Another week to wait. Then I would leave this place. Go home.
Home.
Fuck.
What was that even? Where was that? Could vengeance be home? Because that fit. That was about all that fit.
I’d spent the last six years of my life behind bars. I’d killed my father with my bare hands. Although the ruling was overturned and the act declared one of self-defense, I knew better. I’d killed the man who should have protected us, who should have laid down his life to protect my mother, my brothers. Me. I killed my own fucking father after he destroyed us, after he set to flames the only good in our lives.
Between mine and Sofia’s upbringing, we had great fucking family values. Almost made me understand my brother, Damon’s, choice of vocation. Almost.
But that was neither here nor there.
Sadly for Marcus Guardia, I didn’t rot in jail. And now that my life was saved, I would destroy theirs.
See, there was one thing prison did to a man. It gave you time. And in that time, I figured out my priorities. The things that mattered. Used to be family for me. But that was ash now. Now, my priority was punishing those who had been the catalyst for what had happened. For what had led to the fire that destroyed anything worth living for.
But for all Marcus Guardia’s pomp and circumstance, he was a weak man. A coward. He’d all but offered up his granddaughter. Maybe he never thought I’d go through with it. Or maybe he just didn’t give a fuck about her. But he did give more than a fuck about the money. I’d be taking a hefty share of the precious Guardia fortune, and I’d determine what the hell happened to the winery.
My mind wandered back to Sofia. She was innocent. I knew that. And if I had any humanity left, I would have felt for her. For her predicament. All her life, that man had been using her, abusing the trust as her caregiver and legal guardian. Hers and her sister’s. And she didn’t have the first clue.
I knew he not only lived off the money that belonged to her and her sister—his allowance wouldn’t afford him the kind of luxury he was accustomed to—but he was outright stealing from his grandchildren. What in hell he planned to do with that money, I had no idea. The man had to be close to seventy by now. He couldn’t live long enough to spend it. Although snakes like him never seemed to die.
I knew Sofia was as much a victim as me, but she’d have to endure her future. Her fate was sealed the day mine was six years ago. And ultimately, I was the one who’d paid the heaviest price. Who’d lost so much. I was the one who’d had to live among violent, raging men who would rape you or kill you and eat their dinner off your broken body when they were done. Thank God, it had taken exactly one time, one incident, for them to learn not to fuck with me.
I accelerated and shook off my thoughts.
That was all in the past now. I never had to go back there again.
And if I didn’t sleep, not even the nightmares could touch me.
I arrived late to the graduation ceremony.
I could have waited for her to go home with her family. Given her a few precious hours with her sister. But I didn’t want to.
Sofia’s grandfather and sister sat in the second row behind the students. The sun beat down on me, the sky clear, the June heat stifling. I didn’t mind the warm temperatures. It was the humidity I could do without.
Tuscany would be hot, too, but not humid, not like Philadelphia.
Sofia glanced back to wave to her sister, but her smile faltered upon seeing her grandfather. I wondered how much her sister knew. She knew we’d be married. But had Sofia confided the details of this unholy union?
Had Sofia read what I’d given her, or had she’d buried her head in the sand, unable or unwilling to face and understand the reasons for her fate?
The ceremony commenced, and the hum of conversation quieted, leaving me to observe. I didn’t bother to take a seat, choosing to lean against a tree behind the last row of chairs instead. Speeches were made, people applauding at the appropriate time. All very dull, quite frankly. Sofia shifted in her seat, uncomfortable, or more likely, nervous. The students stood one row at a time as names were called.
Sofia’s turn approached, and I straightened once she stood and glanced back. This time, her gaze met mine. Even from this distance, I saw the strange, pale caramel-colored eyes widen, the delicate skin around them puffy and pink. She’d been crying.
She stumbled when the girl behind her moved faster than she did, but righted herself, looking straight ahead as she made her way to the platform. At the stairs, she stole one more glance. When they called her name, she slowly made her way across the stage, her legs seeming heavy as she took those last steps in freedom to shake the principal’s hand and take her diploma. The families clapped and cheered, and Sofia held her head high, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze, unable or unwilling to smile as she, instead of resuming her seat, walked toward me.
This was a surprise. I expected a meek, spineless, submissive girl.
I cocked my head to the side.
When she reached me, she took off her cap.
“Congratulations?” I said with a smile.
“Fuck you.”
My smile widened. Not meek at all. I should have seen the fire burning in those usually soft amber eyes.
“Is that what you walked over here to tell me? If it’s because you think I forgot your birthday—”
“You think what you gave me changes anything?”
I shrugged a shoulder “Not for me,” I said more casually than she probably liked.
“You think it makes any difference at all?”
“I don’t care, honestly. Like I said when I gave it to you, it’s truth.” I don’t think she heard me at all.
“Do you think I even believe your lies?”
“Again, I don’t much care.”
“Know that I will fight you every step of the way.”
“I hope so.”
“Sofia?”
