Page 43 of Virtuous Lies

Our relationship was a lie and not an honest one. I believed my father loved me unconditionally. I knew my actions would disappoint him, but I never imagined they would’ve wielded the power to extinguish his love. But then again,thatwas his lie. What Armando Rossi felt for me was not love and affection. It was greed and the promise of admiration from his peers.

I was betrayed by the one person I wholeheartedly believed was bound to protect me.

“Papa.” I kiss his cheek, my lips not actually meeting his skin before stepping back. “Mama.”

My mother hugs me, genuinely happy to see me. “Oh, Bianca. Are you well?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Vincent, my daughter’s behavior has cost—”

“My wife’s behavior is no longer your concern, Armando. I’ll have you refrain from speaking ill of it moving forward.” Vincent meets my father’s eyes lazily.

Watching my father morph from a man of power—shoulders pushed back, chest forward—to that of a child reprimanded for poor manners eased the pain he’d ushered into my chest. And for that, I want to hug Vincent.

I hesitate for only a moment before linking my arm through his and leaning into his side in gratitude.

My father clocks the movement, an indiscriminate scowl forming between his eyebrows.

I smile in response.

Vincent places a chaste kiss on my head. “Dolcezza, your father and I have business to discuss. Visit with your mother and sister, and I’ll find you when I’m ready to leave.”

I look up at him. “Okay.” I wait, eyes trained on his.

The corner of his mouth tips up in a smirk, and he leans down, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss soft enough to make my eyelids flutter.

Lips apart, our gaze catches. I never imagined lust would be so potent you could see it in someone's eyes.Windows of the soulalways felt farfetched. But Vincent’s stare could burn down villages. The usual ice in his eyes has been replaced with fire; flames of longing and carnality dancing for me in promises he is yet to keep.

“Go,” he whispers, and I break our connection, stepping toward my mother.

Arm linked through mine, she moves us with purpose to the kitchen. “Bianca. You and Vincent?” she marvels.

“Me and Vincent, what?”

Letting me go as she steps into the kitchen, she places her hands on her wide hips. “You’re having sex.”

“Mama!”

“Well?” She moves around her kitchen with ease, hands fluttering this way and that as she prepares coffee.

“We’re married.” I refrain from telling her the truth. That Vincent may be eager to bring me pleasure, but sex has been placed out of reach for reasons I struggle to understand.

She sighs. “There is having relations out of obligation, and there’s havingsex. There is no obligation in your interactions.”

“Not on my part, no.”

“Or on his.”

Her statement causes my heart to beat. “You think so?” My eagerness is obvious to my mother, her feet pausing as she sighs at me in a way that tells me she thinks I’m too naïve to be greedy for Vincent’s affection.

“Bianca, sweetheart, there is a limit to the obligation a man like Vincent Ferrari will endure when it comes to his betrothed. He chastised your father infrontof his family. He kissed you with salacious intent. That man is acting on heart, not duty.”

I duck my face to hide the pleasure in my smile. “If you say so.”

“Bianca!”

I turn toward Caterina’s voice and watch as she takes the stairs two at a time, rushing toward me.

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