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She was a mess. Ratty hair, tear-soaked face, blood-red eyes, and smudged makeup.
“My God, are you all right?” I pushed past her to get in the door.
She closed the door but didn’t step away from it. Her shoulders shook with her sobs. I’d seen her cry before, but I hadn’t seen tears like that since the night I held her before her parents’ funeral.
“What the fuck happened to you?” I asked, my voice hoarse with worry and the nagging fear that something had gone horribly wrong.
She wrapped her arms around her middle and jumped out of the way when I reached for her.
“Noemi?Bambina, come to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Every part of me protested at the distance between us.Don’t let her keep you away. Hold her. She fucking needs you right now.
She shook her head and backed away from me. I dropped my arms. “Noemi? It’s going to be okay. Just talk to me. Are you hurt? Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?”
I was going crazy watching her fall apart in front of me. My eyes raked over her. I didn’t see any physical injuries, but no one cried like that for no reason.
“Let me help you, baby girl,” I pleaded in a whisper.
“Help me?” she choked out. She blinked rapidly and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You can’t help me.”
“I can. I promise. Tell me why you’re crying, and I’ll do everything I can to help you. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“No!” she screamed at me. “You. Tell. Me.” She jabbed her finger in my direction again. “You tell me the truth, Dante.” She started sobbing again. “Please. Just tell me the truth.”
“I will,” I whispered, my voice echoing her pain. “Just tell me what you want to know. I don’t know what you’re talking about, Noemi. What truth do you want me to tell you?”
If she asked me if I cared about her, I’d tell her I did.
If she asked me if I needed her, I’d throw myself at her feet and beg her to let me show her how much.
If she asked me if I loved her, I’d vow to spend the rest of my life proving to her that I did.
My body shook with the realization that I would mean every word I would say.
I loved her.
“What do you want to know,bambina?” I asked again, preparing to bare what was left of my black soul to her.
She swallowed loudly but raised her head to meet my eyes.
“Did you do it?” she said as she sucked in a breath. “Did you kill my parents?”
My heart stopped beating. I wasn’t black hearted enough to not feel her pain. I wasn’t cold enough to walk away and leave her where she was, wondering if the man she’d fallen in love with was capable of such a heinous act, even though I knew I was. My past caught up to me, but I had the truth on my side. If she’d believe me.
“No,” I said firmly.
How the hell had we gotten to this point? And so damn quickly? I had secrets. The truth about her parents’ death was one that I vowed years ago I would take to my grave.
“It wasn’t me. I didn’t kill your parents.”
She believed me. And she saw through me again.
Noemi tilted her head. “But you know someone did? You know... it wasn’t an accident?
I reached a hand out to her, willing her to come to me. I promised her I’d never lie to her. Somehow, something had come her way, some bit of information had been discovered that should have remained buried. The details of her parents’ deaths were just the beginning. Opening this chapter of her life would plunge Noemi into more agony than one person could bear. I wanted to shield her from that, but I didn’t know how much she had found out and I just promised, once again, to tell her the truth.
“Don’t lie to me,” she said through gritted teeth as I hesitated to answer her. “Don’t you dare lie to me. Do you know who killed my parents?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them to hold her tortured gaze. I nodded. “Yes, I do. I know what happened the night your parents were killed.”
