Page 104 of Bitter Poetry
I know Christian better. He’s been inside me a hell of a lot more, but even without that, there’s a connection, a twisted one that pulls me back to him time and time again. Do I really know him, though?
Do I know either of them?
No, I don’t think I do.
Dante’s eyes turn back to me. “I don’t have a lot of time. So I’m going to keep it short.”
With those few words, the passage of time between our meetings disappears. I see that he wants me—still.
But he’s marrying her.
I swallow. His eyes lower to track the movement before they settle on the necklace at my throat. He reaches out, his fingertips tracing down the line of the chain before stopping at the diamond heart.
It’s barely a touch, yet it electrifies me and sends white-hot need pooling in my core.
He moves his hand away. “I thought you might have thrown it away.”
“I tried,” I say honestly. “So many times.”
“I’m sorry.”
I don’t know why those simple words make me want to cry, but they do.
“Please don’t.” I blink the sting from the back of my eyes. “It’s been a terrible year, Dante.”
“I know.” His voice is so different from Christian’s. There is no hidden jibe waiting in the wings. Personality-wise, they’re poles apart.
For all their differences, I’m drawn to them both.
I draw in a ragged breath and let it out slowly. “You’ve been talking to my father.”
“I have,” he says. “Information has come to light. Suspicions I long held confirmed… change is coming.”
“That’s what my father said.” Bitterness laces my tone.
“You should trust in him.”
“I did once,” I say. “And look where that got me.”
“Baby, I’m so sorry… I trusted him, too.”
I don’t know what that means. Suddenly, I’m exhausted, overwhelmed.
“Things will probably get worse before they get better,” he continues.
I suck my lower lip into my mouth and bite down. No, I don’t like the sound of that.
“I’m taking the fact that you’re still wearing my necklace as an indication that you might still want me when this is all done. There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t thought about you. It’s been a hard year, but what destroys me is knowing it’s been so much worse for you.”
He gets up and exits stage left, his words leaving me more shattered than I thought possible. My head swings around to watch him as he stalks out of the door.
Hell no. That wasn’t anywhere near enough after more than a year. Half answers? He didn’t say anything about his marriage to Helena. And I really wish he had given me something, anything that will keep me going through this fresh hell.
The view before me turns blurred, and I quickly blink away at the tears, stumbling from my seat.
Christian is at my side instantly. “You okay? What did he say? I’m going to fuck him up if he’s upset you. I swear to God I love my brother, but sometimes he’s a dick.”
I don’t want to go home. Not into a house that reminds me of Ettore. I don’t even want to visit my father. “Will you take me to my mother’s grave?”
