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“So, you’re a spy as well as a traitor. Interesting,” he sneers.
“I’m neither, you talk about secrets,but you never once told me about her.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, are you working for the Russians? Well, are you?” He bellows.
I reel back in shock. Does he really think I am so callous and conniving? I stare at Rocco, searching for some semblance of the man I thought I knew but he isn’t there anymore. He has been replaced by Don Croccifixio De Luca, the icy, unforgiving killer.
“Do you really think I’m that stupid to lay in your bed every night and scheme to betray you?” I scream incredulously.
“That is not stupid, it’s smart because I never saw it coming. I knew you were holding something back from me, but you neglected to tell that you had a dead fiancé who happened to be a Romanov. Did it just slip your mind?” He smacks his fists against the wall. “Did you try to have me assassinated?” He says, his face a mask of fury.
“No! I don’t know who is behind this, but it isn’t me. I wouldn’t, Rocco. I love you,” I say my words barely audible.
“Nice subterfuge.” He snorts. “You really had me fucking convinced, Sophia, even now with the tears and the hysterics you’re still keeping the act going.”
“Rocco,” I say trying to get through to him, but he ignores me.
“This man on the floor is Ivan Romanov. He was at your wedding, he survived your papa’s Russian massacre. You’re on quite a roll, Sophia. One fiancé dead and your current husband almost joining him.” He looks at me to assess the damage. I can tell every word is a knife for him and he wants to make me bleed as much as he can, for in his eyes he wants to hurt me as much as I hurt him.
“Look at me, Rocco, please,” I say imploringly.
“What is it?” He snaps.
“Rocco, I would not do this to you and deep down you know this,” I say walking towards him and reaching up to his face.
“Because you love me?” He says while holding his own hands over mine.
“Yes!” I say exhaling out in relief that he finally understands.
“More than you love Anton?” He says grabbing my wrists and yanking them off his face.
“What kind of question is that? He’s dead!” I say looking at him in repulsion.
“He died in your arms before you even got to marry him, tough break.” He says callously.
“If you’re so sure I’m behind this, kill me,” I say reaching for the gun in his pocket, but he swiftly moves out of my reach.
“You know I won’t do that,” he says slowly, as if considering his options.
“What is the alternative?” I say, feeling a shudder overtake my body.
“You go your way and I’ll go mine,” he says finally.
“You want a divorce?” I say feeling my heart constrict in my chest.
“You know that wouldn’t be good for either of us but in all other aspects, it’s over. We’re done,” he says emotionlessly.
My head and heart are trying to calibrate this information, it can’t be over. How can he walk away from me so easily? I feel a sting from every word coming out of his mouth, and for a wild second, I think I would rather him shoot me than do this.
“What do you mean?” I say clutching my chest.
“It means in public we’re together but behind the scenes, we’re not. I can’t risk a separation in the middle of a war. After the war is over, we’ll divorce, and you can go back home to your family. It’s not like you ever wanted to get married to me anyway, not when you were cruelly ripped away from your true love,” he says chillingly.
“If you would just let me, explain—” I say trying to speak but he cuts me off.
“No, I’ve heard everything I need to. We’re done. Franco, Damon!” He yells as they both enter.
“Rocco, please!” I say springing towards him, but Franco and Damon pull me off him.
