My stomach turned. “And you didn’t think I deserved to know that? What happens if I have your child, Raffaele? Will you let them be next?”
His eyes darkened, and the bond surged with anguish and anger that mirrored my own. “I would never let that happen.”
I scoffed and crossed my arms over my chest. “Forgive me if I don’t take you at your word. You’ve given me no reason to trust you.”
Raffaele stood and rounded his desk. “You want to know why I didn’t tell you?” He stopped in front of me, his shadows curling at his feet like restless predators. “You have no fucking idea the hell I’ve been through.”
I met his gaze, refusing to back down. “Enlighten me.”
He exhaled sharply, his shoulders taut with tension. “This isn’t exactly something I enjoy fucking talking about, but if you must know, when I turned eighteen, I underwent an initiation ritual. It was designed to bind me to my role as the heir to my father’s legacy. It wasn’t symbolic. It was a blood bond, a dark enchantment that ensured my absolute loyalty. It also passed down the powers from my ancestors, the same powers they killed their own family members to obtain.
“That bond isn’t just about loyalty,” he continued, his voice colder now. “It’s a leash. It keeps me tied to my father, to his rules, to his vision for our family. And it’s why I can’t afford to trust anyone—not even you. I can’t change my own destiny until my father is out of the picture.”
I wanted to stay angry, to cling to the righteous fury that had driven me here, but his words cracked something inside me. “What about before that?” I asked, my voice softer now. “Before the ritual? Were you always this…” I searched for the right word and settled on, “detached?”
His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t have a childhood, Vivian. Not a real one. My father made sure of that. As soon as I could walk, I was groomed to take his place. Emotions were considered weaknesses. Vulnerability was punishable. I learned quickly that caring for someone only gave my father a weapon to use against me.”
I swallowed hard, my anger giving way to sympathy. “And your other sister?” I asked, remembering the fleeting mention of her in the book. “What happened to her?”
His expression tightened, pain flashing in his eyes. “Giulia…” He trailed off, his shadows flaring briefly before receding. “She was the only person who ever cared for me, who saw me as more than what my father wanted me to be. She was light in a place that had none.”
“What happened to her?” I pressed, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
“She disappeared when I was sixteen. My father claimed she ran away, but I never believed him. I think…” He clenched his hands into fists. “I think he sacrificed her to preserve our power.”
The admission hit me like a blow, and I instinctively reached for his arm. The bond pulsed between us, his grief and guiltcrashing into me. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. The words were inadequate, but I didn’t know what else to say.
Raffaele looked at me then, his usual mask of indifference slipping away. “She was just a girl,” he said, his voice breaking. “She loved her dolls, played pranks on me every chance she got. She was everything I wasn’t allowed to be—happy.”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away. “She sounds wonderful.”
He nodded, a weak smile tugging at his lips. “She was. And I’ll never forgive myself for not protecting her.” Slowly, he walked back to his desk and took a seat.
That unimaginable pain and loss had shaped him, made him who he was. Without it, he might not have been the cold, ruthless man who had forced me into this life.
But it didn’t erase the questions still burning in my mind. “You could have told me, Raffaele,” I said quietly. “About all of this. I would have… done something… helped you.”
His gaze hardened again, his walls rebuilding themselves in an instant. “What exactly would you have done? Besides, I can’t really afford to trust anyone, Vivian.”
“Then don’t expect it from me.”
My emotions were a tangled mess of anger, pity, and something I refused to name, and I knew he could feel every bit of it.
Likewise, Raffaele’s pain rippled through me like a stone cast into still water, spreading outward until it consumed me. His agony, his conflict between the monster his father wanted him to be and the man he might have become, tugged at my heart.
Before I could second-guess myself, I moved around the desk and stopped at his side. He sat slouched in the high-backed chair, his head tilted downward, fingers loosely tangled in his lap.
I reached out hesitantly, my hand brushing over his. He flinched at the contact, his body stiffening as though he’d been caught off guard. For a moment, I thought he might pull away. But then his fingers curled, intertwining with mine. His grip was strong yet unsteady, and the connection felt as charged as the air before a storm.
He exhaled deeply. “I should have told you. Given you a choice.”
I squeezed his hand, unsure whether I was trying to reassure him or myself. “Yeah, you should have,” I said softly, my words edged with truth but free of venom. “If I’d known…”
“You wouldn’t have agreed,” he interrupted, his gaze lifting to meet mine. His eyes, so often dark and unreadable, were now filled with regret. “I didn’t think I deserved the chance to explain my family’s history, not when I was forcing this life on you.”
My throat tightened at his admission. I didn’t know what surprised me more—the rare apology or the vulnerability in his voice. “Maybe you didn’t,” I said quietly, refusing to sugarcoat the truth. “But if this”—I gestured vaguely between us, encompassing the bond, the marriage, the chaos we were entrenched in—“whatever we are… is going to be successful in the least, you have to start communicating with me and helping me understand the intricacies of your world.”
I tamped down the guilt that twisted my heart. I was expecting things from him that I was not willing to give. I was keeping so much from him. Things that affected him greatly.
