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“I am Drago Prazza.”
***
Chapter Twenty-One
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. –Shakespeare
I’m no goddamn Juliet! The line stuck inside Alessandra’s heart like a barb. She was frozen as blood whooshed through her ears, leaving her deafened to everything as she tried to process Drake’s admission.
“I’m not Drake Walker,” he said. “I’m Drago Prazza.”
Alessandra closed her eyes and willed the tears to stop streaming down her cheeks. She’d stood on the precipice of truth, and Drake had pushed her off the fucking cliff, upending her whole world with a fucking name.
Damn it!
“Bella?” Drake’s voice finally cut through the buzz in her head, forcing her to face his words.
“No! No!” A strangled cry caught in her throat.
Her body’s fight-or-flight response told her it was time to get the fuck out of dodge. She blindly pushed against Noah, who grabbed her around the waist as she fought against him.
“Let me go,” Alessandra sobbed.
“No, sweetheart,” Noah whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Alessandra had thirsted for the truth—she’d begged, pleaded, cried, and threatened to get it. Now, she’d give anything to pretend those words had never left her husband’s lips. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wish that genie back in the bottle.
Her husband—Alessandra’s skin crawled as she looked at the man whose ring scalded her finger. The collar around her neck was no mere albatross but a noose. Her skin broke out in a cold sweat as his eyes traced over her body. Every moment together was built on a lie, and she hated that he knew her so intimately.
Alessandra had forgiven him when he treated her like shit for weeks after they wed. She forgave him when she thought he’d fucked Riley behind her back. Considering the circumstances surrounding their relationship, she forgave him for more than she’d thought possible.
But here she was in the bed of a stranger. No, not a stranger. How didn’t she see it before? He had the same cold, dark eyes as the bogeyman that had killed her mother. She hadn’t married a good man; she’d married a fucking monster.
Waves of nausea rolled through Alessandra, and she was going to be sick. She fought harder against Noah. Her nails dug into the flesh of his wrists until he swore and let her go. She vaulted off the bed, only to collapse in Drake’s arms.
“I’ve got you, bella.”
“Let me go!” she cried.
Strength failed her when she needed it most. She sagged against him, relishing in the comfort of his arms. This man was Drake Walker, her husband and lover.
Drake helped her settle back against the bed pillows, and she pulled the white duvet over her lap. The treacherous organ in her chest continued to beat despite it having shattered to pieces.
“It can’t be true,” she began. “You’re Drake Walker.”
“It’s true, Alessandra. I was in a car accident at sixteen and needed a blood transfusion. They don’t just randomly give you blood; they test you to properly type and cross you for a match.” Drake’s eyes darkened. “My blood type didn’t match my parents or siblings. My whole world changed when I learned Enzo Prazza is my father.”
Alessandra looked from Drake’s broody expression to Mrs. Walker’s tear-soaked face. “This is crazy. How did this happen?”
“I can tell you everything, dear,” Mrs. Walker offered, clutching the pearls around her neck and pulling the beads back and forth. “My sister, Juliana, was a waitress in a high-end restaurant during college. Our family came from money, and she didn’t need to work. But she said working was an opportunity to flex her independence. Juliana had a zest for life and enjoyed meeting people.
“We only wanted to protect Drake and honor Juliana’s dying wish. She kept a journal during her pregnancy. I gave it to Drake the night we told him the truth about his parentage.”
Drake picked up a worn, brown leather diary and handed it to Alessandra. She opened it gingerly, leafing through the weathered pages. Juliana’s delicate script on the page brought the story of her past to life.
***
Chapter Twenty-Two
