The Counterfeit Lover (War of Sins Book 3)

‘I don’t care about the chain of supply, Jimmy. I told you I wanted it done by the end of the month.’

Michele tapped his foot on the floor, rolling his eyes as the excuses flew from the young man’s mouth.

Of course, nothing would ever get done unless he got personally involved.

‘I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll try to hurry it along. But the shipment is already lost and…’

‘Call me when you have actual information, Jimmy. Not excuses,’ he said as he cut the line.

Michele’s plans were scheduled in minute detail, and though he always accounted for unavoidable delays, he couldn’t account for human stupidity. And this was exactly what had happened in this case.

From the moment he’d woken up in the hospital as the only survivor, he’d promised to Solomon and to himself that he would make McBride pay.

Yet that was only the beginning.

Michele still had the list of people Solomon had remembered by their given names. And though most were incredibly common ones, Michele was certain that once he got to McBride, he would be able to find the others too. In fact, considering McBride’s exalted position and moniker as the Nation’s Hero, Michele had no doubt that the others involved in the trafficking ring must hold equally important functions.

Alas, first he needed to get to his main target. Slowly, methodically.

For years he’d been doing hostile take-overs of companies of interest, placing a false leadership while he controlled them from the shadows—all in an effort to gain ground within the impenetrable world of politics and state affairs.

The goal of the entire mission was secrecy. He couldn’t afford to make mistakes like he’d done the first time which had resulted in his son’s death.

No, this time everything would be so methodically planned, there would be absolutely no room for error.

In the end, the objective was to infiltrate McBride’s circle, which had proven quite the Herculean task. No matter how much Michele tried, the circuit seemed to be closed.

They were all a bunch of paranoid old men with a lot to hide.

Michele had nothing but time, and patience.

As he brought a cigarette to his lips, the door to his office opened, Andreas striding in.

It seemed his trip to Texas had ended sooner than expected.

When he stopped by Michele, he handed him a cigarette, his brow going up in question.

‘I trust it’s done.’

Andreas nodded.

‘You were right,’ Andreas nodded, inhaling from his cigarette as he extended a file. ‘Here’s everything you need to know.’

Curious, Michele accepted the file, stepping around his desk to peruse its contents.

Inside were a list of relatives as well as pictures.

A lot of pictures.

‘It seems we were premature in leaving her alone,’ Michele narrowed his eyes. ‘Well done, Andreas. I’ll deal with it personally.’

“Her husband is an Archibald,” Andreas added grimly.

The Archibalds were one of the most influential family on the East Coast. Old money. That meant their network extended to the very top. Michele needed to be slightly more careful about that.

“Doesn’t matter,” Michele waved his hand. “I’ll deal with the blowback later.”

‘When should I schedule the jet for?’

‘End of the week. I have some other things pending until then.’

‘Understood, sir.’

Andreas didn’t have to ask Michele what pending things he had for he knew they most likely pertained to Miss Venezia.

Michele may have forgotten but Andreas had access to his accounts and financial statements, and he’d seen the purchases accumulating, day after day.

He’d been quite surprised at some of the items his boss had bought, since Andreas had never pegged him as the more…soft type—except, maybe in the past.

There had been scented candles—chocolate scented candles—women’s clothes and cosmetics, as well as other health care items that Andreas doubted Michele used for himself.

He supposed Michele should count himself lucky that Kuznetsov and his wife were forever going on their strange expeditions abroad, and more often than not, left Venezia home alone. And while the house might be heavily guarded on a regular basis, Andreas had managed to squeeze in some of his own men, which ensured that Michele could stealthily go in and out.

But that didn’t mean it was going to work forever.

And as he regarded his boss, Andreas had to agree he looked better than the last time he’d seen him, especially considering he’d spent Solomon’s birthday by himself at the cemetery—as he usually did.

In fact, there was less tension around him—less volatility.

In the weeks since he’d decided he was going to pursue Miss Venezia, Michele had turned into the worst version of himself—quite possibly worse than he’d ever been. He’d become increasingly paranoid about her, to the extent of only getting a few hours of sleep a night so he could watch her more.

More than anything, Andreas could feel that those types of chaotic feelings could only lead to disaster. It didn’t matter that he was the biggest proponent of Michele’s relationship with Miss Venezia. It wasn’t this way that he’d envisioned things evolving.

