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“Why does that sound ominously vague?”
Shrugging, she toyed with the top button on my shirt. “I won’t bore you with the details, but my father believes he can arrange a marriage to a pig.”
The ache in my chest deepened. “Sadly, that still occurs in several countries. Aren’t you American through and through?”
Now she rolled her eyes. “Try telling my father that. He even sent my brother to keep watch over me until the wretched event occurs.” She looked away, but not before I noticed her face flushing. “My girlfriends had a crazy idea that I should arrange a marriage of my own.”
I shot her a look as I put my glass on the counter. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t look at me that way. You know, a marriage of convenience that’s all the rage in romance novels? I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”
Smirking, I lifted a single eyebrow. “Did you consider the option?”
“The sad thing is that I have. Does it sound crazy?”
“Are you asking?”
“I’d like your opinion.”
I yanked a towel from the counter, wiping my hands. “Are you asking?”
The bright blossom of red skittering up her already rosy cheeks could make any man turn into an animal. “I… I mean… No, I…” The nervous laugh was followed by Lucia taking a gulp of her wine, her hand shaking.
I grabbed the bottle of cabernet, heading in her direction. As her gaze drifted to my hardening cock, she dared to drag her tongue across her lips. Fuck me, I wanted her again.
“Mmm…” she murmured as I refilled her glass. “It was just a crazy thought.”
“Ask me again when we get to know each other better.”
“Be careful what you ask for.” There was a haunted look in her eyes, as if memories were crowding into the moment. “I shouldn’t say this, but please tell me your father was punished for the way he treated you.”
Exhaling, I returned to concentrating on making dinner. I hadn’t shared a meal with anyone in a long time, other than the ridiculous formal family gatherings I’d been forced to endure since my adoption.
“He’s still alive and kicking, although he won’t be head of the household for much longer.”
“Why?”
I thought about my answer. “Because he’s dying of cancer.”
“I shouldn’t wish ill on anyone, but maybe that’s what he deserves, to rot in hell. Oops,” she laughed, pressing her fingers across her mouth. “My friends always tell me I’m too pushy in demanding information and sharing my thoughts. The one thing my mother did teach me before she checked out mentally and emotionally was that I had to fight harder than boys and men to get what I wanted. That often entailed finding myself in uncomfortable positions.”
“Why did your mother check out?”
Lucia darted another glance in my direction before turning completely away. “Because my father treated my brother much the same way as yours did. It started when Enzo was a little boy, his punishments for the smallest infractions harsh. Then it escalated into more brutal methods when he was older. I never knew how bad it had gotten until I was allowed to come home one summer. I regretted stepping back in my father’s house, something I said I’d never do. Hell, I remained in a fog the entire time. I even swore I saw ghosts. That’s how bad it was.”
The angst in her voice was toxic. I stopped what I was doing, allowing her to relive something she shouldn’t have been forced to endure in the first place.
“But even before that, my sister Sophia and I could hear our brother’s screams at night, wailing for our mother to come save him. We used to huddle together, putting pillows over our heads to try and block out his shrieks. It never worked.”
I lifted my head, studying the faraway look on her face. I’d known from the day my family had arrived at the Lazarro estate that her old man was a brutal son of a bitch. However, it took a special bastard to torture his own flesh and blood.
“I did what I could to try and protect Sophia. She was so young and couldn’t understand why our father beat Enzo weekly if not daily. I used to read to her, playing music to try and soothe her while she cried. The only time she calmed down was when I hummed one of a few very special songs.” She rubbed her fingers across her lips. “You see, my father didn’t want to hear us cry, threatening using his belt if he caught us.”
My grip tightened on the knife, the rage brimming far too close to the surface. I hadn’t known. If I had, the bastard would have died a long time before. The sound of her voice was entirely different, as if she’d needed someone to share her damning story with. She was such a powerful force in business but with me, she was exactly the same girl who’d cried when her horse had gotten sick. Or the night her beloved dog had been found dead, his throat slashed.
I’d seen the bastard do it, Enzo laughing after performing the monstrous deed. Then he’d found me in the shadows, forcing me to bury the poor creature or he’d lie and tell his father I’d been responsible. She’d cried for a week, clinging to me for comfort. I’d never understood why she couldn’t share her grief with her family.
Now I knew why. The desire to rip her family apart only increased with every word of sorrow dripping from her mouth.
