Something in me snaps.
“Who exactly is too far gone to be saved? Are you talking about Lucian’s wife? The woman he signed his entire empire over to? It’s all in her name now.”
Isabella flinches, but I don’t stop.
“Or maybe you mean Cassian’s wife? The one the paparazzi won’t stop trailing because he’s on a personal mission to buy out every diamond in New York just to see them on her skin? Or Enzo’s girl? She’s glowing. She looks like she’s floating on cloud nine.”
“You don’t understand the price,” Isabella stammers.
“Your sons may be monsters to the world,” I bite out, “but they are not monsters to their women. They are nothing like the man who did those things to you. They didn’t become their father. They became the men who would have killed him to protect you, if you’d only let them.”
I look at her, at the raw, ugly shame etched into the lines of her face.
“You got married.You moved on. Why do you have to remind Valerio that he’s a beast every time he starts to feel like a man?”
“Because if they’re not monsters… thenIwas. Do you realize the burden of that? Of realizing that you’ve turned into an abuser?”
The honesty of it is revolting. She hopes that her children are as broken as she is so she doesn’t have to feel alone in the dark.
“They weren’t monsters,” I hiss, “and they did survive. Despite you and their father. Now, let him go. Stop hurting him.”
I’ve never felt this protective of anyone. How I wish I could time travel to when he was a kid and save him from all the people that let him down.
I stand up to leave, but Isabella’s fingers sink into my forearm, her grip surprisingly strong for someone who looks like she’s made of glass. “Wait. Please. Sit down.”
I glance down at her hand, then past her shoulder. I catch her making a subtle signal to a dark SUV idling at the curb. My blood runs cold… my survival instincts firing up.
“I’m just telling my husband everything is okay,” she sighs. “Please, Charlotte. Just a moment longer.”
I sit, but I don’t relax. I’m a coiled spring. I know she wouldn’t dare do anything in public, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not on high alert.
“Lucian was the only one I wanted. I thought having him would change James for the better.” She confesses. “The others… Valerio, Cassian, Enzo… I didn’t want them. He used to tie me to the bedposts and leave me there for hours after he raped me so I wouldn’t ‘spill’ his heirs.”
This is horrifying. But it’s a classic case of the abused turned into the abuser.
“Isabella—“
“He was jealous of them,” she cuts me off. “He wouldn’t let me hold Valerio for two weeks after he was born. By the time he let me touch him, I was gone. I was dissociating so hard I couldn’t even feel the weight of him in my arms.”
Her eyes search mine. “Tell me about them. Truly. Not the headlines.”
Now she wants to know? After failing them over and over and over again. Yes, I feel sympathy for her, but a little bit of anger too. She hurt them.
I don’t sugarcoat it. “They’re cold, Isabella. They’re mean. They’re terrifyingly efficient at what they do.” I pause for a moment. “But they are not him. They worship their women.”
Isabella breaks. She starts sobbing—ugly, racking sounds that draw eyes. People are staring, whispering into their lattes.
Suddenly, the air behind me changes. A man, easily six-foot-five, steps out from the back of the cafe. He doesn’t say a word to me. He places a massive hand on Isabella’s back, rubbing it.
“Come on, my love,” he says. “It’s time for us to leave.”
Through her tears, Isabella looks up at him with a devotion that makes my skin crawl. She gives him a lingering peck on the lips. She mutters a choked “thank you” to me before the man practically hauls her to her feet, his arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her entire weight as they head for the door.
My mouth is literally hanging open.
The man’s face. It was the exact replica of the late James Morelli. He’s taller, and his eyes are a slightly different shade of blue.
It’s Arthur Morelli. The brother James supposedly scrubbed from the family history. The one who disappeared decades ago.
