Unholy Intent

by Natasha Knight

  “What the fuck is wrong with the Di Santo men thinking women should do as they’re told? Do you know what year it is?”

  “Cute.”

  Before I have a chance to scoop up the blade, he does. He closes it and tucks it into his pocket.

  “You’ll get that back when we leave. If you’re good.”

  “That’s mine!” I charge him.

  He catches me easily, holding me at arm’s length. “No, actually, it’s Michela’s. She only lent it to you.”

  “So I could protect myself against Damian, but maybe the one I need protecting from is you!”

  He plants me on a chair and leans into me, hands tight around my wrists. “Do I need to tie you down?”

  “Lucas,” my uncle says in a tone that used to warn me when I was a child. It has no impact on Lucas, though.

  “Because I might like that,” he says, eyes falling to my lips as he licks his. “Maybe you will too.”

  “That’s enough,” my uncle says.

  “Damian’s going to kill you.”

  “Is that after you explain making plans to meet me. Getting into a car with me. I know how he punished Michela. What do you think he’ll do to you?”

  “He wouldn’t do that!”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  He studies my face curiously, then exhales. “You know what? You’re right. I actually don’t think he would.”

  I stay in my seat, his comment unsettling, not comforting. Although I’m sure his intention isn’t to make me feel comfortable.

  “I was right,” he says.

  “Right about what?”

  “That you have become a weakness to my dear, heartless brother. A chink in his armor.” He resumes his seat. “Now let me clarify some things here, Cristina. First of all, I haven’t lied to you. I’ve answered you truthfully. I am not your enemy. I have no reason to be.”

  “Did you know I was out in the woods that day?”

  “Did I know you followed me? Yes.”

  “And you left me out there?”

  “What would you have had me do? Drag you back to the house and lock you in your room? That’s my brother’s game.”

  “Except that this isn’t a game. It’s my life.”

  He doesn’t comment.

  “Did you set the fire?” I ask.

  He snorts. “No, I did not.”

  “Did you help the people who did?”

  “See, you’re not asking the right questions.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That fire doesn’t have anything to do with you. That has to do with Damian. He needs to learn not to cross certain people.”

  “Is he in danger?”

  “Would you care?”

  Would I?

  “Are you ready for me to tell you why your uncle is here? Although, honestly, I’m starting to question his worth.”

  I swallow because I know this is going to be bad.

  “I’ll be honest, when I found out my brother’s plan, well, it surprised even me, actually,” Lucas continues. “It’s cruel, really. But maybe his twisted brain makes it out to be merciful.” He shakes his head.

  I just stare at him, my heart racing, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  “Do you know why Damian married you, Cristina?”

  I’ve wondered about this. About his answer when I’ve asked it. It seemed too altruistic for him to have done it to protect me without having something to gain from it himself.

  “I know you received the bullshit about family rules and protecting you and blah, blah, blah and how noble would that make him if only it were true.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is he protecting you now? From me?”

  I glare at him.

  “The Valentina Foundation, the Di Santo family has become heavily invested. He wouldn’t want to let that go.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “What are the rules, Cristina? Who inherits the foundation and everything that comes with it?”

  I glance up to find my uncle watching me with that same look he sometimes had when I was little. I never could figure out what it meant, but I hated it. It made me feel cold and unwelcome and mostly just bad. It feels the same now, but I think I’m starting to understand its meaning.

  I think it’s a sort of hate.

  When I return my attention to Lucas, he’s watching me curiously. I school my features as best I can. This man is dangerous.

  Both of them are.

  Hell, all of them are.

  “It’s just a charitable organization. There isn’t much for personal gain,” I say.

  “It’s a front. I think you can stop lying to yourself about that part already. But I’m not interested in that right now. Tell me who inherits.”

  “Firstborn.”

  “Right. And when your older brother died, who was next in line?”

  “Me.”

  “And after you?”

  “If I have kids, then my kids.”

  “And if you don’t have kids?”

  “Stop fucking around. Just tell her,” my uncle says as I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

  “To whom does the foundation go if you were to meet an untimely end—or a timely one—and you did not have a successor?”

  I look up to meet my uncle’s hard eyes. “My uncle’s line,” I tell Lucas. “Him, then Liam.”

  “Unless you have an heir. Don’t you think Damian would make a good daddy? Although he does share some of what I wouldn’t consider Dad’s best qualities.”

  My brain works hard to process, to make sense of what is senseless.

  “No. You’re wrong,” I finally say, unable to come to terms with what I think he’s saying. I look up at my uncle. “He’s lying.”

  My uncle mutters a curse and runs a hand through his hair. It’s Lucas who continues talking.

  “Could be, I guess. Although my dear brother didn’t deny it.”

  I shake my head and stand. “That’s not right. And even if that’s what he wanted I won’t get pregnant. I’m on the pill, and he knows it. He just refilled my prescription even. That’s not what he wants from me.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “Please tell me you’re not that stupid.”

  Fuck.

  I hug my arms to myself, suddenly chilled.

