“You’re asking for my approval. My permission.” I shake my head. “And I can’t give that to you. Not with this. I won’t stop you—I know I couldn’t even if I tried. But I can’t participate in it. I can’t consent to it.”
Raffaele is silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he pulls me against him, so carefully, so gently that fresh tears spring to my eyes. “This is why I love you,” he murmurs against my hair. “This goodness in you that somehow survived everything.”
I close my eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, finding comfort in his solid presence even as we reach this impasse. I won’t pretend to accept what he plans to do. He won’t pretend he won’t do it. We’re at a stalemate of values, of core identities.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against his chest. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you need in this.”
His arms tighten around me fractionally. “You are exactly what I need, Alina. In every way.” He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze. “Your heart is what saved you. What saved us both. I would never ask you to compromise that, even for me.”
The yacht rocks beneath us, carrying us steadily toward a confrontation I’m not ready for but can’t avoid. I don’t know howto reconcile the sister I loved with the woman who wanted me dead.
I don’t know how to face her knowing what happens after Raffaele is done questioning her.
But as I rest against my husband’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, I realize there’s one thing I do know with absolute certainty. Whatever happens when we reach Cleveland, Raffaele and I will face it together.
Not always in agreement, but always united. Always a team.
Chapter 49
Alina
After three days of sailing followed by another two in the car, we’re back in Cleveland, walking through Raffaele’s front door.
My cast-bound arm hangs heavy at my side, a reminder of everything that’s changed since I last stood in this foyer. The scent of lemon polish and fresh flowers washes over me, strangely comforting despite the knowledge of what waits for me in the basement.
My sister. The woman who wanted me dead. But before I face that particular demon, there’s someone else I need to see first.
A blur of black fur streaks across the polished floor, accompanied by a frantic meow that shatters the mansion’ssolemn quiet. My knees buckle instinctively, my good arm reaching out as Onyx launches himself toward me.
“Oh my God,” I gasp as his weight hits my chest. My injuries protest, but I couldn’t care less about the pain. “Oh, baby, I missed you.”
I drop to my knees, cradling him as best I can with one arm. He’s heavier than I remember, his body vibrating with purrs so powerful I can feel them through my entire chest. His eyes stare into mine with an intensity that breaks something loose inside me—the last wall I’ve been holding up since leaving the island.
Tears spill down my cheeks as I bury my face in his soft fur, breathing in his familiar scent. I clutch him closer, careful not to squeeze too hard.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” I whisper against his ear. He responds by rubbing his face against mine, his whiskers tickling my tear-stained cheeks.
“He’s been impossible,” Susan says, appearing from the direction of the kitchen. Her voice is warm with affection as she watches our reunion. “Wouldn’t eat for three days after you left. Then he decided to make up for lost time.”
I look up at her through blurry eyes, still holding Onyx tight against me. “Thank you for taking care of him.”
She waves away my thanks with a flour-dusted hand. “That little troublemaker has been sleeping on your pillow every night. And I may have slipped him a few extra treats to fatten him up.” Her expression softens as she looks at me, really looks at me, taking in the changes. “It’s good to have you home, Mrs. Brewer-Russo.”
“Susan,” Raffaele’s voice is soft but commanding. “A moment?”
She nods, giving me one last gentle smile before following Raffaele, leaving me alone with Onyx in the grand entryway. I struggle to my feet, wincing as my body protests the movement.
With Onyx nestled securely against my chest, I wander through the main floor of the mansion. Each room feels both familiar and strange, like revisiting a place from a dream. My baby purrs contentedly in my arms, occasionally stretching up to lick my chin.
My feet carry me to the library almost of their own accord. The room that became my refuge during those early days of captivity.
I settle into one of the chairs, adjusting Onyx in my lap so his weight doesn’t press on my cast. He kneads my thighs with his paws, staring up at me with an expression that seems to ask where I’ve been all this time.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I say, stroking his fur.
The quiet of the library envelops me like a blanket. Here, in this cocoon of books and silence, I can almost pretend that nothing has changed. That I don’t know my sister’s chained in the basement below my feet. That she didn’t conspire to have me killed.
Onyx meows softly, head-butting my hand when I pause in my petting. Always demanding, always insistent on his right to my attention. I smile despite everything, scratching under his chin the way he likes.
