Dishonorable

by Natasha Knight

  Dishonorable

  Natasha Knight

  Contents

  A Note from Natasha

  About This Book

  Prologue 1

  Prologue 2

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  Salvatore: a Dark Mafia Romance (Excerpt)

  Dominic: a Dark Mafia Romance (Excerpt)

  Benedetti Brothers Duet

  Beautiful Liar (Excerpt)

  Deviant (Excerpt)

  Retribution (Excerpt)

  Theirs To Take (Excerpt)

  Given to the Savage (Excerpt)

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Natasha Knight

  Copyright © 2017 by Natasha Knight

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  A Note from Natasha

  It’s taken me a long time to write this book. After writing Dominic, my brain was tired and I needed a little rest. Some books do that to you. Actually, at this point, I guess all books do that to me. That’s a good thing because I hope what I’m giving you is memorable every single time.

  Dishonorable came to me the way most of my stories come—with a very clear image of the hero, in this case, Raphael. Or, more accurately, his eyes. I knew going in that the story would be set in Italy and that the chapel and the cellar were important pieces, even though at first, I wasn’t sure why or what I was going to do with them. But one thing I’m learning is to trust that the story will come as it comes and that in the end, all those pieces I wasn’t quite sure about will fall into their place.

  Raphael is, in his own words, a “wrecked monster.” And to me, he is broken and some parts of him will never heal or stop hurting, but I think that’s okay. I have a favorite quote from The Tale of Despereaux and it goes like this: “Sometimes when a heart breaks, it can grow back crooked.” I guess in a way, that’s what happened to Raphael. But there’s this clichéd saying that love conquers all that I believe with all my heart. And I often think those nicks and cracks we all have only make us better able to feel, better able to love.

  So, without taking up more of your time, I want to say thank you for trusting me to take you on this ride along with Raphael and Sofia. I hope you feel every word, every emotion, every touch—especially the dirty ones :)—and that ultimately, you fall in love.

  x

  Natasha

  About This Book

  Sofia

  * * *

  I knew little of Raphael Amado’s history with my family, but when he turned up on our doorstep demanding restitution, my grandfather quickly conceded. That restitution? Me.

  * * *

  Six months later, on my eighteenth birthday, Raphael came for me. He stole me from my home, taking me to his Tuscan estate, where from the crumbling chapel to the burnt-down vineyard, to the cellar that haunted him, the past stalked him like a shadow. It waited for him, hid behind corners for him and trapped him at every turn.

  * * *

  As much as Raphael’s cruelty terrified me, his darkness seduced me. But in the end, it was his tenderness that devastated me.

  * * *

  Raphael

  * * *

  Sofia came to me like an offering. Like a virgin to be sacrificed at the altar. But truth was, her grandfather betrayed her. I guess we had that in common. He’d screwed me too.

  * * *

  I knew hate. I'd vowed vengeance. This was never supposed to be about anything else. But in the end, her innocence broke me. The very thing I would destroy, destroyed me.

  Prologue 1

  Sofia

  July 2016

  * * *

  I shuddered at the sweep of cold air that rushed me when the basilica doors opened. They carried a warning. An omen.

  My husband-to-be stood at the head of the aisle dressed in black from head to toe, opposite my bridal white.

  Like a funeral.

  Like my funeral.

  He was striking, even if I hated him. His victorious eyes devoured me whole without ever leaving my own, trapping me, predator and prey. I wondered if his mouth was watering, saliva wet on his tongue, as he imagined my submission, my yielding to him.

  I knew what was expected of me tonight. What he and my grandfather had worked into the contract that made me Raphael Amado’s property. We must consummate. My virgin blood must stain his sheets. My face burned with shame and fury, and each step reminded me that it was the devil I was about to marry. A monster, hiding beneath the most beautiful mask. And I knew as I walked toward my unchosen, unwanted destiny that I would never forgive my grandfather for his betrayal.

  Prologue 2

  Raphael

  July 2016

  * * *

  She stood like a vestal virgin at the doors, her golden gaze arctic as it swept down the aisle to collide with mine. She masked her thoughts well, but when she lay beneath me tonight, I would own her. I would know her pleasure. Her pain. I would possess every inch of her.

  She belonged to me already, even if she couldn’t stomach the idea. I wondered if I’d have to make her tonight. If I’d have to pry her legs apart and hold her down to soak my cock in her virgin’s blood. I needed to get that thought out of my head, though. It wouldn’t be right to stand before God and man with a fucking hard-on.

  I watched her as she commenced to walk down the aisle: stunning, striking—and on my twin brother’s arm. She’d refused her grandfather. Beautiful, that. He deserved only her hate.