Yet he should have expected that with Michele nothing would ever go smoothly. He was the most unpredictable man Andreas had ever met. For all his cautious planning and meticulous scheming, there was a volatility to him that could turn a regular meeting into a massacre. The prime example had been the disaster at Cooke’s house.

Michele had well known that slaughtering so many people could become dangerous and would attract attention. He’d known it and done it anyway.

For her. Miss Venezia. Michele’s deepest obsession.

And that was a double edged sword he didn’t know how to deal with.

Andreas was certain Miss Venezia was the key to his happiness—that she alone could get him out of the hole he’d sunk himself in. But he was also aware she was his trigger. One wrong move and she could make him explode unlike ever before.

Michele, to his core, was a calm and collected man who favored well-thought out plans to impulsive displays—and those only to send a message. But Miss Venezia instilled too strong feelings in him. So strong, in fact, that he simply lost himself to everything but the sight of her, gaining a tunnel vision that wasn’t most lucrative to his plans.

Andreas had seen Michele behave like that once before. It had been right after Nicolo and Cami’s deaths when he’d been so blinded by a deadly cocktail of grief and anger that he’d acted without thinking things through—he’d done it just because he could.

In that moment, nothing mattered but the end result—the end of Nicolo’s killers. And so he’d made mistake after mistake that had resulted in McBride’s men coming after him and Solomon.

Andreas knew his boss still blamed himself for everything. But how could he when he’d been just a twenty-something year old overwhelmed by the weight of his feelings?

Yet that was the prime example of how Michele acted when his entire focus became wrapped in one goal—one person. He lost sight of everything around, of logic and of common sense, until pure actions remained—often, disastrous actions.

It was one of the reasons why he’d shut down so completely after Solomon’s death.

He’d recognized his weakness for what it was and sought to eliminate it—eliminate his feelings.

Yet now that weakness was poking through the surface again. And Andreas didn’t like where things were headed.

Michele had suppressed his emotions for far too long, and now that they could prove not only destructive, but debilitating to his plan, he might strike out in an even worse fashion.

Andreas was worried.

Not only for Michele but also for Miss Venezia.

‘I’ll be out late today. Make sure the dog has all he needs?’ Michele suddenly mentioned, closing out all his files.

‘Of course, sir,’ Andreas immediately nodded, watching as Michele shrugged his leather jacket over his broad shoulders.

It was too hot outside for a jacket, but not for Michele.

Always, he was the exception to the rule.

‘Good. Talk to you later,’ Michele said absentmindedly as he pocketed the keys to his car.

Leaving his office, he jumped in his car, driving to the area where his pet’s classroom was located. It was a summer tutoring center that taught a slew of disciplines and had a section for learning disabilities too. Covertly, he’d made a small donation to ensure that their conditions were top-notch and that the classes didn’t have too many students—something his pet hadn’t been too keen on.

As he parked the car across the road, he checked his watch, noting he still had plenty of time before she finished.

A couple of days ago she’d had her doctor check-up. It had come rather late since Michele had kept interfering with the doctors Assisi would choose. When she’d finally found a proper female doctor, he’d allowed the appointment to continue.

Michele himself had been rather curious of the results—more than he’d dared admit out loud. Particularly after he’d seen her bleed on video, he’d become increasingly worried that he’d done irreparable damage.

But he’d curbed that excitement, just as he’d curbed everything relating to her lately.

The visit to Solomon’s tomb had given him a much needed clarity that he’d been…reckless. Not in the messy sense, and certainly not in his business dealings.

But he’d been messy enough that he could have been.

He’d become so wrapped up in her ever since he’d realized there was a chance someone else could come and sweep her from under his nose that he’d spent almost all his time monitoring her.

Day and night.

He went to sleep with her sleeping on the monitor and he woke up with the same image. He even ate when she ate.

Certainly his fixation had taken a turn for the worse after he’d hurt her.

Guilt mixed with longing had made him act unlike himself—unlike he’d programmed himself previously.

She’d managed to infiltrate every corner of his mind until he’d felt like going mad if he didn’t see her one second.

That behavior had continued well into last week when, upon taking some time to reflect, he’d realized he was giving her too much importance—too much power.

Yes, he might want her back—mostly in his bed—but that was it. And he would get her back eventually. He knew his pet would never be able to resist to him. He just needed to find the right way to melt her defenses.

