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“I see.”
“What is wrong with you? I’ve been at home worried sick about you, some lunatic slashed my tires and probably followed me home andyou see?”
“What did you want me to say? Why didn’t you report it when it was happening, or did you justforgetto mention it?” He says smiling at me coldly.
“You honestly think I was behind all of this?” I say, my voice almost cracking.
“That is the second time someone has tried to attack you, Sophia. You remember Capri, don’t you?” He asks walking towards me, his face impassive though I can see the familiar tic of anger in his jaw.
“Yes, of course I do,” I say while walking closer to bridge the gap between us, but he takes one step back out of my reach.
“It makes me wonder why they would target you,” he says in a stony voice.
“What are you talking about?” I ask sharply.
“Do you know who the man lying on the floor is?”
“Of course not,” I say looking at Rocco confused. “Rocco, can you tell me what is going on here?”
“You don’t know him, but he seems to know you, Sophia.” I can tell he is trying to control his voice, but I can feel the jagged anger underneath in it.
“Should he?” I say biting my lip to control my own emotions. I have never seen Rocco like this. His eyes are oddly wide, and his smile is more of a sneer. I know now why so many men fear him, as an involuntary icy shiver runs through me.
“He tried to kill me, so I thought you might know each other?” He says softly.
“Why would I?”
“He’s Russian. Are you familiar with the Russians?” He says taking off the knuckle duster and throwing it hard across the room, so it skids across the concrete floor.
“What is it you want to ask me Rocco? Did I try to have you killed?”
“Interesting,” he says, walking towards me and looking down at my face. “That you would think that is what I am referring to.”
“I’m the one who was violated twice, yet you’re blaming me? I don’t get you at all, Rocco. I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought—” I wanted to say I thought you loved me, but I’m not ready for that answer.
“You thought, what?” He says holding me tightly by the arms.
“Nothing,” I mumble. I swallow hard because I can sense a burning in my throat that will only cause a myriad of salty tears.
“I know everything,” he says looking at me frostily and letting me go. I know he can tell I am on the verge of tears and that is what disgusts him the most, weakness.
“What do you mean?” I say trying to reach out for him, but he bats my hand away.
“Your tattoo, the ‘A’ stands for Anton Romanov, doesn’t it? Your fiancé, the heir of the Bratva before your papa gunned him down.”
“Yes,” I say in a whisper, looking down and feeling my world collapse around me.
“Is that all you have to say?” He says coolly.
“It was a long time ago and I was sworn to secrecy by papa. I couldn’t tell you, but I wanted to,” I say, as tears begin to fall stream down my face.
“When I told you not to lie to me, did you think that didn’t count?”
“I didn’t want it to count. A man died because of me, a war started because I fell in love with somebody I shouldn’t have. It’s not the kind of thing that just rolls off the tongue.” With every word I speak, hot tears fall down my face.
“Did you think I would never find out?” he shouts, abandoning the icy demeanor, and I can feel the rage radiating off him like a hot furnace.
“I wanted to tell you for a long time, but I knew how you would react. Kind of how you are now. If you can’t forgive your own mama, how would you ever forgive me? I found her letters and cards.” I say shouting back.
