The last time I saw him was at the funeral, but I was so out of it that I didn’t pay much attention. He’s similar to Matteo in height and facial features, and both are sporting a bit of scruff on their faces. But where Dominick is clean-cut, dressed in a suit with a slender but fit frame, Matteo gives off anI don’t give a fuckvibe with his simple T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes.
Looking at the brothers standing next to each other, I find itkind of ironic that my brother is best friends with Matteo when his look more resembles Dominick’s.
I guess the saying is true—opposites attract.
“I’m glad to see you’re okay,” Dominick says, his gaze descending my face, gliding over the bruise on my eye, and landing on my hand … which is still intertwined with Matteo’s.
I pull back, breaking the connection, and Matteo glances at me in confusion, which makes Dominick smirk for some reason.
“We should probably debrief in your office,” Dominick says to Matteo.
“Oh! I can make myself scarce. I need a shower and …” Shit! “I have no clothes.” And then it hits me. “I don’t have anything. Everything I own is at that cabin where you found me or the house Henry—or Enrique—whatever the hell his name is—bought or rented …”
Tears of frustration prick my eyes, and Matteo pulls me into his arms.
“I can’t believe I let this happen,” I cry into his chest, all of it suddenly becoming too much. “I let him in and married him. And he … he raped me,” I say out loud for the first time.
I texted it to Matteo before, but saying it makes it feel really freaking real.
My husband raped me.
I cry harder as I recall the last several months of him luring me in, gaining my trust, and then taking advantage of me, both physically and emotionally.
Matteo scoops me into his arms, once again proving how strong he is, and carries me somewhere. Now that the dam has burst, I can’t stop my sobs from coming.
“I don’t understand,” I cry into his chest as he sits us down and holds me in his arms. “I’ve never hurt anyone.”
I genuinely cared about him. I was mourning the loss of my parents, but I let him in and gave him the broken pieces of my heart,thinking he was going to fix it. But instead, he took those pieces and shattered them more, making it impossible to piece back together.
“This wasn’t about you,” Matteo murmurs, stroking my hair. “The guy is crazy. The lengths he went to in hopes of taking your family down—you never stood a chance against him.”
I understand what he’s saying, but I still feel so stupid.
“He knew I was the weakest link,” I sob. “He listened to me talk about my parents’ deaths, how devastated I was. He knew I?—”
“Wait.” Matteo pulls back and looks at me. “Your parents’ deaths …”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I told him they’d died in a fire.”
“No, back up. When did he show up?”
“Right after the holidays … January. Why?”
“And your dad, he changed his will right before his death …” He’s not asking. He’s telling me, but I’m not sure where he’s going with this.
“Holy shit.” His blue eyes widen. “Lorenzo thought your parents’ deaths were foul play, but we couldn’t prove it. We waited to see why someone had wanted them dead, but nobody ever came forward threatening or blackmailing him … using their deaths as a warning.
“Your dad had changed his will before he died, giving you access to forty-nine percent of the company.”
“Right …”
“And Michael was the attorney who handled it.”
“Oh my God,” I breathe out. “Enrique knew I would have access to the company, but only when my parents died.” That piece of shit! “He killed my parents.”
Matteo nods solemnly. “We don’t know for sure, but it makes sense. The moment your dad changed his will, Michael probably told Enrique, and he put his plan into motion.”
“And I just let him walk in and take it,” I mutter, sniffling back my cries.
