit of the doubt. Fair treatment. I once said, when you were as generous with superlatives, that ‘never’ has forever scope. I should have waited and seen.

“I thought at the beginning that I could handle it, if you were offering something simple and superficial, like no-strings sex. But you weren’t, and even though I told you I wasn’t in your league, I let you sweep me away, into all those powerful emotions and bottomless passions, let you seduce me into wanting—and expecting—too much, way too soon. I was right to be wary of your rash proposal, and again too weak to heed my wariness. I own my mistakes—whether it was falling into your arms then believing we could have forever, or abiding by a promise of secrecy, not only because I couldn’t break my word, but because I feared for the fool’s gold perfection of what I thought I had with you.

“Whatever you feel for me, it’s not enough to overcome everything it has against it. You might think now that it’s ‘until the end of your days,’ but give yourself, say, a month or two. And a woman or two. I bet you’ll forget about me. Or maybe, when all the illusions have dissipated and nothing but desire remains, you’ll walk back into my life like your father walked back into my mother’s and be my part-time lover, too. If you’re still single, that is. Whatever happens, the dream, the grand and unique and indestructible love, the guaranteed forever, is over. You ended it. And from where I’m standing, it’s better this way.”

He had no idea how he remained on his feet.

He’d thought he’d known how much he’d hurt her. Until she’d hurt him back. Caused him irreparable damage just by giving him a good look at her wound. He knew now. He also understood. Why his father had lost so much of himself when his lover had been suffering, why he’d almost died when she had.

He had broken her trust. Not just in his ability to always treat her with restraint and respect, but in the depth and constancy of not only his feelings but his character. More pledges now would mean nothing. Worse than nothing. His amends had to be undeniable, until she believed him and in him again.

And if she couldn’t? If this was irreversible?

He laid the dossier on her desk, leaned burning palms and trained blind-with-tears eyes on it. He couldn’t consider this. Not if he wanted to remain alive to see his plan through.

“Non rinuncerò mai ad amarti. Sono tuo per sempre.”

I will never give up loving you. I’m yours forever.

His only indication that the words that had scraped their longing into his mind had actually left his lips was the lurch that shook her, the two wet trails that spilled down her haunted face. He filled his soul and senses with one last look at her, a sight that would fuel him during the desolation of being without her. Then he turned and walked away.