Page 7 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
“I’m sorry,” she breathes.
I release her and step back. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You think I wanted to marry, Enrique? The man is a monster.”
“I tried to save you from him so many times, Adelina. Now look at you.” I focus on each bruise on her face. “And you still haven’t won. Now you’re up against the entire Bianchi family who will want your head. When does it end?”
“My father was killed, and I was thrown into the middle of something I had no say in. So, I either lay down and become a victim, or I keep fighting. What other choice do I have, Sasha? Please tell me.”
“I was a choice. I would have protected you from all of them.”
“So, protect me now.”
“I…” My fists clench. I can’t do this with her again. “I can’t.” I shove past her and walk out of the room, refusing to look back.
3
Adelina Adelina Adelina Adelina
I take a minute to compose myself. That did not go as I thought, and yet, I suspected Sasha may not welcome me with open arms. It was only days ago that he tracked me halfway across the world in a last bid to stop me from marrying the enemy. We had sex, shared what I thought was something special, and then I rejected him for the last time.
I think I knew then, there was no coming back. At the time, I was so focused on killing Enrique and reaching my end goal that I pushed it aside, a problem for later, for the future. Sasha and I were once bound, even if that bond was false, built on a foundation of lies and murder. Whatever tentative affection he had for me is clearly hanging on by a thread. He doesn’t know that I’m aware of the circumstances of my father’s death. Though maybe he suspects. I would if I were him. After all, it was Enrique who contracted him, Enrique who knows the sordid details.
This is no longer a case of manipulation. I need to make him fall in love with me again. I have to seduce my father’s killer and not for the first time. I thought I’d feel nothing but contempt for Sasha, and I do, but it’s not as simple as I predicted. It’s as though he’s a blinking holograph, flickering between the man who killed my father and the one who protected me, who I fell in love with. I’m squinting, trying desperately to focus on the murderer, but I can’t.
On a deep breath, I leave the living room and make my way through hallways I know well until I reach Nero’s office. Time for the back-up plan. War.
I knock.
“Come in,” he shouts from the other side.
I open the door and find Nero sitting at his desk. Eyes the exact same color as brandy meet mine, and a breath trickles through his lips. I can’t help but wonder if he also knows what Sasha did. How deep does the betrayal run here?
“Adelina. I heard it was you who crashed a car outside my gate.”
“Sorry about that.”
His eyes narrow, and he gestures to the seat in front of him. “Sit.”
I do, and he watches me silently.
“You want to know why I’m here,” I say.
The distrust is like a glowing beacon in his eyes. Nero Verdi didn’t get where he is without being cautious. “Is Enrique Bianchi dead?”
“Yes.” I hold his gaze, refusing to look away in case he sees the lie. I’m not looking to help Enrique. I’m on no one’s side but my own now. I’m not lying to forward his agenda, but Nero will never believe that I got away from Enrique without killing him.
“How did you do it?”
I have to tread carefully, tiptoe around his suspicion. “I stabbed him in the neck with Una’s blade.” I can’t control what Enrique does, and I don’t trust him. I need plausible deniability should he decide to betray me later. Plus, at some point, I really do need to kill him. This leaves me with an out. He could have died, he could have survived.
“It begs the question, how are you still alive?” He raises one dark brow, his lips pressing together and making the severe angles of his face even harder.
“I escaped.”
“I can see that. How?” Distrust is etched into every chiseled plane of his face.
My mind races through the story I rehearsed in my mind before I arrived. “The morning after the wedding, everyone was hungover. I didn’t sleep.” I allow my mind to drift, to remember the feel of Enrique violating me. I hope Nero will see the trace of horror through my indifference, but the memory is coupled with a strange void of emotion. “The caterers came to clean up early. I took some cash from Enrique’s bedside drawer and managed to slip into one of their catering trucks. I know a guy who does passports. Got the first flight out of Sicily and came straight here.”