As such, he didn’t need to put in effort that she wouldn’t know about anyway. What was the utilitarian purpose of that?

He needed to focus on the showy stuff, not the behind the scenes.

If there was one thing that Michele always prized, it was time.

He hated wasting time.

Imagine his surprise when he’d belatedly realized he had been wasting time with her all along. No amount of watch time would get her love back. Certainly, no amount of studying her features, the way she ate or wrote, would get him back into her good graces.

He already had all the information he required on her. As such, more was just…useless.

After he’d come to that realization, he’d minimized his watch time. He only allowed himself to observe her at night, and only for a few hours.

Though he’d been of a mind to bug the doctor’s office beforehand, he hadn’t gone through it. At the last moment he’d reminded himself of his priorities, and the fact that she was merely a diversion, not a priority. That meant he did not—could not—care about her health. Regardless of the perceived damage he might have done her.

Instead, he’d allowed himself to sneak in some listening time when his pet had arrived home after her consultation. Surprisingly intrepid, she’d insisted on going alone to see the doctor, and despite some initial protests, her sister had allowed her to do that.

His pet had given Assisi and Vlad a full account of her exam and the fact that the doctor had diagnosed her as anemic and given her some vitamins. Her blood tests had also come out clear and she was perfectly healthy.

 Assisi and Vlad had sighed in relief and after Vlad had carefully retreated from the room, her sister had proceeded to give her a lesson in sexual health.

Michele couldn’t help but be curious about that girls talk and he’d sneaked in a bit more listening time.

‘I know Catalina probably didn’t have this conversation with you yet. And maybe it’s a little too late,’ Assisi had pursed her lips. ‘But I’d rather we had it anyway.’

‘Must we?’ his pet had asked, peering apprehensively at her sister.

Assisi had nodded.

‘You must be responsible about it. I can’t tell you who to sleep with, Zia. All I can ask is that you’re careful about it. Use protection. Ask them for their tests before you do anything. Just look out for your health, ok? You were lucky nothing happened this time.’

‘Is that what you did with Vlad? Did you ask him for his test results before?’

Assisi’s eyes had widened slightly and she’d stumbled over her words a couple of times before she’d replied.

‘Vlad and I were different. He hadn’t been with anyone before either. That isn’t to say you shouldn’t still ask. But I was a little naïve at the time too. I didn’t realize that you could get pregnant either…’ she’d trailed off, avoiding eye contact. ‘And you know how that story ended,’ Assisi had mentioned in a low voice.

His pet had licked her lips, reaching out to brush her hand over Assisi’s.

‘Don’t worry, Sisi. I don’t plan on sleeping with anyone any time soon. Maybe ever,’ she’d grumbled softly.

‘Ever?’ Assisi had repeated, shocked.

‘It wasn’t…pleasant,’ his pet had confessed, and Michele’s ears had immediately perked up. ‘I didn’t like it at all,’ she’d continued. ‘It was just something I did for him.’

‘You know, my first time with Vlad wasn’t pleasant either. But that’s not forever. If the guy knows what he’s doing and cares about your pleasure, then it can be wonderful. I get that you don’t want to talk about your boyfriend much, but if he never cared about your pleasure, then he’s an asshole. And you deserve better.’

His pet had smiled furtively.

‘I agree. I do deserve better,’ she’d nodded, to Michele’s dismay. ‘But I’m still not in a hurry. If the situation arises, I promise I will be responsible,’ she’d assured her sister.

Michele was still reeling from her previous words.

She deserved better?

Better than him?

How was that humanely possible?

Initially, that sentence had been met with rage.

Even now as he recalled that certain discussion, Michele couldn’t help but scowl. But as he dwelled on Assisi’s advice to his pet, he realized he had been awful to her—at least in that department. He’d been selfish, and quite honestly, uncaring.

As long as she’d opened her mouth or legs for him, he hadn’t given much thought if it was something that she was into, or deriving any pleasure from.

Retrospectively, he could see the signs of distress every time they were about to get down to business. In the past, he’d mistakenly attributed that to maidenly fear and an intrinsic shame of sex that he’d thought came from her sheltered upbringing.

In his own memory and despite the fact that they’d fucked countless times, he could only think of one time when it had been good—the best it had ever been.

The night after the massacre at Cooke’s house.

At least then, he would have assumed she’d enjoyed the act—had even said so herself.

