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“Have you painted anything lately?” I ask, as I set up the spare bedroom with all the painting equipment.
“No,” she says firmly, her gaze unwavering. “I can’t bring myself to paint right now.”
“Why not?” I ask, studying her for any sign of unease.
“Because I feel like a fool,” she replied. “To think that I never knew my own father all these years. It’s like I’ve been living a lie.”
“You couldn’t have known what he was up to all this time. All of your family is blind to it.”
Bella snorts. “I don’t think my mother was blind to it.”
I pause, considering her words carefully. I highly doubt Viola could have possibly known the full extent of Gio’s atrocities. She would have never stayed with him if she did.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge your mother,” I say softly. “She obviously has no idea the monster he is or else she would have never been in his life at all.”
Bella presses her lips together and stares down at her plate as if it will provide an answer. After a few moments of silence, she looks up and sighs deeply.
“Painting seems pointless right now, anyway.”
“Fair enough,” I reply, knowing when to quit.
The two of us consumed our meal in silence, dark thoughts moving back and forth in my mind like a chess game. Could Bella really come to terms with the fact that I will kill her own father? And take my sweet time doing it? His death deserves to be slow and excruciatingly painful, yet at the same time, I don’t wish for him to become another wedge between us. All I can do is pray that one day soon she will grow to love me as much as I love her.
40
BELLA
“There’s no way I can stomach this,” I say, eyes trained on Isiah as he tightens his tie.
He tosses a hand through his luscious brown hair and turns to me, his lips curling into an angelic smile that sends electricity through my veins. “What choice do we have? We’ve been invited to dinner by your parents. We can’t exactly refuse.”
“Faking the flu is always an option,” I suggest.
A booming laugh escapes his throat, and he comes closer, brushing his lips against my neck ever so gently, sending an unyielding fire coursing through my veins. It’s maddening how one touch from him has the power to make my heart thunder and render me completely speechless.
Why does he have such power over me?
“I’m sure you can handle one dinner, love. How do you think I managed to sit with your father evening after evening before we married?”
I turn to face him, shaking my head. “I don’t know.” It’s something that has been on my mind, especially as I understand now the depth of hatred that he harbors toward my dad. “How did you manage not to show it? How did you control your emotions?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been forced from a very young age to conceal my emotions, so I guess it comes as second nature to me.”
I swallow hard. “It kind of scares me, though.”
“Scares you, why?” he asks, brow furrowed.
“You’re such a good actor. How do I know if anything you say to me is true?”
His expression turns serious. “There’s no need for me to act when it comes to you, love.” He kisses me then, stealing the breath from my lungs and eradicating any worries I have about the way he feels for me. “Convinced?” he asks, as he breaks away to search my eyes.
I nod in response. “For now.”
He laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. Lately, he’s laughing a lot more around me and I must admit every time I hear it, it makes my heart flutter like an excited schoolgirl having her first crush.
I groan. “This is going to be awful. I haven’t had to face my dad since I found out the truth.” I shudder, as I’m not sure how I can face him, knowing how sick and twisted he really is.
“You’ll be fine, trust me.” He squeezes my hips. “I’ll be there to help you through it. And this time next week, he’ll be...” Isiah trails off, obviously thinking better of mentioning the fact that he’ll be dead, since Isiah intends to murder him.
