Vendetta

I swallowed hard, hoping my voice wouldn’t crack. “OK — I’ll come down.”

 

 

I flicked on the bedroom light and unearthed a pink cardigan from the floor, wrapping it around me before skirting downstairs. When I reached the backyard, Nic was standing at the back of the garden in the dark, waiting for me.

 

The light flickered back on as I walked toward him. His expression was inscrutable, his gaze fixed on me.

 

“Hi,” I said, reaching him. I cradled myself, waiting, as the darkness enveloped us.

 

“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here,” he said.

 

“Among other things.” I didn’t look at him directly. There was too much guilt inside me and if I looked him in the eyes, I knew it would explode right out of me.

 

“I had to make sure you were OK. Luca told me what happened …” He trailed off, then cursed under his breath. “And I didn’t want to leave things like this, not the way my brother made them. He was wrong to say that stuff to you, Sophie.”

 

I chewed on my lip until it stung. “I’m not sure what else there is to say.”

 

“Will you at least look at me?” He inched forward until I could see his feet.

 

I shook my head, keeping my attention fixed on the grass. There were too many emotions bubbling inside me. I had to keep it together or else I would lose it entirely. I had to focus.

 

“Sophie, please …”

 

“I can’t.” My throat bobbed up and down. I shut my eyes to stop the tears, but I could feel them welling up, ready to fall. I didn’t have enough resolve to hold it all in, not anymore.

 

“Why not?” he murmured.

 

“How can I look at you knowing what I know now?” I lifted my chin and stared at his chest.

 

“Sophie …”

 

“I visited my dad today,” I continued shakily. “I know he killed your father. I know that’s why you hate me.”

 

Nic reached out and pressed his index finger under my chin, nudging it softly until I lifted my head and met his eyes.

 

And then the dam that had been holding my tears for as long as I could remember burst completely. They fell hard and fast down my cheeks, shaking my body with every heave as my breathing hitched, gasping out for air.

 

Everything I had suppressed — my father’s incarceration, my mother’s pain, Jack’s desertion, the Falcones’ disdain for me, and my burning desire for Nic — was bound up in those heavy tears as they fell away from my face and rolled down my neck. I sank to the ground and pulled my body into a ball, hunching over and cradling my head in my hands as I wept uncontrollably for the first time since my father’s arrest, not caring about anything but the pain that was springing free from my body at last.

 

In an instant, Nic was beside me, curling my huddled body into his and enveloping me in his arms until he was all around me. He rested his head on mine and whispered into my hair, “Please don’t cry, Sophie. Please don’t cry.”

 

He held me for a long time, until the rage of tears subsided into quiet streams, and I began to catch my breath again. Then he guided my head into his chest and I buried it in his neck, inhaling his scent.

 

“How could you not hate me?” I mumbled into his skin. “You’d be inhuman not to look at me and see what my father did.”

 

He stroked the back of my hair, his words soft against it. “It’s not like that, I promise.”

 

“He didn’t mean it, Nic. It was an accident,” I sobbed quietly. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

 

“I know,” he whispered. “Please don’t cry.”

 

“I’m sorry.” My words were so garbled I could barely understand them.

 

“You don’t have to apologize.”

 

“Yes, I do. Luca said —”

 

“Look at me … Please just look at me.”

 

Slowly I raised my head, which was dizzy and heavy all at once. He wiped the wetness from my cheeks.

 

“Listen to me, Sophie. I want to be very clear about this. Luca had no business saying whatever he said to you. It has nothing to do with you or him, and he knows that. What happened with my father was an accident. It’s over now.”

 

“But it’s not over.” I thought of Valentino’s drawings, and my father’s gaunt, tired face. It would never be over.

 

“Well, it’s not raw anymore,” he replied carefully. “And it’s not something I blame you for. When I look at you, I feel happy.” He nudged my chin with his finger again. “I don’t care where you’ve come from or who you’re related to, I knew from that first night when I held you that I didn’t want to let go of you. But then you jumped away from me, so I had to …” He trailed off and smiled. “And I felt empty.”

 

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “Why would Luca say it if it wasn’t the reason you were avoiding me?”

 

“Because he was trying to get rid of you,” he admitted. “And he knew that would work.”

 

“I’ve never done anything to him,” I protested weakly. “How could he hate someone he hardly even knows?”

 

“I know things changed when Dom told him who you were, but Luca doesn’t hate you. He’s just protective.”

 

I rolled my eyes, which were damp and sore from crying. “What’s he protecting you from?”

 

“It’s not just about me.” Nic stroked my cheek again. I swallowed hard. I had never wanted to be kissed so badly in my life, and yet I had never felt this desperate for information before.

 

“Do you always do what he says?” I heard the bitterness in my voice.

 

Nic tightened his lips; it accentuated the shadows beneath his cheekbones and the circles under his eyes. “Mostly.”

 

“Why?”

 

He pulled his hands away, knitting them together. “It’s complicated.”

 

“That’s why you can’t be around me anymore,” I pressed, watching his hands and missing their warmth on my skin. “Because he said so?”

 

Nic’s expression turned rueful. “You make it sound so simple.”

 

“Isn’t it?”

 

“No.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

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