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Aria didn’t knowwhere she was going or what she hoped to accomplish. She knew only that she needed to escape the hotel room, the pity inDamian’seyes.
That was the worst part — knowing she’d been naive enough to believe Primo hadn’t played a part in her kidnapping, that she’d said as much toDamian.
That she’d defendedPrimo.
And all along Damian had known, had kept her from thetruth.
Even now, she was reasonable enough to know her anger wasn’t directed at Damian. He’d lied, yes, but only to protect her. That’s not what had driven her from the hotel, out onto the cold, damp streets ofParis.
It was the revelation itself, the knowledge that Primo had played a part in her kidnapping. That he'd subjected her to the shootout in Italy and the terrifying flight across the water to Greece, the long weeks in the apartment in Athens, Malcolm’s questions andviolence.
He hadn’t even come to see her. She didn’t know why that part hurt, but it did. He hadn’t even wanted to make sure for himself that she was okay. He’d trusted Malcolm even with that. Then he’d met her in Paris and lied toherface.
It was evening, the streets already dark and filled with late commuters heading home after work and others on their way out to the city’s bars and restaurants. She had no idea where she was going or how far she’d come from the hotel when she found herself on the bank of theSeine.
A white bridge stretched over the water, the city’s old fashioned street lamps lighting the way across. The Eiffel Tower rose beyond it, an advertisement for Paris’smagic.
She sat on one of the old iron benches and wrapped her arms acrossherbody.
She’d been too shaken to remember a jacket on her way out of the hotel, and while it wasn’t as cold as New York in January, it was close. She’d been warm while she was walking — heated by anger and the movement of her legs — but now the cold began to seep into herbones.
She ignored it, focusing instead on the scent of the cool air, moist and peaty, wafting off the Seine. It was different from the smell of the river in New York, and she remembered all the times she and Primo had taken long walks through the city when they were too young and broke to domuchelse.
They’d walked the city a hundred times over, always somehow making their way to the water. There they would sit, sometimes in silence, other times talking about their parents, and later, Primo’s dreams for the future of hisbusiness.
He’d come a long way in spite of his illness, especially given his lack of treatment. In fact, his ability to amass a fortune, to lead a contingent of dangerous, violent men, was a smallmiracle.
His success had been a blessing and a curse. It had allowed her to attend college, to fool herself into thinking they were normal at a time when she desperately needed it tobetrue.
But it had also allowed her to forget how sick Primo was. It had allowed her to make excuses, to convince herself that he was manageable, that even if Malcolm sometimes preyed on Primo’s worst instincts, she couldcounterthem.
It had been a kind of narcissism. She’d wanted to see herself as Primo’s savior, as the one person who could save him fromhimself.
A mental illness in its ownright.
It had taken this to come to her senses —the knowledge that Primo had sanctioned her kidnapping on Capri. That he’d sanctioned her imprisonment inGreece.
What did that sayabouther?
There were other questions pushing at the back of her mind. How long would he have allowed it to continue? Would he have eventually ordered her release? Or would he have had her killed to keep her fromDamian?
She was nolongersure.
She looked out over the water, watched a couple lean into each other as they made their way across the bridge. It made her think of Damian, of the strength he’d shown in coming for her inGreece.
Of the tenderness he’d shown hersincethen.
She’d never doubted him. Not once. Even in the hotel when he’d been telling her about Primo, she’d known he’d lied to protect her. That he would do anything to keep protecting her. Confronting him with the lie was just a way of avoiding the real issue of Primo’sbetrayal.
She’d made Damian’s takeover of the New York territory — made his life — exponentially more difficult. She hadn’t even been able to wrap her head around what it had taken to get Farrell Black and the other Syndicate leaders to commit to her rescue in Athens, but she knew Damian had done it. That he’d done whateverittook.
Damian had never been the problem. It was her — her refusal to see Primo clearly, to admit the danger he posed not just to her but to Damian and everyone inherlife.
She hadn’t wanted to choose. Now she saw that not choosing was a luxury she could no longer afford. It meant turning a blind eye to everything Primo was — and that meant turning a blind eye to the danger he posed toDamian.
Toher.
