Fallen Angel: Broken Saint Duet Part Two

by E. M. Gayle

  "Let me remind you that anything less than the complete truth is unacceptable. Think hard here if your fashion show is worth the price of your lies."

  Dammit. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If I told him the truth, I could be opening a whole lot of trouble I couldn't handle. On the other hand, if I didn't tell him, he'd make sure my dreams went up in a fiery death. There was no doubt in my mind he could do it, too. His reputation aside, I'd seen firsthand how devious he could actually be. Or so I'd thought...

  "You're asking me to betray an oath I made to my father. To do so would only prove that I couldn't be trusted—to him and to you."

  He shrugged. "I don't care if you betray your father, although I do see your point. Once a traitor always a traitor. Isn't that right, Catherine?"

  The sound of my real name on his lips unnerved me. He probably knew more about my life than I did. So what was the point of this little exercise? Although the death of my first husband had not been made public, to my knowledge. My father had promised that while some would speculate, the facts would never surface. And he'd been right. I'd not heard even a whisper about it.

  "So you are going to hold it against me know matter which way I go? Damned if I do and damned if I don't."

  Again, his shoulder lifted in an expression that clearly said he didn't care about my predicament. "But what choice do you have? You can either give me the information I seek or live with the consequences."

  "You're an asshole." So much for manners.

  "That may be true, but it changes nothing." The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "Besides, why fight the inevitable? We both know you're going to tell me exactly what I want to know."

  I clenched the fingers on my right hand. I had never wanted to punch something so badly as I wanted to hit him in that moment. I would have given almost anything to wipe that smug smile off his face. I wasn't much for hate, but he inspired it. I hated him with every fiber of my being. He was going to toy with me until the bitter end, and I knew it.

  And yet...I was going to do exactly what he said I would.

  "My eighteenth birthday was a straight up nightmare." I had blocked most of the memories over the years, and even managed to stop seeing it in my nightmares. The one thing I had not done was forget. No. That night would forever be burned into my brain because it was the night I learned I, too, could be a monster.

  Just like my father.

  "Knowing your father, I would expect nothing less."

  I frowned. "Well, that makes one of us. When I was summoned to his office, just as the party got started, I had no idea what was about to happen. My mother told me nothing about what was expected of me."

  He slowly shook his head. "I will never understand parents who aren't willing to train their children. It's the least they can do."

  A near laugh burst from between my lips. "My mother cares about no one other than her sons. Well, and her reputation. She has been and always will be obsessed with her station in life and how she is perceived. It's disgusting. And if I hadn't already understood that, I certainly would have that night. She and my father ambushed me with a man they insisted I had to marry that night."

  "But you didn't marry. How in the hell did you get out of it?"

  He sounded genuinely curious and equally certain that I had never married. That was probably the bill of goods my father sold him. Not a virgin, but never married, either. Making a marriage to me seem more palpable. All lies.

  "I didn't. Although not for lack of trying. I negotiated, cajoled, and even begged for more time. Unfortunately, I might as well have been talking to a wall. My father refused to listen."

  "Excuse me?"

  Those two words came out on a vicious hiss of anger that didn't bode well for anyone, least of all me.

  "He forced me to marry that night, while my high school friends partied yards away inside the main house. I could hear the laughter and the music spilling from the ballroom as I vowed to love, honor and obey a stranger old enough to be my grandfather."

  Ronin's knuckles turned white from his grip on the back of the chair until I thought the wood would break. Instead, he jerked the chair free from under the table and flung it across the room. I jerked at the crack of it against the wall, feeling the rage as if it were my own. Absolutely nothing he could say or feel would be as bad as what I experienced that night. As my new husband climbed on top of our marital bed, and my fear paralyzed me from stopping him.

  "He's dead, isn't he?"

  I didn't have to ask who he meant. I nodded as the broken memories attempted to unfurl in my mind, reminding me one final time that my current fiancé was not the only monster in the room.

  Chapter 4

  Nova

  * * *

  Five years ago

  * * *

  "I can't do this," I whispered to my mother, who'd maintained a firm hold on me throughout the entire ceremony. "I'm not feeling well. I think I'm going to throw up."

  "Whining to me or your father is not going to work." My mother loosened her death grip on me, and I slumped back against the wall to stop myself from falling. I still couldn't believe this was happening.

  My father scowled at me as he moved closer and out of ear shot of the others. "I shouldn't have to repeat myself, but I can see you're not yourself, so I'll explain it once again. Mr. Onofrio was particularly interested in your specific attributes, and paid handsomely for the privilege of being your first. So our end of the deal is not fulfilled until he has broken the seal, so to say. However, it is a done deal. This will happen tonight if I have to tie you down to the bed myself."

  My stomach churned, threatening a true revolt. I didn't know why I thought more lies would change a thing, but they sprang forth nonetheless. If nothing else, I could make him hurt where it counted the most. His wallet.

  "If that's the case, then this definitely is going to be a problem. You probably should have verified the goods before you sold them, because I'm not what you seem to think I am."

