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‘No. I have enough to ruin him, remember? To make him crumble into nothingness. Prim’Aqua is my first preference, but without it I will still succeed, querida.’
‘Don’t you dare call me that,’ she spat. ‘Not when you can be so ruthless and vile.’
His face flashed with surprise at her insults, and when she pressed her palm to her stomach, his eyes dropped to the gesture.
‘I can’t do this.’ She reached for her wedding band and slid it off her finger, then her engagement ring—that had belonged to his grandmother. She held them out to him but he refused to take them, so she placed them on the table instead.
‘I can’t be your wife, I can’t raise this baby with you, and I can’t give you Prim’Aqua.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Our deal’s off, Antonio. Destroy him if you will, but know that I will never, ever be able to forgive you if you do. Know that you will turn my love to hatred. It’s your decision.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HE SWORE UNDER his breath, watching as she disappeared into the wardrobe of their room. The last few minutes seemed like a dream—he could barely believe she was threatening to end their marriage.
She was upset, her shoulders shifting with silent tears, and his gut twisted with the knowledge that he’d done that to her. He’d hurt her, he’d brought her into something she hadn’t even known existed.
But why? Why had this feud torn him apart, fuelled Carlo’s actions, and yet Amelia had known nothing of it? Was it simply that she’d shown no interest in the business side of her family? Or was there something more to it? How could she fail to see how deep these wounds ran?
Her face, when she’d told him she was leaving, had been so full of certainty, resignation, as though that was the end of it. As though he wouldn’t be able to change her mind.
That thought alone galvanised him into action—he couldn’t accept the finality of that. He pushed his legs forward, carrying himself towards her, pushing into the large dressing room to find her taking clothes from drawers and laying them in a duffel bag.
And he groaned because, no matter what he felt for her family, he didn’t want to lose her.
‘Don’t go,’ he said simply, moving towards her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She swallowed a sob then, and it was a sound that tore him apart.
‘Why should I stay?’ she asked after a moment, pulling away and looking at him with a challenge. She reached behind her for another stack of shirts and pushed them into the bag.
‘Because you’re my wife,’ he said, as though it were simple.
‘Yes. And I love you.’ She nodded, but it was clear she didn’t welcome that fact. ‘But I have a track record of loving people when they can’t love me back. And it destroys me—just like it did with my mother. If I stay, and pour all of myself into this marriage and our family, knowing you will never be able to give me what I need, then I’ll be broken. And I won’t be broken again.’
Her words landed against him like bricks. He stared at her, with no idea what he could say to change her mind.
‘Tell me you love me,’ she said softly, her eyes challenging him. ‘Tell me you love me enough to forget your hatred for Carlo. Tell me you love me enough to leave the past alone and concentrate on our future instead.’
Silence. Her words were foreign, dipped in arsenic. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, soften in his resolve to destroy her brother. Never. Not even with his dying breath.
There had to be another way to get through to her. He reached for her gently, bringing her to him, and kissed her, intending to seduce her into seeing sense—or at least dependence. But he tasted her salty tears in his mouth and wrenched himself away, spinning on his heel and stalking across the dressing room.
That wasn’t right either.
‘I want you to stay,’ he said simply, the words torn from him.
‘Not enough.’ She slid her feet into shoes and looked around for her handbag. She was tired—she wore no make-up and her skin was so pale, her eyes red from the sting of tears. ‘And I won’t stay for what you’re offering.’ She looked so incredibly haunted, so miserable yet so brave as she glared at him with every appearance of strength and determination, that the heart in his chest splintered apart, shattering into thousands of pieces.
‘Stay because you want to,’ he said softly.
She recoiled as though he’d physically hit her and his chest heaved.
‘Please, stay.’
But she shook her head, and bit down on her lip. Her hands pressed to her stomach, and she moved towards the door. ‘I’ll let you know, when... I’ll message you.’
The idea of hearing about the birth of his child through a text message sliced through his soul. How could he possibly bear to be distant from such an event? How could he be on the outside—not knowing how her delivery was going, not knowing that she was okay, that she was well?
He shook his head, opened his mouth to tell her that wasn’t good enough, but she was gone, and he couldn’t find any words.
What could he possibly say that would change her mind? Nothing.
