Page 24 of Crowned in Sin
Her jaw tightens. “How about when I’ll be free to go?”
“What are you so eager to run back to,piccola?”
She goes back to her bowl. "Personal business."
“Personal business back at that house I found you in?” I ask.
“What’s it to you?”
I set my glass down. "You flew across an ocean in the middle of your best friend's wedding to go to that house."
"Andyoufollowed me across that ocean to it." She stabs her spoon towards me. "And left a corpse there."
"We both know if I hadn’t shown up.” I slam my palm on the table. “That corpse would’ve been the least of your worries!"
Lydia jumps at the sound. Her jaw tightens in silence, and her knuckles turn white around the spoon handle.
Are you your father, Nicolas?
“My point is,” I drop my voice to something that resembles even. “For better or for worse, we’re married. There shouldn’t be secrets between us.”
“Easy for you to say.” Candlelight flickers in her green eyes. “You still won’t tell me the truth of why you chose to marry me other than some cryptic statement about killing two birds with one stone.”
She’s not wrong. If I am to gain her trust, or at the very least find out what she’s doing at that house, then I have to offer her a shred of honesty in return.
"My father made a contract before he died," I say. "With a family who built their money selling women and children."
Lydia’s hand softens slightly around the spoon, but she doesn’t put it down just yet.
"And part of that contract required a marriage,” I continue. “Between their oldest daughter and my father’s only surviving heir. And as the new Don, I have no interest in tying my fate ormy Family’s fate to those monsters. I needed a way out, and I needed your silence. Marrying you accomplishes both."
She's quiet for a moment as she processes what I said, and then asks with unmistakable hurt in her voice. “So I’m just a fucking convenience for you?”
"There's nothing convenient about you,piccola."
Her shoulders slack at my words and the fight deflates from her. She looks down at her soup that’s starting to turn cold. Then, to my surprise, she slips her spoon in and takes a small sip.
Her expression changes again when she tastes it. And she takes several more spoonfuls before she looks back up at me. “The soup is very good.”
“Giorgia has an excellent recipe.” I pick up the wine again and sip at the light thaw between us.
Lydia nods and then continues to sip. After a few more spoonfuls, she starts talking again, but to the table instead of me.
“That house was my mother’s.” Her hands start shaking slightly. “She needed my help. That was why I left France.”
I tense as something hot and bitter pours into my veins. “What kind of help?”
"The kind that isn't yours to give."
"Tell me the problem," I say. "And I can make it go away."
Her gaze is heavy and angry. “This isn’t a problem you can kill your way out of.”
“Every problem is one I can kill my way out of.”
“Not. This. One.” Her voice drops to a pitch I haven't heard before. "So just leave it."
Like hell I will.