  “What does he want then, Cristina?” Lucas asks me.

  I look away. I don’t know what Damian wants. All I know is that he promised to let me go when he has it. His exact words.

  “I have a doctor friend. I’ve already spoken to her. She’ll give you a birth control shot that’ll be good for three months.”

  “What?”

  “Birth control shot. You’ve heard of those?”

  “Of course. It’s not…” I push my hands into my hair, then close my eyes to think. “I don’t believe you. You’re lying.” I look up at him. “And I don’t trust you.”

  “But you trust your uncle, right?”

  I look at my uncle. “So that’s why he’s here? In order for you to have some backing? And you think because he’s here I’ll just take your word for it? News flash, Lucas. He betrayed me too, and he’s blood.”

  Lucas sighs. “I’ll be honest with you since no one else is. Yes, you’re right. Your uncle is taking care of his interests—”

  “She’s my brother’s daughter. I’m as invested in protecting her—”

  “I don’t think you are, Uncle,” I cut him off.

  He looks surprised to hear it. “I don’t want to see you hurt, Cristina. No matter what.”

  “You don’t have to take my word for any of this,” Lucas says. “I did think having your uncle here would help make my case, but that was clearly a mistake. Although at least I know you’re not as naïve as I assumed.”

  “You don’t know anything about me, Lucas.”

  “Just think about it. Think about what makes sense.” He finishes his drink, sets the empty glass down, and stands. “So, Damian
refilled your prescription? That was nice of him. Damian is such a nice guy. Always doing things for other people and never thinking of his own personal gain.”

  Give me what I want, and I’ll let you go.

  I stand. “I want to leave.”

  “Suit yourself. Just remember what I said the next time my brother fucks you.”

  I flinch like he slapped me.

  “You’re lying.”

  “What reason would I have to lie? What would I gain by lying about this?”

  “What do you have to gain by telling me?”

  “What have I got to lose?” Lucas says with a shrug of his shoulders. “Let’s go.”

  Give me what I want, and I’ll let you go.

  He never told me what he wants. I keep coming back to this.

  “Wait,” my uncle says.

  I turn to him.

  “Cristina, let him take you to the doctor. At least we can delay what Damian wants until we can figure out how to get you away from him.”

  “You didn’t try to stop him before. Why would you now?”

  “Because he has me,” Lucas says. “Damian could have crushed him before. But with my backing and the backing of the others that my brother is stupid enough to challenge, your uncle is in a much better position than he was. And yes, he is doing this out of self-interest. But in this case, his self-interest lines up with your safety.”

  I look at the both of them, but my mind is racing.

  “Either way, even when blood betrays you, you must trust in greed. Your uncle doesn’t want the foundation going to Damian. He’d lose all this.” Lucas waves an arm around.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to gauge what’s true and what’s manipulation.

  “Let me know where you want me to take you, the doctor or back to the café,” Lucas says.

  “Cristina,” my uncle steps forward. “Let him take you to her office at least. You can see for yourself that she’s a legitimate doctor. You may not have another chance.”

  I study him, try to see the man who raised me, but I can’t. I turn to Lucas.

  “I’ll decide when I see her.”

  “Good enough. Let’s go.”

  I follow him to the apartment door.

  “Cristina,” my uncle calls out.

  I turn to him. “I’m trying to do what’s best for you, for the family.”

  “No Uncle, you’re doing what’s best for you. Let’s at least be honest about it.”

  I don’t wait for him to answer but walk out the door and into the elevator to the garage, then to a different car than the one we came in. The windows on this one are tinted too. That’s the only similarity.

  “Why aren’t we taking the car we came in?”

  “Just a precaution in case we were followed.”

  We get into the car and pull out of the garage into busy Manhattan traffic.

  He switches on the radio, humming along to a country song. Country. Didn’t think he’d be into that. I look over at him and I think about how I don’t know this man at all.

  But how much do I know Damian?

  I can only count on one thing. They are my enemies. They are all my enemies. Even my uncle.

  But getting a birth control shot would buy me time just in case. If Lucas is lying, then it won’t hurt anything. But if he’s not and this is truly Damian’s plan it could save me.

  Dr. Laura Jones has a private practice on the seventh floor of a building midway between the apartment and the café. Lucas walks in with me, tells the receptionist his name and asks to see Dr. Jones. We bypass the women in the waiting room and are ushered straight into an empty office.

  Dr. Jones walks in not five minutes later. She’s in her mid-thirties, I guess, and seems to know Lucas.

  “Lucas tells me you’d like a birth control shot, and mentioned the circumstances are unique, which is why he’s brought you to me.”

  I nod. “How long does it last?”

  “Three months.”

  I bite my lip.

  “If you’re unsure,” she says, glancing at Lucas. “We can do it another time.” She checks her watch. “I have a full schedule. You can always make an appointment and return when you’re ready.”

  “No.” I won’t have a chance to return and I can’t get pregnant. I look at Lucas, try to gauge if he’s being honest. What can he have to gain by lying to me about something like this? “I’ll do it now,” I tell the doctor.