  Her thick chestnut hair with its intricate braids had been arranged on top of her head. Even with the lace draping her pale face, I could see her eyes, set and accusing, burning into me, at odds with her soft, full lips and innocent, almost cherublike features.

  When she reached me, my brother lifted the veil from her face. The look they exchanged grated on my nerves. They’d become fast friends.

  Before handing her over to me, he pierced me with a look of clear disapproval. As if what I was doing was just for me. As if it weren’t for him too. As if I didn’t deserve everything I took, after what I’d been put through. His look accused me of stealing this virgin bride as if I were some sort of monster.

  Well, he hadn’t walked the last few years in my shoes, so he could go fuck himself.

  I shifted my gaze from my brother to Sofia, let it sweep down over her, seeing her in the dress I’d chosen. She only narrowed her shadowed eyes at me for that, but she didn’t fight, not when I covered her hand with mine, not when I drew her down to kneel before God. And when time came to promise to love, cherish, and obey—yes, I made sure to include the vow of obedience—Sofia spoke the words that would seal her fate and mine.

  I do.

  That was all it took, and she wa
s mine.

  And when we stood and faced each other as husband and wife, I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and drew her to me, claiming her mouth with my own, announcing to anyone who had any doubt at all, that I owned this woman.

  That she was mine.

  And what was mine, no man had better put asunder.

  Because I’d fucking kill any bastard who tried.

  Chapter One

  Sofia

  Christmas 2015

  * * *

  The Christmas holiday was my favorite time of year, and this year, because the twenty-fifth fell on a Saturday, St. Sebastian’s Preparatory School gave us a full additional week off. This was my last year at the private school. As grueling as the work was and as uptight as the nuns could be, I kind of liked it. The old mansion that housed the girls was beautiful. The boys lived across the vast property in a second, more modern mansion. I loved the grounds, the thick woods that surrounded the remote school, and even the small room I shared with another student.

  My grandfather’s mansion, although beautiful, was very different from the school. Driving along the familiar curve of the winding driveway and seeing the large, white stone house come into view was always a bittersweet moment for me. It made me miss my parents, especially my mom. That never seemed to change.

  Then I saw my sister, Lina’s, face peering out the window. I wished Lina attended the same school as me. She had a gift for piano that I did not, though, so she went to a special music academy near home. She complained her poor fingers were worn-out, but I knew she loved playing.

  We came to a stop at the front door, behind an SUV I didn’t recognize.

  “Who’s SUV is that?” I asked Stephen, a man who’d worked for my grandfather ever since Lina and I had moved into his house.

  “Raphael Amado. He arrived early this morning, just an hour before I left to pick you up.”

  My school was about a two-hour drive from Grandfather’s house, and every Christmas, my grandfather sent Stephen to pick me up. Only once had my sister been allowed to come with him.

  “Raphael Amado?” I didn’t recognize the name.

  “Business associate.”

  He climbed out of the car, his glance toward the house more serious than it had been during our drive back.

  Before I could ask if everything was okay, the curtains moved, and Lina disappeared from behind the window. I guessed she was running to the front doors.

  “I’ll bring your bags, Sofia. Your sister’s waiting, so go on in. She was upset she couldn’t come with me as it is.”

  Stephen was always so much kinder than Grandfather. “I hope he’s not going to make her study during break.”

  He opened the trunk and unloaded my two suitcases, looking like his mind was elsewhere. I peered into the SUV and noticed a man sitting behind the steering wheel.

  “Your grandfather only wants what’s best for you both.”

  That was at times hard to believe.

  Smoke puffed out of the chimneys. The front door flew open, and Lina ran out, stopping just a few steps outside the door. She wore no shoes, and she stood there hugging her arms to herself in the freezing morning air. We were going to have a white Christmas.

  “Lina!” I ran up the stairs to meet her, hugging her tight. Her full name was Katalina Guardia, but we’d always called her Lina.

  “Finally! This house is completely boring without you.”

  We pulled back to look at each other. Lina, who at sixteen was almost two years younger than me, was nearly my height now.

  “Damn!” I shook my head, teasing.

  “Are you allowed to say that?” She winked.

  “You look wonderful. And so tall! You get that from dad.” Her smile drooped at the mention. Our parents had died on the day after Christmas eleven years ago. It had been their first trip alone together since having Lina and I, a sort of second honeymoon in Thailand. Their bodies had never been recovered after the tsunami.

  “Nah, you still have half an inch on me.”

  She shrugged her shoulder and pulled me inside.

  “It’s freezing. Come in.”

  “Sofia!”

  Marjorie came running around the corner. I gave her a huge smile and let her wrap me in her warm, soft hug. “Marjorie. I missed you so much.”

  “So did I, honey. So did I.”

