Dishonorable

by Natasha Knight

  “Worse than you can imagine. Worse than I could have imagined.”

  I searched his eyes, which had lost all their cockiness, all their coldness. There was room for neither, not with the pain that filled them. It was that moment that shifted things for me. That made me see him as something else, something other than a beast.

  “Don’t make me pay for it. Please,” I said, my voice as small as I felt.

  He only watched me, and I could see the battle behind his eyes. This war of good and evil.

  “Don’t make a saint out of me. I’m not that.”

  I shook my head at the memory of his words. No. I couldn’t do that. He’d warned me himself. I was an inexperienced girl. Raphael was a man. A man who’d killed. I was probably child’s play to him. A bore. He would probably just fuck with me to pass the time.

  “Why did you come to see me at the school? Why did you tell me about my grandfather stealing from us?”

  “Because it was truth. That’s one thing you’ll get with me, Sofia. Truth. I won’t lie to you.”

  “So what? I mean, it doesn’t make it easier.”

  “This isn’t about being easy. There is no easy.”

  “Do you hate me that much?”

  “I don’t hate you. I hate your name,” he snapped.

  His sudden anger startled me. The attendant returned with our drinks and dropped off a dinner menu. I took mine but didn’t bother to look at it. I knew he didn’t either, even though his attention seemed riveted on the thing.

  “The last time we saw each other, you told me to forget what had happened. I told you it’s not an option. That doesn’t mean I don’t want it to be,” he said. “There are things I would give years of my life to forget, Sofia.”

  Those last words he spoke so quietly, they made me stop. Made me study him, his face, his eyes, which he kept on the menu rather than looking at me. Part of me understood. I understood why he felt he had to do this. It didn’t make it right, not by a long shot. And I’d still be the one punished for sins I’d not committed. I’d be the one—

  He cut off my thoughts when he turned to me suddenly.

  “It doesn’t have to be terrible for you. Three years, then you’re free. A marriage in name only. I’ll even make sure you’re not out on the street afterward, if you’re a good girl.”

  The blue of his eyes shone. So much emotion swirled like a deadly twister behind them.

  “What if I say no?” I asked.

  It took him a moment to answer, and he only did so after studying my face, my eyes.

  “You already said yes.”

  “I can change my mind.”

  “This conversation is a waste of time. You won’t change your mind, because if you do, I will destroy your family. Even if you don’t care that your grandfather will rot in jail, you do care about your sister.”

  He said it with such spite, such hate, I physically felt nauseous at his words.

  “You and Lina are very close.”

  It was such an abrupt change of subject, it surprised me. “I love her. I will do anything to protect her.” I dropped my gaze to my lap.

  “I know. That’s what makes this so damn easy.”

  The flight attendant returned to take our dinner order, and the man I glimpsed, the one beneath the hate, vanished.

  “I’m not hungry,” I said, handing back the card.

  “She’ll have the steak. We both will.”

  “I said I’m not hungry.”

  “You need to eat.”

  “I’m fine.

  “Steak,” he repeated to the attendant.

  “I don’t eat red meat.”

  He looked at me like he didn’t believe me but went along with it. “Make it the chicken for my fiancée, then. And another drink for me, please. I’m obviously going to need it.”

  She nodded and walked away.

  “I’m not hungry. I won’t eat it.”

  “You will. You’ve become too skinny.”

  “Anticipation of my future.”

  “Ouch.”

  “If it’s true, what you said my grandfather is doing—stealing from us—” To say it out loud made it real. “Can I protect Lina’s inheritance?”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “I can help you, or I can hurt you. Choose the battles you fight with me carefully.”

  What the hell did that mean?

  “Tell me something.” He leaned in close to whisper. “Pretty girl like you. You must have had boyfriends at that school?”

  All seriousness had vanished. He was cocky, arrogant, asshole Raphael again. I glared at him then shifted my gaze out the window at the darkening sky. We’d be flying overnight.

  “No boyfriends?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Come on, it’s a long flight. And it’ll be a long three years.”

  “It wasn’t allowed. Besides, the boys at school didn’t interest me.”

  “I can see that. You seem older than your age. You need a man to manage you.”

  I faced him. “And you think you’re that man?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

  “I do.”

  I licked my lips and sipped my drink. His gaze fell to my mouth, and the look in his eyes made my belly flutter, my face flush with heat.

  “I’ve seen how your body reacts to me, Sofia,” he said in a low, menacing whisper. “Did you know arousal even has a scent? Yours is lovely. Soft. Virginal, perhaps?” he asked, searching.

  I didn’t answer, but I probably didn’t have to, not with how hot I suddenly felt.

  Raphael’s eyebrows rose, and he set his hand on my knee and slid it up along my inner thigh. I should have worn jeans. A big, baggy pair of mom jeans. Instead, I had on a cute summer dress.

  I pushed his hand away. “Don’t touch me. My body doesn’t react in any way to you.”

  “I beg to differ.” He tickled the back of my knee. “Even now, your pupils are dilating, your nipples are hard, you’re licking your lips. And…”

  He brought his mouth to my ear, then tilted his face to kiss the throbbing pulse at my neck, making my breath catch.