Her sister approached us. Marcus Guardia stood in the distance, conversing with one of the nuns but watching us. His face revealed nothing, the smile false. He was, after all, an upstanding citizen. A philanthropist who gave generously to St. Sebastian and many other institutions.
If only they fucking knew.
My hands fisted at my sides. I wanted to kill the motherfucker.
“I will never make this easy for you.”
Sofia drew my attention back to her.
“I hope you won’t.”
Lina’s cautious gaze fell on me. Even if this was the first time I’d seen them together, I would have known them to be sisters. Apart from eye color—Lina’s were a mossy green—and Lina’s dark hair, the similarity of their features was striking.
“Sofia.”
This time, Lina physically turned her sister toward her. Sofia dragged her angry gaze from mine and wiped the backs of her hands across her eyes.
Good. At least she knew what to expect. Today’s tears would be the first of many. I had years of hate to work through, and she’d be my whipping girl. Literally, if she wasn’t careful.
“Hey.” Lina took her sister’s face in her hands and held her forehead against Sofia’s.
I watched them, curious. My brothers and I weren’t close. Damon being my twin, we had a special bond, even now, even through all the hatred and anger, but we weren’t like them.
I snorted, shaking my head.
“Okay?” Lina asked.
Sofia nodded. “I have to go.”
“I know.” Lina released her and stepped back, reaching around her own neck to unclasp the necklace she wore.
Sofia shook her head. “Mama gave that to you.”
“Shh.”
I noticed they each had tears glistening in their eyes. She wrapped the necklace around Sofia’s throat and clasped it. Sofia touched the pendant.
“I changed the picture,” Lina said quietly.
“Christ, you act like you’ll never see each other again,” I said.
Both sisters
turned to me.
I raised up both hands, palms up in mock apology.
“I don’t want you here,” Sofia said to me.
“That’s too bad.”
She fisted her hands and narrowed her eyes, and I knew it took all she had to say what she said next.
“Let me say good-bye to my sister.” She gritted her teeth. “Please.”
My eyebrows rose. “Wow. A please.”
She pursed her lips. “Just go to the car and give me one fucking minute.”
“Do the nuns allow that sort of language?” I taunted.
“Sofia.”
Her sister tried to draw her away, but Sofia held her ground.
“I hate you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.”
I shrugged a shoulder.
“Go,” she ordered, pointing to the car.
I laughed at first, but my face hardened in the next instant, and I stepped close enough that she drew back. “Speak to me like that again, and you’ll be sorry,” I hissed.
“I’m already sorry,” she said, her voice trembling.
Lina caught her hands, forcing Sofia to look at her. I leaned away.
“Sofia?” Lina’s eyes misted.
Sofia shook her head and tried for a smile. “I’ll be fine. It’s okay.”
“Call me every day, okay?”
I could see the effort it took for Sofia to hold back her tears.
“We have a flight to catch,” I said, checking my watch.
They hugged each other tight, and it was Sofia who broke away, sniffling.
“Do you want to tell your grandfather good-bye?” I asked, although I pretty much knew the answer.
“No,” Sofia said. “I’m ready.”
“I hope for your sake, you are.”
Chapter Four
Sofia
Inside the envelope Raphael had given me were three sheets of paper, pieces taken from a larger document. When I’d asked him what it was, he’d said one word—truth. But it couldn’t be that. There was no way. Grandfather wasn’t that hateful. No matter what, we were his family, his only remaining family.
The night I’d first met my grandfather as a child had also been the night we’d celebrated my mother’s twenty-first birthday. The timing of his visit made perfect sense, now that I knew the details of my own inheritance. For as all-powerful as I’d always believed my grandfather to be, this one thing he could not control. At least not wholly. Because on my mother’s twenty-first birthday, she received majority control of Guardia Winery. My grandfather was merely given an allowance that she dictated.
One thing I hadn’t known was that my grandfather had taken my grandmother’s last name. She was Sofia Guardia, my namesake. He had never been head of the family. Not really. Even if he made it seem like he was. I guessed when my grandmother had died before I’d even been born, he’d continued to receive his allowance and lived in the family home, but only because of my mother. She was the heiress. He had nothing without her.
And now that she was gone, he had nothing without Lina and me.
That’s what Raphael had given me. History. History and proof of my grandfather’s dishonesty. He was stealing from us. He’d stolen from my mother, and now was stealing from Lina and me. He even had an offshore account into which he’d transferred sums of money too small to be noticed yet large enough to sustain a lavish lifestyle. Why did he need it, though? He already had everything he wanted, didn’t he?
My mother running away meant my grandfather had lost control, at least for a little while. It was natural he would be our guardian once our parents died. And with us, Grandfather had taken back the control he’d lost.
As we settled into our first-class seats, I glanced at the man sitting beside me. This stranger I would be married to. A man I would have to live with. I didn’t know what was expected of me. The marriage had to be in name alone. I represented half of the Guardia fortune for him. On my twenty-first birthday, I would inherit. And he would steal that inheritance, just like my grandfather had been doing all my life.
