Itdoesbreak on that final plea, and the liquid swimming in my eyes spills over, trickling down my cheeks as I inhale. “I…,”
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.
But nothing comes out as he scans me with those green eyes. He has always seen me. But now, he looks at me as if he’s trying to see past the Caterina hethoughthe knew. As if he has realized that maybe he never knew me at all.
As if we are strangers, he and I.
And that thought hurts.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
But my lips don’t move as I stare at him blindly. My tears soak into his hands as he cradles my face, his dark brows drawing down in agony.
He rips his hands away, and I brace for it. For the judgement. The anger – all of it, deserved, for the truth I kept from him, all this time.
You kept her from me.
You lied to me.
I deserve his censure. Because I didn’t tell him. Didn’t tell him when I found out, didn’ttrusthim. Instead, I ran to my father rather than trust the man who should have been my enemy, and that single decision has cost us both more than I can ever voice.
His harsh breathing fills the car as he grabs my hand. Dante untangles my clenched fingers and pushes something into them.
I blink away the moisture blurring my vision as I look down, smoothing the image with trembling fingers.
And I stare at it for long minutes. As my shaking increases, as drops of liquid land on the picture of the little girl grinning at me.
His voice is thick, as his hand returns to my face. He traces my cheek with the tips of his fingers, smoothing away the tears.
“Look,” he whispers finally. His voice is low. Emotional, as Dante V’Arezzo and I face the truth together at last. As he forces me to face the truth of us, and of her. “Look what we made,tentazione. Look how beautiful she is.”
My sob breaks out, and he keeps talking. Keeps breaking me, ripping down all of the defences that I spent months building against him, one by one as they collapse like dominos.
All that time, always fighting to keep them up, even when he wouldn’t let me go.
“Look at our daughter,” he whispers. “She has your curls, and my eyes, Caterina Corvo. She’sperfect.”
My throat is burning with the force of my tears as I grip that photograph.
“And she’ssafe.” Fierce words as he grips me. “Youdid that, Cat. You kept her safe. You did everything you could, and now she’s safe. Luc got her out, but you kept her safe.”
My whole body crumples, but Dante catches me. His arms wrap around me as I bury my face in his neck. His hand slides into my hair, holding me tightly as I let it all out.
The words tear from my throat, rasping and hoarse. “I should have told you.”
“Yes.” He knows what I mean. “You stubborn,infuriatingwoman.”
I suck in a breath – possibly of agreement – but he’s not done.
“Iunderstand, Cat.” I don’t argue when he reaches to undo my belt, when he pulls me down and twists us so I’m positioned on his lap on the floor, his arms tight around me.
My fingers dig into his wrists where he holds me as I listen, let him say everything he needs to.
“I know why you wouldn’t have told me at first. Butafter, Cat, after you came back – when we were building this,you should have told me. We should have faced it together, you and I. You chose to do it alone rather than trust me to stand by you. I didn’t understand why you always kept me at a distance, always pushed me away, always kept thatdamn wall up, and now I know. And I’m furious with you.”
There’s hurt there. Hurt that I caused.
