Another cry escaped her soul. “You’ll never be that.” A noise sounded from somewhere in the apartment and she jumped.
“The kitchen,” he murmured, moving towards it. Belatedly Kate recalled the water she’d left simmering. When they entered, a small amount had bubbled out from under the lid and was flaming the fire of the cooktop. He flicked it off and lifted the pan from the heat and turned to face her. As if for the first time he noted her apron and fought the smile that was tingling on his lips.
“You cooked?”
“Yes.” Her eyes were loaded with pain. Strange now that he didn’t see Augustine in them at all; he saw only Kate. “But it’s my father’s recipe, so I doubt you’ll want to eat it.” She rubbed her hands together and then shook her head. Hopelessness was a pit all around her. “That’s the problem. I am his child. I am his daughter. He is my father. So much of who I am is because of him.” She reached around and untied the apron with fingers that shook. “And you hate him so much. How could I ever have hoped you’d care for me?”
“It is not you, Kate. None of this has anything to do with you.”
She arched her brows. “You don’t think? Cause I feel pretty much in the middle of it all.”
He nodded, but internally he was rejecting everything she thought and felt. “You were just a means to an end at first; a way to hurt him. And as soon as we slept together, I regretted it.”
He had regretted it, and she had been on cloud nine. Grief was rushing over her. “I hate you right now. Do you get that?”
“That is probably for the best. You’ll get over this faster if you hate me.” He propped his hip against the bench. “But you are stuck with me for a while longer, I’m afraid.”
She stared at him in confusion. “Why?”
“You can’t go anywhere. Not now.”
“Wrong. I’m leaving you, I’m leaving my father. I’m getting out of here.”
“Augustine saw you tonight for the first time in years and attacked you. Do you really think anything will lead him to stop? Do you think he’ll let you go because I just kicked him out of my house?”
She opened her mouth to speak but slammed it shut again. Doubts plagued her. “I … he doesn’t … I don’t know.”
“He has powerful friends, Kate. He’s a powerful, connected, completely immoral bastard. And I cannot let you go knowing the kind of danger I have put you in.”
“He hates you, not me. I’m in more danger here with you,” she whispered.
“That’s a lie, and you know it. He has hurt you. Again and again. How many times did he hit you? How many times did he pull you by your hair as I saw him do just now?”
“Screw you,” she shouted, holding her hands up to her ears. “Just stop it!”
“Your inability to talk about it does not change the reality of this situation,” he muttered grimly. “Sit down.” He nodded to a stool and Kate stared at it as though funnel webs had started crawling up the legs.
“I want to go.”
“Go where?” He pushed, his eyes loaded with sorrow as he studied her crestfallen face.
Kate shook her head. She was numb. “Anywhere. Benedetto … this is … this is all I was to you?”
He shook his head slowly and now, finally, he put his hands on her shoulders. When she might have flinched away from him, he rubbed her arms, until he reached her hands. He grasped them in his and squeezed her fingers. “You have seen how my father lived. You have felt the beauty of the life he created. You can imagine what prison was like for him.”
Kate flinched and pulled out of his grip, taking a vital step away from him. “Awful. I can understand how that must have been terrible for him.” She frowned and dipped her head forward. “My dad wouldn’t … I can’t believe he’s capable of this.”
Benedetto felt anger surge in him; he quelled it for Kate’s sake. She had seen enough anger. She had been on the receiving end of more vitriol than she ever should have experienced.
“I know it to be fact, Kate. But right now, I do not think his actions to my father are what matter.”
“Of course they matter,” she disputed harshly. “They’re the reason we’re here. The only reason we met.” She stared up at him, stricken. “How did you find me? How did you know I would be at the charity event?”
“I didn’t. It was sheer luck, if you can believe it.”
Now, she sunk into the chair, and the shaking was almost unbearable. Her knees knocked together violently. “Not luck for me,” she muttered, pressing her palms into her eyes. It drew Benedetto’s attention to her wrist and he swore silently. “I wasn’t even meant to be part of it.” Kate’s words were so soft Benedetto almost didn’t catch them.
“No?” He prompted, crossing to the kettle and flicking it to life.
