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He nods. “At some point, you should learn to handle one. I don’t intend on you ever needing to use a weapon, but I’m not a fool. Once we’re married ...”
Antonio looks down at his plate while taking a forkful of rice. He never completes the thought. He doesn’t need to. I can finish it for him.Once we’re married, you become the best way for my enemies to hurt me.Although, in this case,humiliateis a better substitute for hurt. For him to be hurt, he’d have to care about me.
That’s what happened with my parents. They were angry at my mother, but they killed her to destroy my father, whom they despised. In many ways, it worked. He was never quite the same without her.
Antonio’s features have darkened again, and he seems to have pulled away. Having him emotionally unavailable isn’t helpful to my plan.
“Don’t worry about teaching me to use a gun,” I quip with a healthy dose of sarcasm. “Even if you force me to marry you, I won’t kill you in your sleep. Food poisoning’s not off the table, though.”
A ghost of a smile plays on his lips, but it doesn’t materialize into anything real.
“I’m not afraid of dying in a racing accident,” he admits, taking a drink of wine. “I use the simulator to stay on top of my game because I hate to lose.”
Of course. Better to die than lose.
I liked it better when we were discussing the fairy-tale turrets. I’ve had enough of death talk. Besides, I’m more likely to win him over if he’s not in a sullen mood.
“As nice as this house is, it seems awfully big for one person. Don’t you get lonely here?”Like a real person—the kind with a heart and soul.
“I keep an apartment at Huntsman Lodge. It’s where I stay most of the time. When my cousin Rafael came to live with me, I wanted him to have some space outside the city. I bought the house then.”
Years before my father died, I remember hearing that Rafael was living with Antonio. There was all sorts of gossip, including that they were actually brothers instead of cousins. I even heard someone speculate that Antonio was Rafael’s father. It all sounded far-fetched.
“I’d heard Rafael was living with you. Did something happen at your uncle’s house?”
“My uncle is a monster, but you already know that.”
He studies me for a long moment, and my heart pounds harder with each passing second.
“Isn’t that why you left?” he asks, still gauging my reaction. “You were afraid of him.”
Antonio lays his fork at the edge of the plate. He’s expecting a response. If I change the subject or evade the question, I’ll in a sense be saying,Yes,I’m afraid of him. Then there will be follow-up questions and relentless probing. I can’t afford that.
I look straight into his searching eyes. This might be one of the biggest lies I’ve told in my life—and I’ve told many at this point. But as Valentina would say, I need to hit this one out of the park.
“I was alone and afraid of everything, then. Your uncle was but one of many worries. I was worried about you too.”And rightfully so, as it turns out.
I can’t tell whether he believes me or not, but he cuts a bite of beef and doesn’t say a word.
I need to change the subject—anything is safer than follow-up questions. Antonio’s not a fool.
“I was a bit surprised when Cristiano brought me here. I expected you to have taken over your family’s estate.” It’s a bit out of left field, but it’ll do.
“My mother isn’t in Porto often, but it’s her house.” He shrugs. “I have no interest in it.”
“I remember the little playroom under the stairs. Is it still there?”
He shakes his head. “There was a fire. The house burned down to the foundation. I had it rebuilt for my mother so she could start over. But it looks very different.”
“How awful. Was anyone hurt?”
“No.”
“Still, to lose a beautiful house and everything inside that you’ve collected over a lifetime.”
“Nothing was lost. Nothing worth keeping, anyway. Everything of value was moved out before the first ember was lit.”
He set fire to the house he grew up in.Jesus.