  His eyes narrowed again to barely a squint. We both knew what I was talking about, but I could see he would need me to spell it out.

  "I'm not a virgin," I lied. "That ship sailed a while ago."

  I held perfectly still watching the anger build in my father. This was not the conversation I'd ever dreamt of having with the man I once called daddy. I might be young, but I knew enough to realize this moment was going to hurt for a very long time. He had sold me like a piece of furniture, and agreed to let this man do with me what he wanted.

  The muscle in his jaw clenched as I waited for the explosion. He turned away from me and looked at my mother. "Is this true?"

  "I have no idea. I've never seen her so much as talk to a boy. I would have told you." Her voice trembled with fear, and for a second, guilt washed over me. If he blamed her…

  "Those fucking terms were non-negotiable," he hissed. "You had better be lying, because if you're not, and that old bastard can tell the difference and demands a refund, you are fucked my dear. You will spend the rest of your life on your back, working off the debt to any man who will still touch you."

  My lip curled at the father I no longer recognized.

  The fact he only wanted a virgin bride sickened me. I was surprised he bothered to wait for one who was legal.

  "Let's not go there, yet. This information can be verified. It will only delay us for a short time." Then she turned to me. "If this is true, and you have shamed your family in this way, you will only get what you deserve."

  I shuddered to think what that might be. Not to mention the idea that he would have it verified.

  When he picked up his phone and pressed it to his ear, I didn't know what to do.

  "Francisco, I need you to bring my doctor to my office." He nodded at whatever his man said. "Yes. Right now."

  He ended the call and calmly placed his phone back on his desk. "If you are no longer a virgin as you say, then I will give you to Francisco. He has a fondness for whores he ca
n fuck and torture. Besides, I have another daughter…"

  My mother gasped, but my father did not spare her a glance. My own stomach churned. Carina was barely thirteen. He couldn't be serious. He wouldn't dare.

  I stared back at him. His eyes colder than I'd ever seen. He saw through my lies, but he also wanted me to know that whatever deal he'd struck with this man was more important than either of us. If it wasn't me, it would be her, and I couldn't let that happen.

  I hung my head in defeat. There was no way to fight this. He would get his way, one way or another.

  "I don't have to see a doctor," I whispered.

  "Excuse me?" He said. "I didn't hear you."

  I lifted my head and straightened my spine. If I was going to do this it wouldn't be as a meek little girl. "I said I don't need a doctor. I lied."

  "Catherine, what is wrong with you?" My mother shrieked. Before I saw it coming, she slapped my face with a resounding crack. Pain exploded in my cheek. Tears pooled in my eyes as I cupped my burning face.

  "Take her to the bedroom, and prepare her for her new husband. We have some final paperwork to sign."

  She grabbed me again and all but hauled me out of the chair and in the direction of the door. Betrayal of immeasurable magnitude filled every cell of my body as she dragged me into the other room and practically threw me in the direction of the bed.

  "You have been nothing but trouble since the day you were born. I tried to tell him you would not go quietly. But this is too far. Do you hear me? Too far."

  "Why do you hate me so much?" My mother had never been kind, but I'd never experienced anything quite like this. Not even when she whipped me for breaking one of her many rules.

  "You were my firstborn, and you should have been a boy. It was expected of me. Until your brother came along, you were a constant shame to me. After," she hesitated. "I no longer needed you."

  The cold shiver that rippled through me at her words threatened to tear me in two. It was one thing to assume she hated me, another to hear it as truth. Her heartless words did what her and my father's demands could not. In that moment, I gave up. I let the pain wash over me and numb me to the fear drowning me.

  I accepted this night as my fate, and promised myself if I could survive this marriage, then the next would be everything I could hope for.

  "What do you mean he had a heart attack?!" My mother shrieked. "That does not look like a heart attack."

  Her hysteria wasn't unwarranted. The virginal white gown she'd given me to wear for my wedding night was covered in my dead husband's blood.

  I'd woken with a headache and a desperate need to vomit. At first, I didn't know where I was or who I was with, until bits and pieces of the wedding and aftermath came back to me. I climbed out of the bed and ran into the bathroom, my mouth covered. By the time I finished retching and cleaned up, I didn't bother with a light since I had no desire to look myself in the eye. The shame of it all. I had no idea how I would ever look at myself again.

  It wasn't until I returned to the bedroom, I realized something was truly wrong. A sliver of light through the heavy curtains fell across the middle of the bed. I almost didn't look for fear I would throw up again.

  But the red, across my mother's pristine white sheets flashed in my peripheral vision, and I had to investigate. My body jerked backward at what I saw. The man. My husband. He was lying in the middle of the bed with a knife buried in the middle of his chest. Blood everywhere.

  I didn't remember screaming, but Francisco had come running. From there, it had all played out in slow motion as I stood, unable to move until my mother arrived, angry and vocal that she had been woken from her much needed beauty sleep.

  "Shut up," my father said, his face contorted in anger as well. "I said it was a heart attack, and that's what it was. The man was in his seventies and not exactly a picture of health. It will come as no surprise.

