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“Nothing?” I choked on a humorless laugh. “I only went and blabbed his deepest secrets to you in exchange for an orgasm. Secrets that you then used to undermine confidence in his regime as soon as my father died and left Pedro to ascend as his heir.” I tasted the acid in my confession, but I couldn’t suppress the lingering toxicity from my years of caustic rage. “I indulged in one night of fun with you in exchange for half of my brother’s cartel. I allowed my body to be used as a commodity, so Pedro made sure that I understood the gravity of the error I’d made.”
My gaze fixed on the crystal decanter by Stefano’s elbow, unable to meet his intense dark eyes as I finished my spiteful admission. “Miguel had always wanted me, and once you challenged Pedro and fractured our cartel, my brother needed all the most powerful allies he could get. My body bought Miguel’s unwavering support. It took me over a year to finally convince Pedro that I was of greater value to the cartel as a Ronaldo than as Miguel Armendariz’s whore.”
Stefano’s muscles solidified to iron around me, tension gripping his strong frame. I kept my eyes on the decanter, studying the amber liquid trapped within the cut crystal vessel rather than facing my enemy.
“You really do hate me.” He choked on the revelation.
My eyes snapped to his, drawn to the dark pools that swallowed me up and offered blessed release from debilitating fear. I cupped his cheek, studying the sharp line of his clenched jaw before running my thumb over the bitter slash of his lips.
“No,” I said on a soft sigh, marveling at the changes in me. “I don’t think I do hate you, Stefano. Not anymore.”
His brows drew together. “Why?”
I kept my palm flush with his angular face, anchoring myself to him. “Because you don’t hate me, either.”
Although his limbs remained locked up tight, his head turned slightly, leaning into my touch. “I’ve never hated you, Carmen.”
“I know you didn’t,” I murmured, explaining the full extent of his awful callousness. “You used me and then left me to face unknown consequences, and you felt nothing. It was worse than if you’d thrown me to the wolves because you loathed me; you simply didn’t care about anything other than your own survival.”
His jaw ticked beneath my hand. “You were right to hate me for that. I swear I didn’t know the truth about your relationship with Miguel. I didn’t know that you suffered because of my actions. I’m sorry, kitten.” His black eyes burned into mine. “I’m so sorry.”
I drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, mindfully releasing the last of my toxic emotions toward Stefano. “I believe you. And that’s why I don’t hate you anymore.”
I trailed my fingers through his dark hair, mussing the carefully designed, carefree style. He closed his eyes briefly, indulging in the simple pleasure of my tender touch.
“I don’t think you’d ever been truly sorry for anything a day in your life until you captured me. But I believe that you are sorry now.”
Stefano might not experience empathy, but the knowledge of how he’d caused me to suffer obviously pained him. He wasn’t a normal man, and I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he was capable of having traditional romantic feelings for me. But he cared about me deeply, in his own insane way.
Most of the tension eased from his muscles, but his features remained pinched with strain. “I just want you to be happy, kitten. I don’t want you to be in any pain, and I’ve been the cause of so much of yours. I don’t understand why you’re forgiving me.”
I knew him well enough now to realize that he wasn’t experiencing guilt, but a close approximation: puzzlement and uncertainty about my forgiveness. He wanted it, but he didn’t logically understand why I would offer it.
“I’m tired of being angry,” I admitted the weary truth. “I’m tired of being scared. You promised that I can be safe with you, and I want that. You’ve proven that I can trust you. I’m choosing to be with you, Stefano.” I offered him a wry smile. “Even if you keep insisting that I don’t have a choice, I assure you that I do. You would be well aware if I did not choose you.”
One corner of his mouth ticked up in a crooked smile of his own. “Yes, I understand that you’re capable of being quite naughty when you’re feeling obstinate, kitten.” He trailed his fingers through my hair, and I nuzzled into his hand, openly welcoming more. “I much prefer you like this.”
“You’d better learn how to keep me in a good mood, then,” I teased. “Don’t worry, I’ll train you to take very good care of me.”