But her confession that it had been bad for her at all times made him reconsider. Especially since the last time they’d been intimate he’d ended up being a brute and hurting her even more.

Maybe that was the key to getting her back? Showing her that it could be good between them. That there was pleasure to be had—and not only on his part.

The only issue? He had no fucking clue how to go about that.

He didn’t know how to treat women and had no experience to speak of that might guide him other than a basic knowledge of anatomy.

But the moment the idea took root in his mind, he took it as a personal challenge.

He’d seduced her romantically once and as a result she’d been willing to do something she didn’t enjoy for him. Now, he just had to go the other way—seduce her sexually and the romantic side would soon follow.

Pleased with himself, he redirected his focus to the building though there was still quite some time until his pet was done with her classes.

Suddenly, however, the door to the brownstone opened, and there she was.

Dressed in a dark baggy dress, she shrugged her backpack over her shoulder as she hurried down the street, a sweet smile on her face.

Michele narrowed his eyes.

What was she up to?

Michele jumped out of his car, following closely behind.

The fact that she was without her guards—without any protection—told Michele that she was likely skipping class.

Immediately he thought of the worst scenario.

Was she… Was she meeting someone?

A red haze descended upon him. His steps became harder as he strode after her, ready to confront whoever she was meeting with.

His pet seemed in her own world, barely acknowledging what was happening around her.

That piqued Michele’s curiosity even more.

At the end of the block, she turned to the right, heading for the park. Faithfully behind her, Michele slowed down his steps so he wouldn’t startle her. And when she took a seat on a bench, he did the same, finding one that afforded him a good view of her while keeping himself incognito—at least for now.

Watching her closely, he noted her fumble with her backpack, removing the tablet he’d gifted her. All the while she had a wistful smile on her face—one that simply mesmerized Michele.

He slowly shook himself from his reverie to get his own phone, accessing the screen mirroring application so he could see what had her so entranced.

Yet as he traced her actions on the device, he was surprised to see she was accessing the audiobook app, selecting a book she’d already started before.

Since he’d forced himself to limit his watch time, he’d also stopped paying too much attention to what she was reading. After all, that knowledge could only take him in one direction—reading the same book and thusly wasting more time.

And Michele had decided he wouldn’t waste any more time. It was too uncharacteristic of him. No, instead, he would use all his time effectively. As witnessed by the moment at hand, which he rationalized as very efficient.

Plugging her earbuds in, she clicked play on the title. Leaning back on the bench, she tucked her legs under her, smoothing her skirt to cover herself up.

Michele’s lips tugged up.

His pet’s maidenly shyness was quite endearing at times.

Curious to see what she had picked, he put on his own earbuds, choosing the same audiobook.

Kiss an angel.

An interesting title.

Yet as he perused the book’s description, he realized it was a romance novel.

Blinking in confusion, he looked from his phone to his pet, shocked to realize her excitement and the smile that painted her lips were all a result of that romance novel.

What could possibly be so good for his pet to be so enthralled by it?

The answer came immediately as the audiobook started playing in his ears. The characters were engaging in a sensual encounter that had his pet blush from head to toe as she brought one hand to her mouth, a slight giggle escaping her.

She looked so young and cheery unlike Michele had ever seen her. And the smile that seemed to grow wider by the moment had him enthralled in return.

The book wasn’t lewd, and it exemplified the act of lovemaking between a man and a woman in all its glory—all its fun, physical and spiritual glory. Something they’d never had.

Discomfort pricked under his skin the more he listened at the carefree way in which the couple in the book were behaving with each other and he could only see one thing—her pain.

He’d hurt her.

Time and time again, he’d hurt her. And the worst thing was that so many times he’d been so caught up in himself he hadn’t even noticed—hadn’t wanted to notice.

He took his time watching her, matching her reactions with the events happening in the book and wondering, not for the first time, what went inside her mind.

Before, he thought he’d known her. He’d thought her simplistic because it had suited him to do so. Armed with some background information that didn’t even begin to cover everything that she was, he thought he’d had her all figured out.

The abandoned little girl who craved some attention.

So he’d given it to her. He’d used his charm, making her feel she was the only woman in the world until she’d irrevocably fallen for him.

But only now did he realize his mistake.

She wasn’t just the pitiful little girl he’d thought her to be. She wasn’t made up of just that. And the realization stumped him. Because she’d been playing a role just as much as he had.