  After our parents had died and Grandfather had taken us in, he’d hired several nannies. Marjorie had been the longest lasting of the bunch. When we were younger, she was our full-time, live-in nanny. She essentially raised us. Now she came three days a week. Lina had been three, nearly four, and I’d been five. I knew Lina’s memories of our parents were vague, if they existed at all, and as my own images of them had faded, Marjorie had become a source of warmth and compassion in an otherwise cold house.

  “Shh, now,” Stephen said, following us in and closing the door.

  Marjorie straightened and glanced at the study.

  “Why do we have to shush?” Surely Grandfather could forgive a few cries of happiness at our reunion. It had been months since I’d seen my sister or Marjorie.

  Lina gestured toward the closed study door. “He’s in a meeting with Mr. Amado. He’s been here three days this week, and Grandfather is very hush-hush about it all.”

  “Who is he?”

  “No idea. I haven’t even seen him. He won’t introduce me, and I swear he only lets him in and out of that room after making sure the coast is clear and I’m out of sight. Weird.”

  “That is weird.” I turned to Stephen. “I’ll just pop in and say hi.” Although one didn’t just pop in with my grandfather. He wasn’t like a normal grandparent. He pretty much kept his distance, and honestly, it always felt like we were more of an obligation, a burden to him. Well, at least I was. He seemed to have slightly more affection for Lina, and I knew their relationship had improved over the last four years.

  He shook his head. “I’m sure they’ll be out soon. Why don’t you and Lina have lunch first?”

  “Yes, come on. I’ve already set the table for the three of us,” Marjorie said.

  “See, weird,” Lina whispered in my ear. “We’ll be right there, Marjorie.”

  Marjorie nodded and headed toward the kitchen, and Stephen disappeared somewhere. Lina led me into the living room where the huge Christmas tree stood ready to be decorated. I smiled a little when I saw the open boxes of ornaments, recognizing them, liking the familiarity of the decorating ritual Lina and I had started together after our parents’ death. She was too young to remember, but I had memories of decorating the Christmas tree with our parents in our little house. It was always a bittersweet memory.

  Lina took my hand. “Let’s have lunch. I want to hear everything. You know, boys, gossip, who’s doing who. Although I guess you’ll have to tell me that later when we’re alone.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  I rolled my eyes. “There isn’t much to tell. The nuns are like freaking police.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m locked up in here most days with tutors and piano teachers. Make something up if you have to.”

  “Well, there is this one girl…” I started as we headed into the kitchen.

  After lunch, Lina started to unpack the ornaments while I went up to my bedroom to change clothes. They’d still made us wear our uniforms this morning, even though most of us were just going home for the holiday. I felt sorry for the few students who spent the holiday at school.

  I was at the top of the stairs when I realized I’d forgotten my purse in the foyer. I went back down to grab it, mostly wanting to check my phone for messages, when I heard a low, deep male voice I didn’t recognize.

  “It’s done, old man.”

  I froze at the bottom of the stairs. Old man?

  “You cannot do this.”

  My grandfather’s voice was stern, his tone angry, rattled. I’d never heard him like that before. He always spoke quietly, never raised his voice, didn’t need to. In his late sixties, he was
still a formidable man.

  My mother had been his only surviving child, and I remembered well the night I’d met my grandfather. Our parents had never brought us here, and Lina had been a baby when he’d come to our house one evening. I could almost feel the panic that had emanated from my mother. He’d stood in our hallway, too tall, too big almost for the place. When he’d looked at me, his hard expression had sent me scurrying to hide behind my mother’s legs. We’d been sent to bed, but I’d known the exact moment he’d left. I hadn’t been able to sleep that night, not for the sudden fear I felt at the sound of my parents arguing, my mother crying.

  “You did it, old man. You brought this on yourself.”

  I guessed the unknown person was Raphael Amado.

  Heavy footsteps echoed off the marble floors. I stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs. I couldn’t make myself move, even though I knew I should. Holding tight to the banister, I don’t think I breathed as the stranger came into view.

  He didn’t see me at first, he was so deep in thought. His face, tight and hard, betrayed his feelings, but he looked different than I’d guessed he would.

  “Amado!” my grandfather roared.

  Raphael Amado halted.

  I must have made a sound because he turned his head. When his eyes met mine, I gasped and clung to the banister. A cold chill iced my veins. He was younger than I expected. Much younger. And…beautiful. Never before this moment had I described a man as being beautiful. He was tall with dark hair and olive skin, with steely blue eyes that didn’t seem to fit with his dark features. They pierced me through, spiking me where I stood, so that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have moved. I don’t think I breathed for as long as he held my gaze. I could see the anger raging, burning behind the ice of those glacial eyes.