I hate that everything she’s saying is true. Sofia will be ruined. Everything she hoped for in her future will be out of reach, at least out of reach in the way that she wants it.

  The urge to scream presses against my vocal cords, but I somehow refrain.

  What’s my better option? To go along with Aurora’s plan and say the child is mine and never have to touch her or tell the truth and be free of her? The problem with the latter is that even though I’d be free of Aurora, I still couldn’t have Sofia. She’d be looked at as unpure. People would question whether she’s slept with anyone else…

  An image of the tie with the Irish colors flashes across my mind.

  She still might not be accepted by my family as worthy of being the don’s wife and she’d be ruined anyway.

  Fuck!

  I need to do what I have to in order to protect Sofia’s future, as hard as it is. And I want to enjoy the small amount of time I still have with Sofia.

  “Fine. We’ll pretend the child is mine and you won’t breathe a word about me and Sofia to anyone else. But I don’t want your pregnancy coming out until after the wedding. Agreed?”

  Though I’d never hit a woman, the urge is so strong when I see the self-satisfied grin slowly form on Aurora’s face because she’s gotten what she wanted.

  “Agreed,” she says with a nod. “Glad you came to the correct conclusion.”

  “Get out of my room. I can’t stand to look at you anymore.”

  “That’s fine, I’ll go. But make sure you keep things more discreet with Sofia from here on out. I don’t want gossip flying around that my fiancé is sticking his dick in Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes.”

  I don’t even respond to the insult to Sofia. If I open my mouth and address Aurora, I’m liable to rage and then everyone will know our business.

  But the minute she’s out of the room, I take my phone from my pocket and throw it against the door, where it shatters to the floor in pieces.

  I stand, breathing heavily, trying to gather my thoughts. I need to talk to someone, and I don’t have a lot of options. It can’t be my sister. She’d no doubt use this pregnancy to ruin Aurora and, in the process, ruin her best friend. Mira can be shortsighted at times. I can’t talk to Sofia about it for obvious reasons. That leaves one person.

  I go knock on Tommaso’s door, but he’s not there. Again.

  Where the fuck is he spending his time these days?

  As if I don’t have enough to deal with. With a frustrated growl, I step away from the door and stomp to the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time until I reach the fifth floor. I don’t bother knocking when I get to Sofia’s door. I just take the ever-present key from my pocket and let myself in.

  She’s not there, must still be downstairs.

  That’s okay. I feel a little calmer just being surrounded by her things, her scent.

  I’ll wait. I have no choice. She’s what I need.

  30

  SOFIA

  After saying goodbye to everyone in the lounge, I make my way up to my room. I have some homework I need to finish before Antonio arrives tonight.

  I enter my dorm room, and I’m surprised he’s already here, standing in the center, staring at me with an intense, raw need. He says nothing as he stalks over to me, cups my face, and brings his lips to mine. He devours me—there’s no other word for it. This kiss is filled with a desperation I don’t understand, and when he pulls away, studying my face and tracing his fingertips down my cheek, that same desperation is reflected in his eyes.

  “I need you.” His voice is hoarse and filled with vulnerability.

  One of my hands goes to his cheek, the other into the hair at the back of his head. “I’m here. I’m here.”

  It seems to be what he needs to hear because a look of relief passes over his features and he kisses me again.

  We’re naked within minutes, barely able to stop kissing while we undress the other as though having our lips on each other’s is providing us with oxygen to breathe.

  Antonio picks me up and walks me to the bed, never once diverting his eyes from my gaze. Somehow, he makes it there without stumbling, as if he’s memorized the path. He sets me down before he climbs on top of me, and I part my legs. Antonio holds himself up with his elbows and studies my face, his fingertips lightly brushing over all my features as though he’s trying to memorize them. Then he gently rocks into me with a sigh.

  His pace is slow and steady but somehow still intense. I not only feel my orgasm building in my core, but my chest expands. As if it’s being so shoved full of feelings, they have nowhere to go.

  “Sei la mia vita,” he whispers, bringing his lips to my forehead. “La mia anima.” His mouth trails a path up the side of my neck to my ear. “Cuore mio.”

  My eyes sting with unshed tears, listening to this man pour his heart out to me. Before I can return the sentiment, his lips are on mine. I pour everything I’m feeling, everything I’ve ever felt for this man into our kiss, and when he pulls away, I cup his face.

  “Antonio…”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t say it. Don’t. It will make it too hard.”

  I suck back the words—that I love him—and nod in understanding. If I hear him tell me he loves me, will I be able to let him go? This feels like a shift in our relationship to another level and a goodbye all in one.

  As he pushes and pulls himself in and out of my body, my climax draws nearer and nearer. When it hits me, rather than feeling as though I’m being shot out of a cannon, it feels like a slow rolling wave overtaking me and I’m lost under an ocean of bliss until I breach the surface and come up for air.

  Antonio holds himself inside me, groaning with an expression of pure rapture as he empties himself inside me, then he collapses on top of me. It’s only seconds before he rolls us over so that I’m lying on him. We’re still connected.