  “Your heart is beating like crazy,” he whispered.

  I shuddered. His breath sent goose bumps down the back of my neck and heat between my legs.

  I shoved him away as the attendant came to set our individual tables for dinner. He smiled at me, obviously enjoying my discomfort, and when the hostess left, he leaned in again.

  “Have you ever had an orgasm, Sofia? Did you slide your fingers inside your panties and make yourself come while lying in your bed at night, pressing your face into the pillow to muffle your moans of pleasure?”

  He licked his lips and picked up his glass, looking at me over the rim.

  “Have you ever felt a man’s touch?” He smiled. “The look on your face is telling me no. Don’t tell me I’m right. That you’re a vir—”

  “Stop!” I cried out, trying to jump from my seat but caught halfway with the seat belt fastened across my lap.

  “I don’t think they want us to get up yet, honey.”

  Heads had turned to watch us, watch me. Embarrassed, I sat back down. “I hate you, Raphael Amado.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I don’t care, Sofia Guardia. That’s the beauty of this.”

  Chapter Five

  Sofia

  By the time we landed in Florence, we’d been traveling for over thirteen hours. The drive to the Amado property took another hour and fifteen minutes. Located outside of Florence near a town called San Gimignano, the house—or rather estate—came into view only a few minutes after we’d driven off the country road and through a large entrance, where tall iron gates stood open and stone walls separated the property from the road.

  We sat in the back of a dark sedan with tinted windows. As the driver took us through, I looked back at the dragons on top of the two pillars. Each was posed differently, one perched on its haunches, the other ready to take flight with its wings wide. Both had eye
s that seemed to follow me.

  I shuddered and glanced at Raphael, who had a strange look on his face as he surveyed the land, the swelling hills, the green grass, the vast seeming acres of land.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled.

  That was maybe the first authentic smile I’d seen from him.

  “It’s called Villa Bellini. It’s been in the Bellini family—my mother’s family—for centuries. It now belongs to me.”

  “Not your brothers too?”

  He shook his head. “Always goes in whole to the firstborn.”

  “Wow. That’s crazy. What about your brothers? And you’re a twin, how does that work?”

  “Damon is my twin, but he was born three minutes after me, which makes me firstborn.”

  “Tell me about them. Damon and Zachariah, right?”

  “Damon lives nearby. You’ll meet him soon. I’m sure he’s dying to meet my future bride,” he said sarcastically. “Zachariah joined the military when he turned eighteen. Can’t blame him. I don’t know where he is. Some mission somewhere, I suppose.”

  “You don’t know? That doesn’t worry you?” He didn’t answer my question, seeming to drift into memory instead.

  “We were born in Philadelphia—our parents wanted to be sure we had American citizenship—but spent most of our time here. With the winery in full production, it was easier.”

  “Your English is fluent and you have no accent.”

  “We attended international schools.”

  “Ah. The name Amado is Portuguese?”

  “My father is, or was, American-born of Portuguese descent.”

  “I looked it up. It means one who loves God,” I said.

  His face hardened and he turned to me, his voice tight when he spoke.

  “I don’t believe in God, Sofia. No God would allow what happened to my family to happen.” He glanced out the window. “Which you’ll see the irony in when you meet Damon.”

  “Raphael is the name of an archangel. That’s an irony, isn’t it, considering?”

  “I guess your God is having a good laugh at my expense.”

  A few moments later, the house came into view. I didn’t want to be affected, but before I could stop myself, I made a sound of utter awe.

  “It needs repairs,” Raphael said. “My brother had part of the house closed off. Money was…tight while I was in prison.”

  “We flew first class,” I reminded. He went on, ignoring my comment.

  “Seventeen bedrooms altogether, only six of which are useable at the moment, an interior courtyard, a large swimming pool, updated kitchen, etcetera.”

  “Etcetera? You take this for granted?”

  He turned to me. “I take nothing for granted.”

  “The Guardia home here, from what I know because I’ve never been there, is more of a factory used for harvesting and production. This is beautiful. Elegant. Is that, or was it, the vineyard?” I asked as the car came to a stop outside a building that stood beside a vast field of what looked to be the charred remains of a vineyard.

  “Yes.” He looked straight at me. “The one my father burned down. To collect the insurance money. You wanted to know what your grandfather had to do with what happened to me. This is it. My father owed your grandfather money. He gave my father an ultimatum, life or death, and my father set the property on fire to repay him to save his worthless life. It killed my mother.”

  He spoke the words quickly, as if determined not to let them affect him.

  “She wasn’t supposed to be there,” I said. I’d read that. That his mother had come home with a headache and had gone to lie down. His father hadn’t known that.

  “She was. That’s all that matters. And if she wasn’t, it would have killed her to know he destroyed her legacy. So one way or another, she was finished.”

  He took a breath and didn’t look at me anymore.

  “And the bastard couldn’t even cover his tracks. Insurance didn’t pay him a cent in the end, and he still died.”

  “Why did he owe Grandfather money? He runs the family business, why would he—”

  “Truth, Sofia. Can you stand it?”

  “Raphael—”

  “Wondering why your grandfather agreed so easily to this? To handing you over to me?”

