“What?” she demanded. “You would have done things differently? You would have spared me the humiliation? What did you get out of this, Marco? If not amusement, then what? Sebastian told me about the trades, about Cillian’s will?—”
“I made sure those were in your name. Everything Cillian had is yours. It wasn’t about the money,” I insisted quietly, desperate for her to understand. “Not for me.”
“Then what the hell was it about?”
I hesitated, struggling against the truth pressing insistently against my throat. I didn’t want to tell her. I couldn’t.
“I understand if you want nothing more to do with me after tonight,” I forced myself to say. “And I won’t stop you. We can remain married on paper, or I can give you money of my own—enough to ensure you’ll never have to worry again. But Valentina, please know it was never my intention to hurt you.”
I saw her confusion, the questions racing behind her eyes as she stepped closer.
“I don’t want your money, Marco,” she said, forcing my eyes to meet hers. “I don’t want your pity or your guilt. I want honesty. Why did you marry me?”
I fought the truth.
“Say it,” she pressed. “Tell me it wasn’t because you felt sorry for me. Tell me it wasn’t some twisted penance for what you did.”
I drew a ragged breath, heart pounding hard. “Valentina, don’t ask me?—”
“No,” she interrupted. “Tell me it was because you wanted me. Tell me it was because you cared.”
“It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t charity. Is that what you want to hear?”
She stepped even closer, her eyes locked on mine, demanding more. I saw the desperation behind her stubborn determination, mirroring my own.
“I want a full answer for once,” she argued. “Donotmake me walk out of that door, Marco. Not after asking for your honesty.”
Something about the threat of her leaving snapped the last of my resistance. “Fine,” I bit out, the truth tearing free despite myself. “I care. Damn you, Valentina. I care. I have always cared. From the moment you walked into my life and decided to fight me on every goddamn thing. I cared every time you defied me, every time you pushed, every time you forced me to see you as more than just another responsibility. I cared when I told myself not to, when I forced myself to keep you at a distance, when I pretended you meant nothing to me.”
Her breath hitched visibly, her eyes wide and searching mine as if she were trying to discern sincerity from manipulation.
“You say you care.Fine,” she whispered, vulnerability coloring her voice. “But caring can mean a thousand different things. People care about stray animals and cold weather. People care about keeping their shoes clean.”
“Valentina, that’s not?—”
“Oh no,” she cut me off. “You donotget to avoid this. Not tonight. You’ve told me you care, and now I’m asking you a direct question—one you owe me an honest answer to.”
“Why?” I demanded, fear tightening my voice. “So you can use it against me later? So you can throw it back in my face when you finally realize this—whatever it is—is a mistake?”
“So I know I’m not alone in this,” she said gently. “Because I’m tired of feeling like a fool every time I let myself believe this means something to you. I need to hear it, Marco, because right now, I’m standing here feeling completely alone and terrified, and I need to know you’re just as terrified as I am.”
“You want the truth?” I finally ground out, feeling exposed, vulnerable, and angry with myself.
“Yes! Why on earth would I still?—?”
“I love you,” I finally admitted gently. “God damn it, I love you, Valentina. Is that what you want to hear? Does it satisfy you to know I’ve been reduced to this? To this complete, unbearable madness?”
She didn’t move. She watched me like she was waiting for the rest of it.
I hated that I had more to give. I hated that the words didn’t stop there; that the dam had broken and I couldn’t shove it all back down.
“I didn’t plan it,” I said, pacing now as if I were confessing to a crime. “I didn’t want it.Jesus, I’ve spent my entire goddamn life making sure I didn’t need anyone, and then you walked in with your mouth and your goddamn questions, and suddenly, I’m thinking about you when I shouldn’t be. I’m making decisions with you in mind. I’m letting you stay. I’m letting you in.”
I turned to look at her. “And I don’t do that. I don’t let people in. Because every time I do, they leave. Every single one of them.So yeah, maybe I married you out of guilt at first. Maybe I told myself that. Because guilt I could handle. Guilt I understood. But this? Whatever the hell this is? You? I don’t know how to surviveyou.”
I ran a hand over my face, exhaling hard. “I don’t know how to survive wanting someone this badly. Needing them. Needingyou.”
I turned to face her again, my chest aching, every nerve exposed. “I didn’t fall in love with you the way people say it happens. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was inconvenient and loud and brutal. It was terrifying. You got under my skin like a splinter, and every time I tried to ignore it, you pushed deeper. And I let you.” My voice dropped, quiet now. “I let you in.”