What would happen to me after the three years?
For the past six months, I’d spent all my free time learning as much as I could about Raphael Amado and the Amado family. I knew his age, twenty-four, and that he had two brothers, one a twin. His family had two homes, one in the states, and a second in Italy, where they spent most of their childhood. His mother was Italian, his father American, and Raphael and his brothers had been born in America. I knew that six years ago, he’d lost his mother in a fire intentionally set by his father at the house in Tuscany. And I knew that a few months after that fire, Raphael had been charged with the murder of his father. He’d spent six years in an Italian prison for it, and only eight months ago had the ruling been overturned and Raphael’s name cleared.
He’d wasted no time in coming for me, had he?
But what did my grandfather owe him? That, I did not know.
I learned his father had been a criminal with ties to some bad people. I knew he’d been accused of arson, but he’d died before he could be tried. Raphael’s mother had been killed in that fire, and I knew in my heart that her death, and perhaps the way she’d died, had been the thing that had brought about Raphael’s rage. It had been what had caused the violence that precipitated his father’s death.
But looking at him now, I didn’t see violence.
I had to be careful, though. I couldn’t romanticize this thug. Couldn’t allow myself to be fooled by his appearance.
“Are you going to stare at me the entire flight?” he asked without looking up.
I blinked, realizing I’d been doing just that and it had not gone unnoticed.
“What does my grandfather owe you?”
He folded his paper and turned to me. “He didn’t mention anything?”
He acted so casual, but I knew he was not. “You know he didn’t.”
“Did you understand what was in the envelope?”
“I’m not stupid, Raphael. I understand what you want me to believe.”
“That your grandfather is a thief?”
I shook my head, not quite sure yet. Still processing. “The newspapers said you killed your father.”
He remained so still, it was as though he were carved from stone. It took him a full minute before he cleared his throat and spoke, and I knew there was more here than what I’d read online.
“Did they?”
I searched his eyes, like deep and stormy seas. Tumultuous waters that could pound me against jagged cliffs and decimate me.
“You told me you were giving me truth the other night. I’m asking for it now.” I paused. “You owe me the full story—”
“I owe you nothing,” he said calmly.
“Did your father set the fire? Was it proven?”
“The media loves to hype this shit up, don’t they?”
He flipped the paper open again and turned away from me, effectively dismissing me.
“You blamed him for your mother’s death,” I said, although I wasn’t sure. I’d only read newspaper articles and snippets of public record, most of which were missing.
“Does that absolve me, then? A life for a life?”
“I don’t know that you’re seeking absolution, Raphael.”
He looked at me again and bowed his head. “Clever girl.”
“The trial records have gone missing. I don’t know anything more.”
“Maybe that’s for the best.”
“You’d lost your mother a few months earlier. Your father was accused of the fire that nearly destroyed not only her home, but her entire legacy. Wiped out generations of history.”
“Don’t make a saint out of me. I’m not that.”
“I know you’re no saint. I just want to know what my grandfather has to do with this.”
He folded the paper again and this time, set it in the seat pocket. “If you’re so curious, then why didn’t you ask him?”
>
Because I was afraid of his answer.
I dropped my gaze.
“Don’t you have more relevant questions? Questions that pertain to you, your fate. My expectations of my wife?”
Wife.
I knew where he was going.
“Do I get a say in any of it?” I asked without thinking. “The contract,” I clarified, looking at him. “The marriage.” I faltered. “What will…” I cleared my throat. “Will it be in name only?” I forced the words.
His gaze swept over me, and a small smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “You surprise me. What exactly has your dirty little mind been conjuring up, Sofia?”
I gasped, drawing back.
He smiled fully. “Well, what? I’m definitely curious about this.”
“No!”
As I felt the color drain from my face, the flight attendant came to take our drink orders.
“Champagne?” he asked.
“I’m eighteen,” I reminded stupidly.
He smiled. “Vodka, then.”
Was he joking? He turned to the server.
“Sparkling water for my fiancée and a whiskey neat for me, please.”
Fiancée.
“Going to Italy to get married?”
Raphael smiled nodded.
“Oh, how romantic! Congratulations!”
She must have seen the look on my face because she quickly cleared her throat and was gone.
“I’m not a beast, Sofia,” Raphael said, all playfulness gone from his features.
“But what you’re going to do to me…”
“I spent the last six years of my life behind bars. Your grandfather’s greed destroyed my family and almost destroyed me. Think about that instead of your petty little life for a change.”
“I—” I what? What did I want to say? That my life wasn’t petty? That I mattered? That I did think of other things and not only of myself?
“Ask me what it was like to be locked up for killing a murderer. Ask me what it was like to spend six years in prison only to have the verdict overturned.”
“Raphael—”
“Ask me.”
“I don’t need to. I imagine it was terrible.”
Dishonorable Page 3
