Page 62 of Secrets of the Brother
“Or you’ll what, Enzo? We’re in a church. There’s nothing you can do to me here.”
His lips lifted at the corners in a macabre semblance of a smile that didn’t reach his cold jade eyes. “Babygirl, you are seriously mistaken if you think God is going to save you from my wrath.”
I continued to back up, running my hand over the heavily varnished edges of the pews as a guide, keeping my frightened gaze on Enzo’s determined approach. “How dare Milana betray my confidence. She had no right to tell you what I said. The damage was already done. It changes nothing between us.”
His brow lowered. “She hadeveryright.”
My back struck a wide marble column. “Why? Because she’s a Cavalieri now? So she can do whatever she wants just like the rest of you?”
It wasn’t fair to be attacking Milana like this. I knew that. My reason for being angry was threadbare at best, but I was clinging to that meager strand with everything I had.
The walls I had placed between Enzo and me had already crumbled.
I was weak and vulnerable against his slightest attack to my heart. I had to use every weapon at my disposal, or I’d be lost.
Before I could move around the column, Enzo caged me in. “No, because your sister tried to kill her.”
I blinked, not sure I'd heard him correctly. “That can’t be true.”
He leaned in close. “A few days before your sister’s murder, the woman you were so quick to call adeceitful bitchwas locked in a wine cave and ruthlessly starved of oxygen byyour sister. My brother barely found her in time. She came extremely close to dying. Despite that, she greeted you with grace and warmth yesterday. She deserves none of your vitriol.”
I was too stunned to speak. More secrets.
Was this why my parents refused to discuss her death?
Wait… a few days before my sister’s murder?
I licked my dry lips. “You saidbefore, was that why—”
He ran the backs of his knuckles down my cheek, then covered my lips with his fingertips. “Don’t even say it.”
To any passersby the gesture would look like a gentle, romantic caress.
I knew better.
I kept my mouth closed.
He breathed heavily as he glared down at me. “My answer hasn’t changed. I didn’t kill your sister. Neither did my brother. I’ve told you before, your family got involved with some dangerous people, and it got your sister killed.”
His gaze traveled from my mouth to my eyes and back.
He then gripped my upper arm and moved us away from the column. “That’s what happens when you manipulate people’s lives,” he said suggestively.
He marched me toward a dark recess of the church, toward a wall of heavily varnished walnut cabinet chambers.
The confessionals.
“I didn’t know. I swear. I only found out a few days ago.”
Enzo reached past me and swung open a narrow door before pushing me inside the dimly lit priest’s confessional.
It was a narrow space barely big enough for two people.
The varying dark chocolate and honeyed tones of the walnut-grain cabinet had an ethereal glow from the recessed lighting above the doorway. At the back of the cabinet-like space was a deep bench topped with a purple velvet cushion where the priest usually sat during confession.
Enzo released his grip and placed his palms on either side of the wall. He loomed over me. “Kneel on the bench.”
I swallowed. “Enzo—”