  Could I take this truth?

  “I have proof of his deal with my father, for one thing. He’d go to prison if it got into the wrong hands. He’d lose everything, and so would you.”

  God. This couldn’t be true. My grandfather wasn’t evil.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Facts are facts.”

  “Guardia Winery is a legitimate business. A successful one.”

  “Sure, he hides behind the legitimate business. Yes.”

  “Raphael…”

  The car came to a stop. Raphael opened his door and got out. My brain whirled with Raphael’s ‘facts,’ and it took me a minute to open mine. I climbed out and just stared at the grand estate, then took in the house, part of which was black from the fire.

  It was a huge, two-story building, the stone and color of which fit perfectly into the Tuscan countryside. The front doors were recessed behind three arches, which were duplicated on the second floor. Large windows with intricate ironwork stood open on both floors, and I wondered if the house was air-conditioned.

  Raphael went to greet the older woman who’d walked out of the house with a huge smile on her face, wiping her hands on her apron. I watched as they hugged, watched her rub his back then stand holding his hands and looking him over. She wiped her eyes and released him. When Raphael turned toward me, I didn’t miss the look of tenderness on his face, even if it did disappear when he laid his eyes on me.

  Then someone else walked out of the house. I did a double take and glanced at Raphael. I knew they were twins, but to see them in person, it was weird. Amazing, that nature could duplicate life so flawlessly. Damon stood as tall as Raphael, his hair just as dark, his build big and powerful. The only difference between them was in the eyes. Damon’s seemed kinder.

  He greeted his brother with a handshake, and I could see from the expressions on both their faces that their relationship was strained.

  Damon looked at me and smiled. The brothers approached together. Watching them was almost surreal.

  “You must be Sofia.”

  His voice was as deep as Raphael’s but had a different tone altogether. I wondered if this was how Raphael would sound if he hadn’t spent the last several years of his life behind bars. If circumstances had turned out differently for him.

  “I’m Damon Amado, Raphael’s brother. Welcome to Italy.”

  “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, Damon.”

  “Damon is the slightly nicer version of me.”

  Raphael came to stand beside me and wrapped a hand territorially around the back of my neck while he held his brother’s gaze.

  “Holier than thou and all that.”

  Damon didn’t reply to his brother’s jab but shifted his gaze to me.

  “Raphael’s been very secretive about you.”

  I knew from the look in his eyes, he knew this was no normal romance. Not a romance at all, actually.

  “I’m looking forward to getting to know you,” Damon added.

  Raphael snorted. “Amazing how two people sharing a womb can be so different, isn’t it?” he asked of no one in particular.

  Damon continued, taking me from Raphael and leading me toward the house.

  “You will always have a friend in me, Sofia,” he said quietly.

  I wasn’t sure if I was the only one meant to hear it, but the way he said it, it made my eyes mist.

  “What did I say? Holier than thou,” Raphael grumbled, knocking Damon’s shoulder with his as he passed.

  “This is Maria, she’s the cook and pretty much manages everything having to do with the house,” Damon said, introducing me to the older woman. “She’s been with our family
for as long as I can remember.”

  That’s why there was the obvious bond between her and Raphael.

  She gave me a courteous smile and said something in Italian.

  “Only speaks Italian, though.”

  Raphael took me from his brother. I felt like a yo-yo.

  “I studied a little Italian.” I said. Freeing myself from Raphael, I greeted the woman with my passable Italian, which I could see from the look on her face she appreciated.

  “I’ll take you inside. Maria made lunch, so you’ll have to wait to get settled.”

  As we walked in, three men came around the corner. Raphael spoke to them in Italian and shook their hands, then turned to me to tell me their names, not quite introducing me, just telling me who they were. Cousins, apparently, who worked for him. Whom I gathered would be around a lot. I only remembered the first one’s name: Eric.

  The scent of food wafting from the kitchen made my stomach growl. Even though I was dead on my feet, I could eat whatever it was this woman was cooking.

  “I can’t stay. I’m expected at the seminary,” Damon said. “I wanted to be here to meet you, though.”

  Seminary?

  “I’ll be back in a few days’ time. If you need anything—”

  Before I could answer, Raphael did.

  “She won’t,” he said, cutting him off.

  Damon took out a card and handed it to me anyway, as if Raphael hadn’t spoken at all. I guessed not many people did that with Raphael.

  “My cell phone number is on the back, and you can also always find me here.”

  I looked at the card. St. Mark’s Seminary with a Florence address.

  “You’re a priest?” Was that the irony Raphael mentioned?

  “Studying. Not yet ordained.”

  “Oh.” I looked at him with fresh eyes.

  Raphael pulled me close, and, as if he’d read my mind, said: “He’s not all that good. Don’t be fooled, Sofia. I can tell you right now to be wary of any Amado male.”

  Damon rolled his eyes at his brother. “Good-bye, Raphael. Believe it or not, it’s good to have you back home,” he said. “I think it’ll be good for you to be here.”

  Raphael studied his brother, and for a moment, I thought he might say something remotely human, but he didn’t. Instead, he broke his gaze and dismissed him.