  Neither of us speaks. We lie there holding one another, basking in our lovemaking. It feels almost as though we’ll break the spell if one of us utters a word.

  I drift off in the afternoon sun that streaks across my dorm room, lying in the arms of the man I love, wishing we could stay like this forever.

  Monday night at the dining hall, Aurora is all over Antonio again. It’s enough to kill my appetite, but I force down some food, trying to act as normal as always.

  Mira sits with us and gives me a few looks through dinner as though she feels sorry for me. It doesn’t make the situation any better. Antonio is in no way encouraging Aurora. He never does, but the fact that she’s the one who holds the right to touch him in public stings like the lash of a whip.

  It’s just the four of us at the table. Mira and I came early in the hopes of avoiding Antonio and Aurora. He must have had the same idea.

  Aurora barely touches her dinner. In fact, she’s mostly just moving it around her plate, from what I see.

  After the four of us sit in strained silence for over a minute, Mira pipes up beside me. “What’s up, Aurora? Trying to lose a few extra pounds before the big day?”

  “I don’t have a few extra pounds to lose. You, on the other hand, might want to get started on your diet. Our wedding isn’t far off now, is it, sweetie?” She pulls Antonio’s hand to her.

  He looks as though he wants to rip it away, which is some consolation, but just seeing her touch him makes me want to vomit.

  “As if.” Mira glares.

  “I’m feeling a little nauseous, if you must know.”

  Antonio stiffens, and I look between them with some sort of sixth sense drawing my attention.

  “How come?” I ask her.

  Aurora directs her cunning smile at me. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Aurora—” Antonio says, eyes wide.

  She leans in. “I’m pregnant,” she whispers.

  The floor drops out from under me. That’s the only explanation for why I’m falling with no end in sight.

  Mira jolts out of her seat and leans in over the table. “What did you say?”

  My gaze snaps to Antonio, waiting for him to say it’s not true, but he looks away from me. Bile races up my throat and I swallow it back.

  “You heard me.” Aurora takes Antonio’s hand on the table and intertwines their fingers. “We weren’t expecting for it to happen quite so fast, but we should be okay to keep it under wraps until after the wedding. It’s still early days.” She smiles at him as though they couldn’t ask for a happier surprise, while Antonio’s face is a blank slate.

  “Excuse me.” I stand. “I just remembered that I have something I have to do.”

  “Don’t run off, Sofia. Don’t you want to congratulate us?” Her thrilled laugh echoes after me as I race out of the dining hall.

  “Sofia! Wait!”

  Mira’s voice sounds behind me, but I don’t stop running. I can’t. I need to be anywhere but here, in this reality where the man I love lied to me and betrayed me for months. I keep running until my legs burn and each breath pulls fire into my lungs. Then I stop and bend at the waist, the tears unwilling to stay at bay.

  A hand rubs my back and Mira bends beside me. I straighten and so does she. Her arms wrap around me in a tight embrace. Tears leak out, free-falling down my cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, Sofia. I’m so sorry.” She squeezes me harder the more tears that come.

  I pull away and wipe my face. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault. This is me and my stupid heart that got me into this position.”

  A pair of Russian girls scoot past us on the path, eyeing us curiously.

  Mira wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go back to your room, where we’ll have some more privacy.”

  I move but shake my head. “Not my room. He’ll come looking for me there… if he comes looking at all.”

  “My room then.”

  I nod morosely. Less than five minutes later, Mira unlocks the door to her and Marcelo’s room. Thankfully, he’s not there.

  “He’s probably gone to dinner with the guys,” she says.

  I nod and head straight for the couch, where I flop down and bury my face in the cushions, letting the tears loose again. Mira sits on the edge and rubs my back while I sob.

  “He told me she didn’t mean anything to him… that they weren’t sleeping together.”

  She sighs and gives me a pitying look. “Did you see how much she enjoyed telling us? God, she’s so evil.”

  “She knew it would piss you off.” Poor Aurora doesn’t even know that she scored bonus points with me and my reaction, though she’s probably wondering where the fire is with how I raced out of there.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I take her hand. “Stop apologizing. This isn’t on you. It’s on him. And on me because I was stupid enough to believe the lies he told me.” That makes a certain type of dread settle in my stomach. “Maybe it was all a lie.”

  How he pretended to care for me, to make love to me… maybe I was just another body to get his rocks off. Maybe he has a thing for virgins.

  I can’t even say the thought out loud. It’s too painful.

  “I’m going to kill him,” she seethes.

  I sit up and shake my head. “No, this has nothing to do with the two of you. This is between him and me.”

  “The hell it is—”

  A knock sounds at the door and we freeze and look at each other. Neither of us moves. Then another knock comes, followed shortly after by Antonio’s voice.

  “I know you’re in there, Mira. Open the damn door before I bust it down.”

  Mira eyes me as though waiting for me to tell her what to do. I nod sharply.

