Page 8 of Secrets of the Brother
His very nearness made me quake with awareness.
My lower lip quivered as tears blurred my vision.
“Don’t do this to me, Enzo,” I whispered.
“Ask me,tesoro mio.”
My treasure.
White-hot anger flared inside me, fanning the flames of betrayal, at hearing one of his pet names for me. “Stop it! You don’t get to call me that. Not after what you did. Not after what you’ve done.”
My heart couldn’t take this.
I thought I was strong.
I thought I was over him.
I thought my bitter hate was enough of a shield, but it wasn’t.
My hatred for him had dissipated like smoke the moment his arm wrapped around my waist and I looked up into his vivid green eyes. Eyes that seemed to see deep within my soul and guess all my secrets.
Eyes that seemed to guess my darkest secret of all… that I still loved him.
Despite the betrayal, and the pain.
Defying all reason and sense of self-preservation, I loved him.
And I hate myself for it.
But it didn’t matter, I at least had enough self-respect to fight it with every fiber of my being.
I would rather be miserable and alone, clinging to a useless love, than crawl back to him.
He'd made his choice.
He'd chosen her over me.
Now we would both live with the consequences.
Her death hadn’t changed anything.
He leaned in closer. The pointed edge of the letter opener pierced the thin linen of his shirt. A tiny droplet of crimson blossomed through the crisp white fabric.
“Ask me, Bianca,” he ground out. “Ask me if I murdered Renata.”
I couldn’t.
I wanted to know.
I needed to know.
But the truth would destroy me.
There was no hope for us.
No future.
I knew that and was determined to stick by my decision to stay away from him… But somehow, the only way I could possibly live with the decision was if I allowed the tiniest bit of light into the darkness, the slimmest, faintest possibility of… maybe.
