Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Angelo always has.
Beneath that barbed wire exterior, I have to believe there’s still a part of him that feels. He’s lost his mother, his father, and now his brother. His anger is justified, but what he describes is a fate worse than death.
“You should have just killed me too,” I whisper, silent tears streaking down my face.
“Come now, Abella.” His thumb grazes my cheek. “Do you think I’d let you off that easy?”
“What you describe isn’t a marriage.”
“No, it’s not.” He brushes my tears away. “It’s penance. You can accept it, or we go to war. Those are your options.”
My eyes fall shut on a ragged exhalation. I’m exhausted, sad, and slightly drunk. But I know there is a third option, if I really wanted to consider it. The truth could set me free.
Except, if I had any sense, I would have told him before I took my vows. What can be done about it now? It would only blow another shotgun-sized hole through both of us. We have enough of those already. The reality is, when I saw him standing at the end of the aisle, I was too selfish to do the right thing. I didn’t want him to set me free. Not when it took everything I had in me to walk away the first time.
Logically, I know there’s only one way out of this. I can’t stay. But I can’t bring myself to leave just yet either. I need more time before I implode my entire life.
In the meantime, I’ll have to guard my heart.
Against my better judgment, I find myself nodding my concession. I’ll give it a month.
Thirty days of penance.
“Use your words.” There’s an edge of irritation in his tone that makes me open my eyes.
When I look up at him, his entire body has gone rigid. Angelo isn’t a man who has to wait for responses. But I don’t think that’s what this is.
Or maybe I really am just a fool.
“Yes,” I answer. “I agree.”
“Good.” A shallow breath leaves him. “I’ll give you a few days to cry about my spineless prick of a brother. Then I never want to hear his name from your lips again.”
He turns to go, but freezes at the next words out of my mouth.
“I am sorry, Angelo.”
He tilts his head, his face in profile like he can’t even stomach the thought of looking at me right now.
“For what?” he grits out. “What exactly is it that you’re sorry for? My mother’s death? My father’s? Matteo? Or is it something else you’re thinking of? Perhaps your botched attempt at destroying my life? How many sins do you have to atone for?”
I nod silently to myself. It doesn’t matter what I say or do. The truth is, I’m sorry for all of it. The pain I’ve already caused him and the betrayal still to come. The agony of knowing I’ll never be what he needs. But I can’t tell him that now. What’s the point?
“It’s late.” He turns his back, heading for the dock. “The crew is waiting for us.”
I trail behind him, my attention lingering on the hard, unforgiving lines of his body. For so many years, he was my protector. My solace. The one person I trusted more than any other. I hate that I still long for that part of him when he’s proven it no longer lives. The worst part is I can’t even fault him for it.
He’s the monster I made.
As I make my walk of shame, I tell myself it could always be worse. I could be Matteo.
At the end of the dock, Angelo crosses the passerelle to the most impressive yacht in port. Its gleaming white hull sparkles under the moonlight, and I stop short when I read the name on the stern.
Dolcezza.
My eyes drift shut as the memory slams into me. It was one of the summers our families spent along the Mediterranean. Angelo and I were on the beach as the sun was setting over the horizon. Waves from the shoreline lapped against our feet, the warm breeze a gentle caress on my skin. I was looking out over the water when it entered my mind.
Dolcezza. It was the only way to describe that perfect moment in time. After I said it, Angelo echoed my thoughts, but he wasn’t looking at the water. He was looking at me. I knew then that it didn’t matter where we were or what was happening around us. I was his sweetness.
When I open my eyes again, his are on me. Dark and stormy, without a hint that he remembers that day. But then, why would he? Now, his sweetness is this. A palatial vessel with shimmering white surfaces, floor-to-ceiling glass, and a crew waiting in formation to serve his every need.
I offer them a nervous smile as I take off my shoes and walk across to the stewardess waiting to collect them.