  “All right. Just take a seat and roll up your sleeve.”

  Lucas stands against the wall, watching as I do what the doctor says. Once the injection is prepared, she turns back to me.

  I look at the needle. “That’s big.”

  She smiles like you would to a child. “It won’t hurt much. I’ll numb the area.”

  A few minutes later, my arm is numbed, and she pushes the needle into it. It still hurts, but I bite back the pain. I feel the solution going in, and all the while, I wonder if I’m not making a mistake. Part of me hopes Lucas is the liar because I don’t want it to be Damian.

  “All done,” the doctor says, and I glance at the injection site, which has reddened. I roll down my sleeve and slip off the table, glad it’s over.

  “Thank you,” I tell her as Lucas opens the door. I don’t talk to him on the ride back.

  When we get to the café, he double parks again. “It was fun. Let’s do it again soon,” he says.

  “Let’s not.” I slip out of the car.

  “Cristina,” he calls out before I’ve closed the door.

  When I turn back, he’s got the switchblade in his hand.

  “I promised to give this back if you were good. You may need it yet.”

  I take the knife, but before I can pull my hand away, he grabs it. His grip is firmer than I expect. His expression different than I’ve ever seen it. Hard but something else too. Something old. Something wounded. It’s at odds with the man I’m coming to know.

  “Take care with him, Cristina. He breaks everything he touches.”

  When he releases me, I back up a step. Feeling sick, like I want to throw up, I walk toward the café’s entrance. If what he says is true, then is Damian trying to get me pregnant already? How cruel would that be? The cruelest. And I’d just told Liam that he isn’t. That he doesn’t hurt me.

  What happens if he succeeds? What happens after? Would he really keep his promise and let me go? Send me away?

  And what? Steal my baby from me?

  Lucas drives off when I open the café door.

  I find Cash at a table. He’s looking back at me. I shake my head, not entering. I let the door close. Hugging my arms around myself, I turn around and begin the long walk to the library, my one safe haven even if it is for just a little while. I have no doubt Damian’s double-crossing soldier is following.

  23

  Damian

  When I’m back in the penthouse, I find Cristina in the master bathroom sitting in the tub, head back and eyes closed. I know why she doesn’t open them when I find the bottle of vodka on the floor beside the arm hanging out of the bath.

  Steam rises from the circular tub. I walk over, sit on the edge. Putting one finger in, I test the temperature.

  She blinks her eyes open, appearing startled but then resigned as she reaches for the bottle, drinking straight from it.

  I raise an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  She glugs another generous swallow.

  I take the bottle from her. I’d just opened recently and it’s about half gone.

  “That’s mine,” she says.

  “You’ve had enough.”

  “No, I haven’t. But I’m getting there.” She closes her eyes and leans her head back again.

  “Is this about last night?” I ask her, standing to take off my jacket. Rolling up my shirt sleeve, I reach in to pull out the plug.

  “Hey. I’m taking a bath.” She straightens, getting on her knees to search for the plug. She slips, splashing w
ater onto the bathroom floor. I catch her before she smashes her face against the edge of the tub. She pulls away from me and attempts to plug the drain again.

  “You’re drunk. Come on. Out.”

  I grab a towel and unfold it. I notice the two months’ worth of birth control containers lying open on the counter.

  “What are you doing?” I ask her.

  She looks at them then at me. “What are you doing?” she slurs.

  All right. “Come on. Out, Cristina.”

  “No. Go away.”

  “Well, if you’re not going to come out, then I’ll come in.”

  “I don’t want you.”

  “No, that’s clear.” I slip off my shoes and clothes. I guess she doesn’t believe I’ll do it until I’m in the tub, sliding behind her, holding onto her so she’ll stay put.

  “I don’t want you here, Damian. I mean it.”

  “Why? This is nice.”

  “You’re a jerk, that’s why. Let me go.”

  “Listen—”

  “I don’t want to listen. Let go. You’re hurting me.”

  I’m holding her upper arm. My grip isn’t hard, but there’s a bruise forming on the skin under my fingers. I lean closer, brushing my thumb over the slightly raised, reddened skin.

  Shit. Did I do that?

  “Listen,” I say, moving my hand off the sensitive spot.

  “I really don’t want to hear any more of what you have to say.”

  “You haven’t heard anything yet, Cristina.”

  She turns huge violet eyes to me. What I see inside isn’t what I expect. Anger, I get. Being pissed at me, wanting to hurl things at me, I get. I was a dick last night. But what I see is hurt.

  “Well, I don’t want to hear at all.”

  “Look, I shouldn’t have done what I did last night. Shouldn’t have treated you like that. I’m sorry, okay?”

  She sniffles, wiping the back of her hand across her face. “Not okay.”

  “Hey,” I say, pulling her in to me.

  I’m not sure if she yields to me, if it’s that she’s drunk, or just that the tub is slippery, but she lies back against my chest so I can wrap my arms around her. She’s so light. So small. And a part of me is scared that my brother’s right. That I’m going to break her.