Tears build now and flow down my cheeks. I ball my fists and turn away. I’m so fucking tired of crying. It’s the only thing I seem to do well.
“Valentina,” he snaps.
Of course, he’s expecting my attention, my obedience, but I can’t give it to him. Not in this, not yet at least. We need more time to solidify things…springing this on him would only make it worse.
I’m shaking, and I wrap my arms around my middle as if I can keep myself in one piece by sheer force of will alone. “Can you accept that I’ll tell you the truth, but just not now?” I whisper. “I promise to tell you everything but give me a little time to get my bearings.”
It’s stupid because asking him for mercy is like asking the ocean to stop beating at the shoreline.
“Valentina,” he says again, his voice no less of a lightning strike against my skin for the softer tone.
I try to pull away some more, put the width of our very large bed between us, but he doesn’t allow it. His hands are on my arms, dragging me back across the sheets toward him before my feet hit the floor on the other side of the bed.
“I told you before, you won’t run from me. You won’t leave me. And you won’t shut me out…in any way,” he says as his fingers dig into my biceps.
I barely get a second, and I’m tucked into his lap. My legs go around his hips before I can even think about how bad of an idea it is.
“You don’t get to push me away…not when I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’ve held up this end of our deal, and now it’s your turn. You belong to me,” he hisses. “You are mine and only mine. To protect, to keep, to give away if I so choose. Remember that, Angel. You are mine. Keep pushing me, and I’ll be sure to show you the depths of the ownerships I’ve purchased in blood.”
I swallow hard and tuck my chin. “What do you want from me?”
His fingers lift my face to force our gazes together. “Everything, Valentina Doubeck, everything…and then when you think you’ve given over every inch of yourself, I’ll show you how much more you have to give. How much more I have to take.”
I blink at the force of his words. And the way his voice breaks on the end like he is barely holding himself together.
Even under threat, my body molds to his perfectly, as if I were always meant to be right here, aligned against him. Fit together like two pieces of a cracked and ruined whole.
He slides his hands around to my back, his fingers splaying wide to clutch me tighter against him. At least in this position, he can’t do much to harm the baby or me. Not without warning. It has to be enough.
“I’m not sure where to start,” I whisper, my voice growing stronger with each word. “The beginning is further back than you probably think.”
“Take your time. Neither of us has anywhere to be. Tell me everything,” he ordered. And his tone is nothing less than a dictate. One I have no choice but to obey.
I try not to fidget as I begin. “When I was small, life wasn’t so bad. I mean…when my mother was alive. Things at home weren’t awful. Even my father wasn’t the awful man you knew him to be. But everything changed when she died. It was like her death sucked the humanity out of him. Worse, he blamed me for her death even though I’d been caught in the blast as well. I only survived because she shoved me under a piece of furniture to be rescued by the fire department. The moment they handed me over to my father afterward, I knew he would have traded my life for hers in a heartbeat.”
This part isn’t so hard to confess. It’s not a secret my father hated me. He’s known it since we met, and it’s not hard to review the facts of my life.
“Go on,” he prompts.
I shift in his lap, but he drags his hands down to my ass to press my hips into his harder. Not a position that works well for focus. “Anyway, he lost her, and I lost everything. From that moment on, the only family I had was Rose. Her mother died alongside mine, and she came to live with us since her father was already dead too. But that part doesn’t apply to this.”
“This? What’s this?”
I take in a long breath and blow it out. “Do you remember the story I told you about helping my father kill a woman? When I confessed my sins, you absolved me…saying I was nothing more than a child and can’t be held liable for my father’s sins.”
He swallows hard and nods, no doubt seeing the pattern of things now. At the very least catching a glimpse of what I’m going to confess to him next.
“I’ve blamed myself for that woman’s death every day since I realized what it meant. You were the first person to tell me it wasn’t my fault. I value that…”
“Valentina…” he warns, his jaw clenching tight. “Get on with it and stop dicking around. Say it.”
My hands shake as I pull them into my chest. Not that I’ll be able to protect myself if he lashes out. “That day I went into your office looking for you. What I found was the answer to a question I’ve been asking myself for years. Who was the woman that day? Who had I helped my father murder?”
His eyes bore into mine, the depth unimaginable. I can’t look away. I can’t breathe. I can’t think…not until I get the rest of my confession out.
“So now you know why I ran. I’m the one who killed your mother. I’m the one who left you to your father’s cruel abuse…It’s all my fault.”
12
ADRIAN
It’s like every fear and failure and nightmare comes spewing out of her pretty little mouth all at once. She says she’s sorry enough times that it’s all she’s mumbling now through tear-soaked lashes and worry-worn lips.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I’m so sorry.”
If she apologizes one more time, I’m going to lose my shit. I gently ease her off my lap and climb off the bed… needing the distance.
In my head, of course, she was a child and innocent of the crimes she confessed. But as a son and a man who misses his mother every single day, it’s so fucking hard to hear.
She’s looking at me for reassurance, or explanation maybe. I can’t give her that. I can only turn away and survey the broken fixtures littering the room. A fitting environment, considering how utterly destroyed I am now, too.
Fuck. Can we come back from this?
I can't even look at her. The thought makes me want to rage all over again. And this time, the storm might not spare her.
“Adrian?” Her voice is whisper soft, another contrast to my own roiling emotions. It hurts even more because she uses my name. She never says my name unless I ask her to… or coax her into it.
I don’t turn around for fear of harming her or saying something I’ll regret later. “Don’t. Stay over there, and I’ll try to talk about this with you again later.”
Her gasp echoes in my head so much louder than her shocked inhale.
Thankfully, she doesn’t utter another word, and I march out of the room, my feet rolling over broken glass. Just to get free.
With nowhere else to go, I head straight for my office. There is a spare closet with some extra clothes. At the very least, I can shove on a pair of pants. Clothing will help if I need to put even more distance between Val and me.