Who was she?

Retrospectively, he could see those tiny instances—those little moments when her act had slipped. Because her calm, good disposition and her easy acquiesce were just that. An act.

The real Venezia was maybe one percent of that.

The rest of her was a chaotic ball of destructive emotions, of dreams and aspirations, of hard work and perseverance. And there was also that part of her he’d never touched—the part she kept tightly to herself.

Her mind.

He had absolutely no idea what she was thinking, or what she was planning to do.

And that was absolutely terrifying.

From the simpleton he’d previously thought her, she’d turned out to be the most complex creature he’d ever met.

And he needed to figure her out. It was like an imperative taking shape within the core of his being, a frustration bigger than the question of life itself.

He needed to understand her.

Just like she had invaded every crevice of his mind, he needed to do the same—know every little corner; every like and dislike; every dream and hope.

Michele needed to understand what made her tick.

Only then… Only then could he move on.

Deep in his thoughts, he only realized something was wrong when he heard a small, pained sound permeate the air.

His head turned in her direction, and he noted the tears coursing down her cheeks as she brought her knees to her chest. What started as sniffling soon turned into the most heart-wrenching sobbing he’d ever heard.

And that’s when he realized why…

The man in the story told the woman he didn’t want any children and demanded an abortion—the events eerily familiar. But in a twist of fate the man recognized his mistake and realized he loved the woman after all—both her and her unborn child.

His lips parted in shock as he stared at her, so clearly stricken by the story she seemed inconsolable.

Yet he also saw more similarities in the story in the way his pet had succumbed to apathy after that event, regarding him with such indifference it cut him to the bone.

Why?

Why was she doing this to herself?

Why had she chosen a book that so clearly unsettled her and made her sad?

Instead of seeing himself as the agent that had made her sad, it was easier to blame it all on the damn book.

He couldn’t listen for another moment. Not when he knew the end would bring about the much anticipated reconciliation and everything would be forgotten. And that didn’t work in real life—not in his life.

And though he wanted her love again—her smile and her adoration—he didn’t want to admit the biggest issue.

It wasn’t her who couldn’t forgive and forget.

It was him.

He felt frozen in time and place as the words filtered through his ears, the book slowly coming to an end as he’d thought it would, but not in the way he’d anticipated.

Michele would never demean himself like that for anyone, or anything. He would never beg for anything.

The last time he’d done it—the last time he’d crushed all the shields of his proud soul—had been when his son had been about to step into danger. That moment he’d prayed to all deities he could think of, real or imaginary. He’d begged the fates and he’d begged his own body to move.

But no one had responded.

Only the void.

Only ever the painful void.

As the epilogue finished, his pet was crying harder—was it even possible?

The sound and sight of her tears made Michele uncomfortable in a way he’d not been in the past. Before he could think it through, he was off his bench, his long legs taking him towards her.

As his gaze narrowed on her pitiful form, his entire focus dimmed until there was only her.

Her with the oversize dress that swallowed her whole. Her with the red cheeks stained by salty tears. Her with those fucking alluring eyes that haunted and hunted him until there was nothing else but her.

Venezia. Zia. His pet.

This confusing creature whom he’d barely begun to understand.

She whipped her head around, somehow hearing his approach even through the sounds of her labored breathing and ceaseless sobs.

Her eyes grew wide as she noted his taut features—could sense the unyielding intensity emanating from him.

It was like reality shifted in one second as she scrambled to her feet, throwing her tablet and earbuds in her bag before dashing away.

She looked…terrified.

Of him.

His lips flattened into a thin line and as he saw her pick up her pace before breaking into a full on run, he gave chase.

‘Stop running,’ he shouted as he saw her grow increasingly more anxious.

She went down a pebbled path in the middle of the park, looking behind her every now and then to ascertain the distance between them. And when she saw he was gaining ground, she grew more desperate.

So desperate that she didn’t even look where she stepped, her foot catching in a big stone right in the middle of the path. Losing her equilibrium, she swayed on her feet for a brief moment—one that had Michele’s heart stop in his chest—before she tripped and fell.

The sound of the crash made him physically wince, especially as he finally reached her.

On her knees, she managed to brace herself on her palms. But that didn’t take away from the fact that the ground was harsh and abrasive, likely hurting her.

His pulse drumming in his ears, Michele crouched next to her.

