Page 75 of Savage Proposal

“He hurt someone that I—” I didn’t know what to say. “He hurt someone under my protection.”

“So, it was revenge?”

“Yes.”

“Would you do that for anyone in your employ?” Cristian asked. His deadpan voice and neutral expression were starting to bother me. My brother was lively and warm, and sometimes a pain in my ass, but he wasn’tthis.

Normally, it would be easy to tell my brother that I would kill for my people because I would. I had before. But I couldn’t say that I had killed Father David because Isabella was my surrogate, and we’d struck a deal. He and I both knew that if I said that, I would be lying.

“I would do anything for my people,” I said, “but I took revenge for Isabella because she matters to me.” The words came out in a rushed mumble.

Some life finally sparked on my younger brother’s face. “What was that,fratellone?”

I bit the side of my cheek until I tasted blood. “I have come to care for her,” I said slowly. “In my way.”

Cristian chuckled humorlessly. “You can’t just say that you have feelings for her, can you?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Emotions rarely are,” he said. I used to believe that my brother was wise beyond his years, but then he told me it was part of the sympathetic ear that they learn in seminary. He had to be someone that other people could talk to. Either way, he was good at it. “Have you told her?”

Was this therapy now?I bit back the first smartass reply that came to mind. “Why would I do that?”

His eyebrows wrinkled inward. “You’re falling in love with a woman, and you’re not going to tell her?”

The air froze between us. “Are you out of your mind? Who saidanythingabout falling in love?” I demanded.

My younger brother crossed his arms over his chest. “She matters to you,” he said. “You care for her enough that you sought out the person that hurt her. But admitting that you might be falling in love is too far?”

I stood up. I couldn’t quite look at him, so I crossed my office to the bar built into the opposite wall. It wasn’t often that I indulged during the day—and especially never in the middle of a confession—but a strong drink might be needed now. I poured two fingers of whiskey, and then looked at Cristian. He nodded, and I immediately poured a second drink for him.

I came back to our usual seats and handed him one of the glasses. “I don’t love Isabella,” I said finally. “I could neverloveher.”

“Because Sienna was your soulmate?”

I took a long sip of my drink, hissing slightly as the warmth spread as it went down. “I made vows to her in front of God.”

Cristian didn’t look impressed. “Those vows were ‘til death do you part,” he said. “Sienna has been gone for longer than you were ever married. You can’t tell me that you’re still the mourning widower.”

“Vaffanculo,” I spat. “You willneverknow?—”

“Who knows,” Cristian cut me off. “I might find myself a wife one day. Maybe then I would understand why you would choose to die while you’re still living.”

Whatever argument was stirring between us ground to a screeching halt. Ever since Cristian had decided to take the seminary route, he had never faltered in that decision. He was going to dedicate himself to the Church and to God, and hewasn’t going to be one of those priests who didn’t walk the walk, so to speak, even if he had to learn to “close his eyes” to my moral failings from time to time.

To hear him talking about a future where he didn’t end up a priest was unthinkable. It wasn’t who my brother was. “What’s going on,fratello?”

Cristian’s expression went slack. “Nothing.”

“Non dire cazzate.” I didn’t want to hear lies or excuses, especially not from him. “Talk to me.”

He let out another humorless laugh. “Are you my confessor now, Enzo?”

“If that’s what you need,” I told him, and the sharp smile on his face faded around the edges. “I know what happened with Father David was fucked up.”

“No,” he said. “You don’t know. You could neverpossiblyunderstand.” He drained the whiskey in his glass and crossed the room to pour another. “If a man like Father David could fool me, make me believe that he truly was a man of God, what if all I’m learning is bullshit and lies?”

“And what if Father David truly repented?” I countered. “What if he got back on the straight and narrow and dedicated himself to the Church?” I held up my hands before Cristian could launch into an argument. “I don’t have any regrets about what I did; I would do it again a hundred times over. But it doesn’t mean that Father David didn’t spend every night after that one trying to earn God’s forgiveness.”

---