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I scoff. “Too little, too late.”
“I had business to take care of.”
“Business?” I cross my arms. “Entertaining your friends?”
“No.” He twists a lock of my hair around his finger. “Why? Does the idea bother you?”
I step back, escaping his touch.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “We discovered a spy at one of my warehouses. I had to put extra safety measures in place. I would’ve come sooner if I didn’t have to spend the week in Bastia.” Studying me, he says without as much as a flinch, “What you’re really angry about is the birth control pills.”
I grit my teeth to prevent the hurt from sounding in my voice. “What you did is wrong on so many levels.”
“I never lied to you about my intentions. I told you that night when you gave me your virginity. I told you when I married you. And I told you when I fucked you in my house.”
Indignation surges through me. “Youtoldme? That makes it right? That justifies your one-sided decision?” I drop my arms, pinning them at my sides as I advance on him. “Have you considered for one minute that it’s my body we’re talking about? That I have to carry this baby and give birth to it? We’re talking about a life—a person—not an object to serve your purpose.”
His gaze plays over my face. “You’ll have the best medical care. A private clinic. A midwife at home. You can have a caesarian or an epidural so you won’t feel the pain. I’ll employ a personal trainer that specializes in postnatal exercises to help speed your recovery. I’ll love our child. I’ll be a good father.”
Betrayal runs like thick, hot lava through me. He hurt me with deceit before, but this is on a different level. How much he must hate me if he can inflict such pain so boldly. So emotionlessly. Did he feel the same degree of betrayal when he concluded that I sold him out? Did the false notion hurt him as deeply as I’m hurting now? Is he capable of feelings so intense, or is he an even colder monster than I imagined?
“So that’s what I am.” Tears of humiliation burn behind my eyes. “An animal for breeding. Like a cow or a bitch.”
He clenches his jaw. “You’re my wife.”
“Yes.” To my great misfortune. “In your book, that equals a possession.”
Irritation washes over his features. “You set the conditions for our marriage when you made your choices.”
“Choices?” I exclaim. “What choices?”
His voice turns heated. “When you chose to betray me not once but twice.”
“Do you mean when I tried to escape the marriage you forced me into?” I ask with sarcasm.
A cruel smile flirts with his lips as he says in a dark tone, “Do not fucking remind me about that. Not now. Not ever.”
“Shall we rather talk about the second time?” My voice climbs in volume. “About how I was stripped naked and probed in places no stranger should ever see because my husband is a fucking despicable criminal?”
Striking out, he wraps a hand around my neck. His eyes gleam with fury I shouldn’t provoke, but I’m beyond reason.
His words are measured. “Keep your voice down.”
I meet his gaze with defiance. “Why don’t you just say what you mean and tell me to shut the fuck up because what I think or feel doesn’t matter.”
His eyes tighten to slits as he increases the pressure of his fingers. I’m sure he’d love to snap my neck, and the scary part is that I can’t bring myself to give a shit.
A battle wars in his black eyes as he squeezes harder. His nostrils flare and his jaw bunches even as he unlocks his fingers one by one from around my throat while I quietly challenge him. Challenge him to do what? To end this now? To strangle the life out of me? To admit the truth? To tell me in words what I already know just so I can punish myself more? I made myself vulnerable by apologizing for my family’s mistakes to my dad’s killer no less, and for what? For this. For him to remind me that he’s still a devil.
“Say it, Mr. Russo.” I’m taunting him, pushing us toward an abyss. I want to break something I can’t name. I want to sever the sole but powerful tie that binds us—our hatred. Instinctively, I know there’s no other way I can move on. “At least be man enough to be honest about what you want.”
He goes quiet. The anger washes away. A moment of silence stretches into a minute, and still he doesn’t say a word. Finally, he turns around and walks to the door, letting his actions speak for him instead.
Fuck, and how brilliantly their meaning hurts.
It’s what I wanted, to squash any common ground we could’ve dredged up between us, but I can’t help the tears that slip free and roll over my cheeks. My only consolation is that he’s not looking at me. He doesn’t deserve to see my destruction. I suppose destroying me has always been his end goal. It’s the reason he married me. And what an outstanding job he did.
Wrapping his big hand around the door handle, he pauses with his back to me. “The reason I came is to tell you that Sophie is going to school tomorrow. She’s going home with me.”
