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PROLOGUE
Antonio
“Valentina isn’t Isabel’s daughter.”
What the hell?
1
ANTONIO
“What do you mean she’s not Isabel’s daughter?” I probe cautiously, keeping my voice low and well-modulated so as not to frighten her. But despite my efforts to remain calm, the last fleck of color evaporates from Daniela’s cheeks.
“Valentina”—she draws one ragged breath after another, averting my gaze while she chokes out the words—“is my daughter.”
Valentina is my daughter.
Jesus Christ.
I study her carefully, trying to wrap my head around what she’s telling me. There was always something about her relationship with Isabel that didn’t add up. But this? It never crossed my mind. Not once.
Daniela winds her arms around her body, glazed eyes focused on the Persian rug under her feet.
The stillness of the room is ominous. The longer it goes on, the louder and more clawing it becomes, rousing my worst instincts until I spiral into the familiar darkness.
Trust no one.
Question everything.
It’s how I survive.How I’ve always survived.
Even if I wanted to, I can’t abandon my base instincts for a beautiful face—not even hers.
It’s a lie,a voice inside my head cautions.She’s manipulating. She wants to go to the girl. This is nothing more than a clever ploy.I could ignore the warning, but I won’t. “Your daughter? Bullshit.”
“It’s true,” she mouths, barely a whisper.
“Stop lying,” I demand, without a shred of civility. She shudders at the harsh, unforgiving tone.Good.
“Didn’t you learn your lesson the day you ran?” I step closer, looming over her hunched frame. Waiting for her to cower or tremble again—but she doesn’t.
“Manipulating won’t end well for you this time either. If anything, your punishment will be far worse.” She doesn’t blink at the threat. “But you don’t care. You’ll say anything to go to the girl. Or maybe it’s Josh you want to see?”
I pause, looking for some reaction. There’s none, but I’m not done. “My dick isn’t enough? Because you seemed plenty satisfied when I fucked you raw last night.”
She lifts her head in a tentative movement. Her brow furrows while she gapes at me, the lines etching deeply. For a long moment, she studies me as though I’m some peculiar creature she’s never encountered before. “Isabel’s dead. You know how much I loved her. Why are you doing this?”
There’s an innocence in her voice, an incredulity that challenges my humanity. My decency. But I don’t have an answer for her. Not a single one.
She deserves empathy and compassion. Part of me knows it.
Somewhere inside, I know what she said is true. Somewhere inside, I know my uncle and Tomas are responsible for her pain.That’s why she’s afraid of them.My family did this to her.Somewhere inside, I’m certain she’s telling the truth. I taste it in the acid on my tongue. But I refuse to accept it.I can’t.
Instead, I choose to believe she’s a liar, and I’ll cling to that belief until she proves otherwise. I didn’t get where I am by being some chump who caves at the first sign of tears. And I’m not starting now—not even for her. I don’t give a fuck what kind of bastard it makes me.
“Why am I questioning your story? Why don’t I take you at your word? Because you’ve already shown yourself to be a little manipulator. And manipulators useanythingandeverythingto their advantage. Let me give you a small dose of reality. I don’t care how good your pussy feels around my cock. There’s plenty of pussy in the world—some of it right here in Porto—more than enough to keep me entertained during our marriage.”
She glares at me. I see the pain in her eyes. The grief. But I don’t stop.
