Page 51 of Violent Pawn

The bed jostles, and he’s then standing beside it, a glow filling the room. A glow revealing tears streaked down my face. A glow I need dulled so he doesn’t see any other version of me but the one projected to the world—the strong Elite, not a broken woman.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper because it’s on me to say. All my fault. He has nothing to apologize for. It’s all me. Me and my fucked-up past.

Sorry for showing you my nightmares.

Sorry for not warning you.

“You have noth—cara mia…Anastasia…I didn’t mean to.”

“You did nothing wrong.” Gathering my cell from where it slid halfway beneath the pillow overnight—and then my guts that are spilled wide open for him and my emotions shattered across the bed, and then, oh, my dignity, I slide off the bed and reach for my dress. “Let’s never mention this again. It’s fine.”

“Sure,” he whispers, but as I pass, he stops me with a hand to my lower stomach. “Only after I say one more thing. Whoever hurt you better be six feet under. If he’s not, point me in the right direction, and I’ll see it done. Anyone who didn’t respect your choices doesn’t deserve the respect of oxygen.”

With that ever-crumbling dignity in hand and a fresh wave of hatred for my father, I escape to the bathroom.

26

NERO

Christmas morning should smell like freshly baked goods, hot cocoa, and joy.

Mine smells like gingerbread wrapped in a woman I’m quickly growing obsessed with. Who continues to invade my thoughts.

Of course, I fucked it up. Whatever happened years ago creeps into bed between us, and instead of continuing to build her trust, I’ve shattered what little I’ve gained.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, and if Padre notices the difference in her demeanour, he doesn’t point it out. She thanks him for the pancakes and locally grown fruit and then we’re back in the car, on our way to Zeno’s.

“She’s a sweet girl,” Padre whispered in my ear during his hug goodbye. “Be good to her.”

The trip passes in near silence, this time while I drive. She hugs herself and scoots against the door, which only sparks worsening agitation. It felt like I was finally getting through to her, and one small fucking mistake because she felt so right, so good, I incorrectly assumed she’d accept my touch.

Only when I park in front of the villa does she unfold her body, preparing to leave and probably not look at me for the remainder of her trip. Hand on the door, she pauses. “It wasn’t your fault, so stop treating me differently. You’ve hardly spoken to me all morning, and I realize I haven’t been doing a great job either, but please, Nero…don’t look at me differently. I’m not glass to be broken and pieced back together. It’s happened, and I’ve already rebuilt myself.”

I doubt it’s the entire truth, but not wanting to push, I simply nod and quickly get out of the vehicle to help her out. She lifts to her feet, pressing between me and the car. The same concern as this morning flickers before she shields it behind her usual smirk.

“Thanks for coming with me. That was fun. We should hang out more often.”

“Or never again.” Her nose wrinkles, but it’s without the usual venom. “Hold me at gunpoint, then maybe.”

“Don’t tempt me. I may take you up on that offer.” Positioning my arm, I offer it to her to prove that, despite earlier, I’m the same man she’s been getting to know. That I’m still worthy of her trust, and when she slides her arm between mine after only a moment’s hesitation, I’ve succeeded.

I lead her inside the decorated villa, where both Veles and Venus jump on us. Anastasia disentangles herself from me with a glance and skitters deeper into the house. Instead of following how I long to, I cut to the kitchen for a drink.

For once, drinking isn’t tainted with Zeno-coloured shame, but a different shade. The kind with the softest blond hair and spitfire eyes which reflected horror and pain earlier. Trauma of some kind.

Hello, friend. I pull down my preferred brand of bourbon.

It’s where Zeno finds me moments later, skipping his typical lecture on drinking and healthy habits. “You really took her to your padre’s?”

I shrug. “Figured she could do with the break from this place.”

“That’s all?” He moves up beside the counter, where I’ve started to pour a drink from the bottle. Only because my original plan of chugging straight from the bottle will open the door for his speeches, and we’re doing so well without.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She used to look at you like dirt on her shoe, and I know you enjoy a challenge. Is that what she is to you?”