It was then that she lifted her face to look at him.

Big, soulful eyes filled with tears. They spoke of pain, heartache and more pain.

‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said in a soft voice.

She was like a wounded animal caught in a hunter’s trap, and he could see her sense of preservation kicking in as she looked wildly around her in an attempt to locate an exit, or someone to help her.

But there was no one around.

Just them.

‘Let me help you up,’ he reached for her.

She was frozen in place, almost as if she didn’t realize what had happened.

Taking her backpack first and swinging it over his shoulder, he gently grabbed her by her ribcage, slowly lifting her up. Her hands were still in the air, and he noted the pebbles had imprinted in her skin, a few scrapes already gaining a red hue.

His eyes went lower and he saw the gashes on her knees. One was worse than the other, the skin torn and blood flowing down her leg.

He swore softly under his breath before picking her up and taking her back to the bench. All the while his pet didn’t say one word.

She held herself still, her breathing harsh, her eyes wide with fear.

Placing her on the bench, he went on his knees in front of her as he assessed the damage.

It didn’t look pretty. And it certainly didn’t help that she seemed to be in some type of shock.

‘You hurt yourself pretty bad. I need to go get something to treat your scratches. Wait for me here, ok?’

He was worried to leave her for fear she would run again. But she seemed so deeply in her own world that she barely realized as he left her side.

Michele remembered seeing a drugstore around the corner, and hurrying, he got whatever items he could find before coming back—all the while hoping his pet wouldn’t leave. He didn’t know what he was capable of doing if she ran from him again—if he saw that terrified expression again.

Yet as he got back, it was to find her as he’d left her.

She was staring into empty space, her hands on her thighs, palms up.

He could see that her dress had been slightly torn at the knees too, and he didn’t know why the sight of her like that tugged at his heart.

He found it hard to swallow, almost as if his entire throat had closed up.

‘I’m back,’ he added quietly as he crouched in front of her.

Grabbing the hem of her dress, he looked for consent in her gaze before he lifted it, folding it neatly around her thighs.

He shuffled through the items he’d bought from the drugstore, taking out some alcohol wipes.

‘This is going to hurt a little. Just bear with me, ok?’

She didn’t answer.

At first, he tried to tend to her with his gloves on, but they made it harder for him to be gentle with her—to feel her skin on his.

With a sigh, he removed his gloves, placing them next to her before he got back to work. But that movement seemed to get her attention. She blinked, slowly looking from the gloves to him and back to the gloves, the unspoken question written all over her face.

He didn’t bother to say anything, keeping his focus on her knees.

Bringing the alcohol wipes to the injured area, he noticed her wince. But she didn’t whimper, or make any noise. She took it in quietly, letting him do his job.

He cleaned one knee. Then the other.

Applying healing ointment, he finally got some band-aids, carefully placing them over her wounds.

When it was all done, he felt pretty satisfied with himself and even prouder of her for taking it in stride like a champion.

‘Can you give me your hands?’ He asked as he lowered her dress over her legs, smoothing it out and dusting the dirt off it.

Something flickered in his pet’s eyes. She hesitated for a moment before she offered her hands to him.

Just like with her knees, he took his time cleaning each wound, his whole focus on making sure each scrape was perfectly taken care of.

Yet as he gently cupped her hand, bringing the wipe to the bottom of her palm, he felt himself thrust in the past. A long ago memory reached the surface as he saw himself thirteen years back, wiping her hands just as he did now. There was familiarity, but there was also something else…an aching emptiness that he could not explain.

Pushing everything down, he focused on finishing her up, applying some ointment before adding the band-aid.

When he was done, he stood up, assessing her carefully.

‘Thank you.’

The words were so soft, so quiet he thought he misheard.

But he didn’t.

Slowly, she brought her head up, meeting his gaze for the first time.

‘Why did you run away from me?’ He asked equally as softly.

He recognized the precariousness of the moment and the fact that she was still on edge, her entire body wound tight.

She opened her mouth to answer, but instead she just shook her head, shutting him out again.

‘Zia,’ he took a seat next to her, taking her hand and holding it in his. She made to remove it, one sudden movement that was over before it even begun. Somehow, she decided to allow herself that small touch.

She was likely still emotional from the book, Michele told himself. That was why she’d run. He’d caught her in a vulnerable moment and she hadn’t wanted him to see her like that.