  "But—"

  "What, Sandra? Do you want me to tell everyone the truth? That your daughter murdered her husband on their wedding night? What do you think will happen after that?"

  My mother gasped.

  I closed my eyes and wished for death myself. Overnight, I'd gone from clueless teenager to this. A monster. Just like them.

  Just like them.

  "What are we going to do?"

  "We aren't going to do anything. If this ever comes up, we will claim he had a heart attack or a stroke."

  "But he has a hole—"

  "Enough. Don't make me repeat myself. Go back to the house and stay with the children, Sandra. I will handle this. Francisco!" my father bellowed toward the door.

  My father's most trusted foot soldier entered again, his face hard and unemotional. He was always at the ready to serve at my father's whim. "Yes, Sir?" he asked, looking only at my father, and behaving as if it was just another day of work at the office. I had no doubt whatever he was asked to do, he would, no questions asked.

  "Please see that my wife returns to the house and stays with the other children. Assign more security to watch over them and then come back here. As for—her,”—he practically spat the word at me with pure disgust, cementing the guilt and horror running through my mind. "Make sure she and this room are cleaned up and then escort her to the house. She is leaving today and will be taking only two suitcases with her. She is to be given a plane ticket to the city of her choice and one thousand dollars. Not a penny more. And then escorted to the airport. Is that understood?"

  His words finally caught my attention as I turned and stared at him in shock. What was he saying?

  "Don't look so surprised, Catherine. You can't stay here. You have brought immeasurable shame on your family and enough trouble for me that it will take me years to untangle it all. Be glad I'm not just throwing you out in the cold with nothing or worse, calling the police. A lifetime in jail would be no picnic, I assure you. No, count your blessings that I have given you this reprieve. You can have the freedom you wanted after all—for a while. When the time is right for your return, I will contact you, at which time, you will return and serve your family as intended.

  "I want at least five years.”

  Why that random number popped into my head I didn't know.

  "Dearest daughter, I don't believe you have any room to negotiate with me." He practically sneered his response, and it triggered something inside of me.

  "But don't I? If the truth came out, it would hurt you as much as me." Hopefully, the words came out like I intended. My brain couldn't seem to focus. I shook my head to try and clear it before I continued. "If I have to leave the only family I have known and can expect no support beyond what I leave the house with, then I think five years is more than fair." I clutched my hands behind my back so he wouldn't see them shake.

  He stared at me silently, his face pinched in anger while he seemed to think about my offer.

  "Five years, ten years, what does it matter?" my mother asked. "We don't need her anymore."

  Something vile formed on the end of my tongue, and by sheer will I held it in. My mother no longer existed to me, and I would not waste another minute of my time on her.

  "I'm the one who decides how this goes. Anything I give you is a gift you should thank me for. However, it is your birthday so I will grant this favor. You follow the rules, keep your mouth shut, and in five years, you will return, accepting whatever plans I have made for you with no argument. That's the deal—take it or leave it."

  As much as I wanted to throw his deal back in his face, what other option did I have? Five years was a long time.

  "I'll take it."

  "Of course you will. And while it may be difficult, I will find a suitable husband for you so that you can serve your family as intended.”

  My stomach twisted at my father's final words.

  "Let's go," Francisco touched my arm and I jerked away from him. He made my skin crawl.

  "I don't need any assistance," I said, twisting out of his reach. I turned one last time to the m
an I called father. "You've underestimated me, and you definitely don't know me."

  He glanced my way. "No, daughter. It is you who underestimates me. I am always one step ahead of my adversaries, and it would do you good to remember that."

  Instead of arguing with him further, I ran. Out of the godforsaken guest house, across the lawn, to my room, and then out the front door.

  Catherine Novaline Cullotta would be no more. For as long as he allowed, I would become someone else.

  And thus, Nova was born.

  Chapter 5

  Rock

  * * *

  After endless hours of fruitless searching, I decided to set up camp in the most likely place Nova would turn up. I'd exhausted every resource available to me to locate her and this was kind of my last chance effort. I'd been informed, rather reluctantly, by hotel management that there were several important pre-show events happening today, including a final rehearsal and some sort of VIP reception that included many members of the press. If she was able, Nova would not miss this.

  I spotted Zia's arrival backstage, her crew of waitstaff carrying in tray after covered tray that they set up on some of the tables just off stage. It made sense these events would be catered by the in-house restaurant and not some outside company. She and Nova were also close friends so I made a mental note to question her as soon as possible. Maybe she had some insight I could use to find Nova. Not that I wanted to alarm anyone unnecessarily that she might be missing if that was not the case.

  Her assistant had assured me that the woman in question would arrive shortly, but I couldn't decide if they'd actually been in touch, or if the woman's seemingly eternal optimism refused to believe anything else.

  Some of the other staff had already arrived early, and they scurried between this area and behind the curtain, placing tables and chairs as well as a myriad of glitzy decorations and flower arrangements. I didn't profess to be an expert on the fashion business, but I'd done enough research to know how critical this event would be to launch an artist's designs.