  Might as well get the inevitable over with. I knew there would be an ending to this thing between us eventually. I just didn’t think it would be this soon or this painful. But maybe it was always going to be this painful, regardless of the circumstances.

  Begrudgingly, Mira gets up off the couch and opens the door. Antonio pushes past her as soon as the door is cracked open and stops when he sees me on the couch, staring at me with something in his eyes, what I can’t quite tell.

  Maybe I never could. I once thought love lived there, true deep feelings, and obviously, I was way off the mark.

  “You’re a piece of shit.” Mira whirls, slamming the door. “You can tell your fiancée that she can forget me being a bridesmaid at your wedding. I don’t care what people think.”

  “Get the fuck out of here, Mira.” He doesn’t break eye contact with me.

  I glance at Mira and she’s infuriated. Her face is red. “This is my fucking room!”

  “Mira.” Her head snaps in my direction. “Can we talk alone, please?” I ask.

  She draws in a deep breath through her nose and looks between the two of us, turning silently before leaving.

  Antonio and I continue our standoff, staring at each other, neither of us saying a word.

  Finally, I break the silence. “When did you find out?”

  He hesitates before speaking. “Yesterday.” Only now does he drop his gaze from mine to look at the floor.

  That’s why he came to me so desperately yesterday afternoon. He knew it would be our last time together.

  I press a hand to my stomach and try to suck in some air. Antonio steps toward me and I bolt up from the couch, arm outstretched. “Don’t come any closer.”

  My words seem as though they hit him like a dagger if his expression is anything to go by. I’ve never denied him.

  “She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone until after the wedding.”

  My eyes narrow. “Is that supposed to make me feel better somehow? You told me there was nothing between you two. You said you weren’t sleeping with her.”

  His hand fists at his side. Open. Closed. Open. Closed. “I’m sorry.”

  My hands fly out to my sides and now I’m bridging the distance between us, pushing him in the chest. “You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say is that you’re sorry?”

  He catches my wrists and holds me in place. We’re inches apart, both breathing heavily, staring at the other. But unlike a day earlier, I have no desire to kiss this man—I’d rather spit in his face.

  I rip my wrists from his hold and step back. “Was any of it real, or was it all a big lie?”

  A pained look crosses his face, and he pushes his hand through his hair, but he says nothing.

  Some sort of sound echoes through the room. I think it’s coming from me.

  “You don’t even have the balls to admit that this meant nothing to you.” A caustic laugh leaves my lips. “Just leave, Antonio. I don’t know why you bothered chasing after me in the first place.”

  He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, eyes full of despair, but he snaps his jaw shut, a look of resolve twisting his features. “Take care, Sofia.”

  Those are his parting words before the shattered pieces of my heart crush underneath his feet as he walks out of the room.

  “Go fuck yourself, Antonio!” I yell as the door shuts behind him.

  31

  ANTONIO

  I never should have trusted Aurora to keep her mouth shut. She’s cruel to the core.

  Most people would say I’m not a good person because of the things I have to do as a member of the Mafia, but there’s a difference between Aurora and me. I do what I have to in order to survive and for the good of the family. Aurora gets some sick sort of pleasure from causing people pain, riling them up.

  Which was exactly her goal when she announced the pregnancy at dinner tonight.

  God, the look on Sofia’s face when the words left Aurora’s mouth. I felt as if someone had poured bleach down my throat.

  It was even worse being alone in that room with Sofia standing in the crater that was the aftermath of the bomb Aurora had detonated.

  I wanted to tell Sofia I love her. That I know beyond a doubt that I will never feel for anyone the way I feel for her. That leaving her hurting in that room and knowing I was the cause felt like ripping off a limb.

  But I couldn’t. It’s better for her if she hates me. It will make it easier for her to move on. And with her reputation intact, she’ll be able to find someone worthy of her.

  “Fuck!” I punch the wall in the room and my fist flies through the drywall from the force, leaving a jagged hole of damage behind.

  The pain in my fist doesn’t even register because of the pain in my chest.

  Before I can think much about it, I’m out of my room and barging into Tommaso’s. He looks up from where he’s typing something into his phone on his bed. His eyes flare, and he tosses the phone aside.

  “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  Something about his reaction to seeing me makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on edge.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, nodding toward the phone.

  He shrugs. “Nothing.” Then his forehead creases. “What happened to your fist?”

  I glance down and my knuckles are red and scraped up. I hadn’t even noticed.

  I came in here with one purpose—to ease my burdened soul—but now I have another. I’ve let this weird shit with him linger too long anyway.

  “What’s going on with you?”

  He straightens where he sits. “What do you mean? My dad was just tortured and murdered, isn’t it obvious?” His expression challenges me to suggest otherwise.

  I will. “Cut the shit. What’s really going on? You’ve been acting weird, you’re barely in your room, and you looked like a kid caught with his hand in the headmaster’s daughter’s panties when I walked in.”

  “You’re losing it, man. Nothing’s going on.”

 

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