‘Talk to me,’ he urged softly.

‘Why are you here? You’ve been following me, haven’t you?’ she asked in a low but even voice.

‘You already know the answer.’

‘Why?’

Slowly, she turned to look at him, giving him the privilege of gazing into those mesmerizing eyes of hers.

‘Because everything you do interests me,’ he replied, almost flippantly.

She flinched, but she quickly masked it.

‘I didn’t think anything interested you other than your own person,’ she grumbled under her breath.

He blinked, shocked at her words, before he burst into laughter.

‘Well, you can officially add yourself to the list now.’

‘So you admit you’re a self-centered bastard?’ She said the words so smoothly and without even blinking that it took Michele wholly by surprise.

‘Of course I admit it. I never made a secret of that,’ he chuckled.

A small smile played at her lips, but she quickly recovered, forcing her mouth in a firm line.

‘Why that book?’

‘Huh?’ Her brows went up in question.

‘Why did you skip class to read that book?’

She blinked a couple of times as awareness sunk in. Not only was he aware she’d skipped her class, but he also knew what she’d been listening to.

‘Of course you’d send me a Trojan horse,’ she mumbled.

Michele kept his remark to himself that he was surprised she knew what that was. He was learning to keep a lot of his thoughts to himself because he couldn’t have been more wrong about her.

‘Tell me about the book, pet,’ the word slipped from him before he could help himself.

She grimaced at the appellation but she didn’t correct him again. She simply stared ahead as she replied to him in the same emotionless tone as before—one belying the emotive display he’d seen only moments before.

‘The heroine was relatable,’ she shrugged, seemingly not going to elaborate more on the topic.

Michele had only heard the end of the audiobook, and even then he’d mostly spaced out as he’d lost himself in watching her. Nonetheless, he remembered some characteristics of the heroine—one being that everyone underestimated her.

And that made him even more curious about what his pet meant. How did she relate to the heroine?

He needed to know it all. So he pushed further.

‘In what way?’

Giving him a harsh stare, she asked with unusual aggression.

‘What do you want from me, Michele? Just what do you want?’

‘A conversation,’ he smoothly replied. ‘Just a normal conversation. Is that so hard?’

‘I won’t make myself look pitiful in your eyes if that’s what you’re after.’

‘Why would it be? I’m simply curious about you and why that book affected you so.’

She narrowed her eyes at him.

‘I know you,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re always looking for a weakness to exploit. So why would I share something so private when you’d just take it and turn it against me?’

He was flabbergasted at her accusation for a brief moment before pride suffused his chest. He liked this combative side of her and the way she called him out on his bullshit. But as much as he admired it, he also wanted—no, needed—to know her thought process.

‘What if I promise to behave myself?’ he gave her a sheepish smile. ‘I’m not looking to start an argument, pet. I’m genuinely curious,’ he admitted.

She must have sensed the truth in his words because she gave a slight nod.

‘Right,’ she shrugged. ‘I’m probably getting ahead of myself thinking you’d even remember anything I say. After all, I’m only good for one thing for you,’ she leveled him with her grave stare before smiling cynically, ‘and even that not so much, isn’t that right?’

‘Maybe I’m trying to see if you’re good for something else too,’ he threw the option out there.

‘Is this your new attempt to bulldoze your way into my life? Because I won’t…’

‘Just answer the damn question, Zia. There’s no trap, no hidden motive.’

She didn’t seem appeased, maybe even more belligerent. But she gave him what he was looking for.

‘She proved everyone wrong through hard work and perseverance,’ she shrugged. ‘I know I’m not very gifted but I’d like to think that if I do my best and put in the work there will be a happily ever after for me too,’ the cadence of her voice dipped just as a blush stained her cheeks.

Sneaking a glance at him, she quickly averted her eyes.

‘You can laugh now,’ she whispered.

‘Why would I laugh? It’s an admirable point of view. You just got one thing wrong.’

Frowning, she fully turned towards him.

‘There is no such thing as happily ever after,’ he stated confidently.

‘You’re just a cynic,’ she accused with an adorable pout.

‘Maybe,’ he shrugged. ‘But do tell. Has anything in your life given you an indication that there’s something better out there?’ He arched a brow as he awaited her answer.

She mulled over the question for a moment.

