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He doesn’t look at me. Not even a glance in my direction.He can’t.It was my father’s reaction when he learned what happened, too.
Empathy is what one might expect in this situation, but in my father’s world, Antonio’s world, where everything is a commodity, empathy is in short supply. A man believes he has a pretty little jewel to admire, to pet, to barter with, unblemished and pure. Then he learns she’s been soiled in the most revolting way.Damaged. Worthless.But still, he’s stuck with her. It can cut a man to the quick—especially a powerful man.
My first instinct is to make Antonio feel better. To think about how I might cajole myself back into his good graces, like I did with my father. A few charming words and a shy smile to win back his love and affection. But I groveled once, and I don’t have the energy or the desire to do it for Antonio—unlike my father, Antonio never loved me.
I dig my heels into the bedframe and lift my chin. “I realize this is unsettling, and not at all what you expected when you agreed to marry me, but none of it was my doing. Or Valentina’s. I expect you to ensure her safety until I get to the US.” I don’t hedge or act as though he might not allow me to go, even though it’s a real concern. And I don’t fucking apologize.
“I need to know what happened,” he says quietly, from the window, a safe distance away.
“I’ll answer all your questions. But first, I need to know where Valentina is and who’s with her. She’s too young to be left alone—especially under these circumstances. I want to talk to her.” I pause to push away the memories—the horror—of me alone in the meadow with my mother after they killed her and left us.Oh God.The panic begins to rise, again. “Is Valentina at the apartment with Isabel?”
He shakes his head. “She’s still at the school event.”
Thank God.I don’t want her to see Isabel—not like that. “I want your word she’ll be safe.”
“She’s safe. There are guards stationed outside the school building. We have a few hours before the students are released. It’s enough time to come up with a solid plan.”
She’s safe and guarded.Then why is my heart still hammering? The ups and downs make me feel like I’m in an aged theme park on a never-ending roller coaster with rickety tracks.
Although, right now, the ground seems less shaky, and I’m starting to feel less numb. Having a conversation with him about Valentina’s safety gives me purpose, and it makes me feel less alone.
“I need to go to the US. Now.” My voice is low, but firm. “You can come with me, or send me alone, but I need to go, and it can’t wait.” Despite my confidence, there’s no telling what he’ll decide. I doubt I’m going anywhere just yet. At least not until I’ve laid out everydisgustingdetail.
Antonio swivels and stalks toward the bed, stopping a few feet away. “You’re not leaving here until I know more.” He might be battered around the edges, but he’s fully in charge again. His tone makes it clear he’s not negotiating this point. “This could be a setup. Some kind of ruse to lure you out into the open. Someone tried to kill you yesterday.”
Someone tried to kill you yesterday.My stomach knots. It’s not exactly a surprise, but I’m still struggling to come to terms with it. It’s especially troubling now that Isabel is dead, and if I die, Valentina will be left alone, or worse—given to her father.
“I need more information to assess and manage the risk,” he continues. “It’s a dangerous situation for all of us, but especially for you.”
You have that wrong—Valentina is in a far more perilous situation.
There’s no pity in his gaze—at least not more than a brief flash. Although there’s sorrow behind those chiseled features, and real concern. I hang on to the rare glimpse of humanity, not saying a word that might cause it to evaporate.
“If you expect to get on a plane anytime soon, I need more.” His voice is challenging now, and whatever compassion was there has vanished. The cool, calculating businessman is back. He holds all the cards. We both know it.
My stomach begins to protest, raising anger and resentment as it roils.
You want to know what happened? You really want to know? Because from your reaction a few minutes ago, I’m not sure you can handle the truth—but you’re about to get it.
I glare at him with a fury that propels the words from the depths of my soul, where I’ve squirreled it all away.The horror. The shame. The terror. The pain.
“Your father raped my mother while your uncle forced me to watch, and when he was finished with her, he tried to rape me, but he couldn’t—perform.” My insides tremble as I spit out the bitter words—words that I can never take back. My relationship with Antonio never had a chance. Whether we’ll remain married is another matter. One I can’t worry about, because my daughter needs me.
The numbness is back. But it’s okay, because I need it right now. It’s the only thing standing between me and a complete meltdown.
“Your father hovered over me with his spent cock, slapping me in the face, and demanding that I scream and fight him. I didn’t understand at the time, but I’m sure he thought my struggle would arouse him. But I didn’t fight or scream. I didn’t utter a word. I was in shock, and my brain took me somewhere safe to protect me.”
Antonio hisses, and even from several feet away, I feel his rage. But I can’t see it—not really, because the more I talk, the fuzzier he becomes.
“When Hugo moved off me, Abel started to take his place. There were some angry words between them, then your father shoved him away, and made Tomas get on top of me. Your father knelt behind me and pinned my shoulders to the ground. ‘Use her well,’ he sneered. ‘Be as rough as you can with the little virgin so that she never forgets her place. Don’t hold back, boy.’”
I don’t look at Antonio, not because I’m ashamed, but because the story, with all its ugly details, has taken on a life of its own. It wants out. Even if he begged me to stop talking, I couldn’t. I don’t weigh the words or form the sounds. I’m just a conduit.
“My mother begged for my safety. For my life. Quiet tears slid down her cheeks while they made her watch my torture. I kept my eyes latched to hers while Tomas violated me—until your father held my head firm and forced me to look at Tomas’s red face. He was sweating like a pig. He grunted when he finished and collapsed on top of me until they pulled him off to admire the spoils.
“After they cheered the blood on my thighs, your father went to my mother and held her up by the hair. He called her a whore and said this was her punishment for sticking her nose in his business. Then he slit her throat with a long blade while I watched.”
I gasp as the memory rushes back. For a moment, the world fades away, and I’m back in the meadow, surrounded by freshly mowed grass and honeysuckle, the sweet scent a staggering contrast to Hugo Huntsman’s viciousness.
