Page 131 of Unholy Union
His hand finds my bruised wrist underneath the covers and he brings it up to his lips for a kiss. His warm lips feel so good pressed against the sore, tender inside of my wrist.
“That’s good,” he mutters, eyelids still heavy with sleep. “Because it wouldn’t have ended well for anybody if something happened to you.”
“I believe you.” I pause for a second, trailing off as I figure out how to bring up the other things on my mind. “But it doesn’t change that… it’s kind of weird to know the truth after so long having it hidden from me. Everything I’ve ever believed was a lie. My whole life feels like it was fake.”
Cato remains silent, his thumb moving in slow circles across my bruised wrist. The motions are comforting and surprisingly soft given how rough even the pad of his thumb feels.
I close my eyes and focus on how he makes me feel and parse through the rest of what I’m trying to say.
“The man I thought my father was… was not the man he turned out to be. He died yesterday. Youkilledhim, Cato. And I feel like I should feel bad about it. I should be crying my eyes out or grieving him. But instead I… don’t feel anything for him.
“I’m just relieved it’s over. This feud that’s been hanging over my head my whole life is gone. And I’m relieved the truth is out. If not for me, then for Mami and Leo. For what he did to them,” I sigh on a note of sadness. “He really had the world fooled. Memost of all. I looked up to him like he was some kind of hero and bought every story he ever told me. I thought my parents had this perfect marriage and I idolized him like an idiot. But it was just lies.”
“Sabrina,” Cato says, pulling me closer. He brushes a kiss to my brow. His warm lips press against my forehead the same way they had the inside of my wrist, and he draws back to cup my face in his hands. “So what you grew up idolizing your father? Most kids do. We don’t know any better. Of course you believed him—you didn’t have any reason not to. But the truth doesn’t stay buried forever. It always claws its way out.”
“It did. My father just couldn’t help himself. He was willing to do anything if it meant winning. But you weren’t about to let him.”
“Letting him win meant losing you. I’d do it all again. No hesitation,” he says, stroking my cheek. “Same goes for what I did tomyfather.”
I sniff, nuzzling the palm of his hand cupping my face. “I know. That’s why when you showed up… a part of me knew it’d be okay. That you’d find a way to get us out.”
Cato leans in and his mouth captures mine in a soft kiss. It’s not the hard, fierce kisses in the heat of the moment like many of our past kisses, but it’s no less deep.
It sends a jolt down my spine, setting off a flutter in my stomach as we pull away and lay contently like two puzzle pieces fitted together.
“This marriage is the real thing,” Cato says. “No more war. No more pretending we’re enemies or we’re only together because it was arranged. Our fathers are gone. The feud died with them. You’re my wife and I meant every word of the vows I took.”
“Does that mean you…?” I waggle my brows at him, unable to help teasing him with a smile.
He chuckles, a sexy crooked grin coming to his scruffy face. “Yes, principessa. It’s what it sounds like. What else do you think it means? I love you.”
“I love you too,” I say, my smile brightening. “But I’m still not sorry about the cyanide or the knife on our wedding night—Cato!”
I break into laughter as he launches his latest tickle attack, dragging me under him so I’m trapped and running his fingers along my sides and stomach. I twist and thrash in the sheets, helpless laughter spilling out of me ’til I’m practically crying tears.
“Okay!” I beg. “Okay… I do… I regret it… sheesh!”
He bows his head, dropping kisses on me where he can. He stops only when he’s satisfied, after he’s tortured me enough and I’m breathless and flushed, laying against the pillows.
“You know I was only telling you what you want to hear, right?” I say stubbornly.
He shakes his head. “You just can’t help yourself, can you, principessa? You and that mouth of yours.”
“I make things interesting.”
“Hmmm. I won’t disagree with that.” He drops another kiss on my lips that makes the fluttery feeling inside me deepen.
“But what about our families? The companies? There’s going to be a lot of fallout. And cleanup…”
“Lazaro and my men already handled the situation at the warehouse. We’ll figure everything else out. We’ve got time,” he says, finding my hand. “We’ll do it together… starting with a shower. Then maybe some breakfast. C’mon.”
A giggle slips free as he pulls me up out of the bed and toward the ensuite to get our day started.
The funerals for Don Corsini and Don Valente are held on the same day, a gloomy Saturday where people show up dressed in black to pay their last respects.
Cassian makes an off-color joke that if either man knew they were being laid to rest at the same cemetery they would find a way to rise from the dead.
The corner of Cato’s mouth quirks as he tells him that’s the idea—making the two of them suffer for the rest of eternity and there’s nothing either can do about it.