‘No,’ she started, and his smile widened. ‘But just because I haven’t seen it doesn’t mean there isn’t. I can’t generalize based on my limited knowledge of the world. I’m sure there are people out there who live very happy lives,’ she nodded, proud of herself and her answer.

‘You’re too optimistic, pet. See, that’s your first mistake. Just because someone else is happy doesn’t mean you will be too. Life isn’t fair like that.’

‘If I’m optimistic then you’re awfully pessimistic,‘ she shot back, a hidden fire in her eyes.

He held his tongue as he was about to sarcastically praise her for her choice of words. But then it suddenly struck him that despite her disability and her age, she was quite well-spoken.

Why hadn’t he taken note of that before?

The answer was simple. Because he’d had his preconceived notions about her so he’d shoved her in a box which he’d never bothered to open again.

‘And grouchy. And arrogant. And self-important. And just…’

‘Do tell. What else am I?’ He leaned back, enthralled by her attempts to insult him.

‘An unfeeling bastard,’ she pursed her lips in satisfaction. His widened in amusement.

‘I’m not objecting. You can go on,’ he motioned, inviting her to shred his character some more. Whereas before people had met their end for suggesting far less than she was, he couldn’t find it in him to be mad at the exchange. If anything, he enjoyed the little spar, feeling more relaxed than he’d been in days.

‘You remind me a lot of the hero in the book, actually,’ she suddenly mentioned, and Michele’s ears perked up.

‘Hear that,’ he laughed. ‘Me, a hero.’

‘Well, he wasn’t a hero in the beginning either,’ she licked her lips, slowly lifting her gaze to his. ‘But he evolved into one.’

Michele’s expression turned serious.

‘Don’t make me into something I’m not, pet,’ he warned quietly.

A wry smile pulled at her lips.

‘Don’t worry about that. I’m not about to make the same mistake twice. I may be dumb, but I’m not that dumb,’ she laughed nervously.

‘You’re not dumb.’ He didn’t know why he felt the need to defend her—though it was from herself—but it didn’t sit right with him that anyone should insult her like that.

The words took her by surprise.

‘You have a funny way of showing it,’ she shook her head.

‘What do you mean,’ he frowned.

He might have made fun of her at times, might have even thought of her like that, but he’d never outrightly insulted her to her face.

‘This,’ she waved between the two of them. ‘This is you thinking I’m more stupid than I actually am,’ she took a deep breath. ‘Do you really think that one cozy moment like this is going to erase all the pain you’ve caused me? That because I’m talking to you right now I’m ready to forgive and forget?’

‘Well,’ he gave her his charming smile. ‘Yes.’

His pet rolled her eyes as if he’d said the most inane thing.

‘Then tell me one thing,’ she turned towards him, grabbing his hands with her own, the touch confusing him and leaving him reeling. ‘Why did you insist on the abortion? Why were you so against our child?’

She did her best to keep her voice from trembling as she directed her gaze towards him in the most pure, most artless way. Though her tone bore artificial strength, her eyes gave her away—she was giving him the last chance.

He grit his teeth at the question, knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer.

‘No child of mine will ever be born, pet,’ he told her squarely. ‘Never.’

‘Why?’ she kept foolishly probing, a semblance of hope in her voice.

‘Because only death awaits that child,’ he said curtly, removing her touch and looking away, thereby ending the discussion.

He didn’t specify what type of death, or who would dole it out.

Venezia didn’t ask either.

She looked at him for a few more moments, memorizing his features as he was in that instant—the most real he’d ever been with her. The sun emphasized the paleness of his skin and the way his irises seemed almost translucent. Not unlike the first time he’d set his eyes on her, she got butterflies in her stomach and she couldn’t help but recall the good times—those instances in which he’d been the closest thing she’d ever had to a friend. Her gaze traveled lower, to his lips, her own tingling in response as her body remembered his soft, sweet kisses, not the bruising ones. And she preferred it that way. She would remember only the good.

She looked her fill and stored that image away because she knew it would be the last time they’d be that cordial.

At some point, Michele was going to find out the truth.

He was going to find out that the doctor he’d forced to perform the abortion had not done so. That Venezia had begged her profusely until she’d relented.

He was going to find out that the child would be born—against all odds.

A surge of maternal protectiveness took shape within Venezia.

Michele might try to harm her child—for it was hers and hers alone—but he would never succeed. That was a vow she made to herself—even if her heart bled.

So let the war begin.