Page 55 of The Italian's Doorstep Surprise

His cruel, sensual lips curled. “I lied.” He narrowed his eyes. “And I’ll never trust you again. Never.”

Honora stared at him in the harsh, cold silvery-green moonlight.

She felt shaken to the core. He saw her as his enemy now, she realized—all because she’d tried to heal him.

Did Nico really have no love inside his soul? No ability to care for anyone but himself?

What kind of husband would that make him? What kind of father?

Nico Ferraro is a selfish bastard. Benny’s words came back to haunt her. He doesn’t care for anyone but himself. And sooner or later he’s going to hurt you. A man like that can do nothing else.

Shivering, Honora wrapped her arms around her baby bump in the sparkly, pretty cocktail dress. “So I’m your enemy now?”

“You ambushed me. Betrayed me.”

She lifted her gaze. “And how do you intend to punish me?”

Setting his jaw, Nico turned to a nearby table. He poured himself a drink of Scotch from a nearly empty bottle. He drank a long sip and didn’t answer.

She watched him in despair. “I thought you weren’t going to drink as long as I was pregnant.”

; “And I thought you were on my side.” He took another sip. “Seems we’re both a disappointment.”

She had the sudden memory of her parents’ arguments when she was a child, as her mother had raged at her father over his drinking, the two of them clashing and blaming each other. Honora had always felt so small, hiding in a corner or outside the doorway.

After one very loud fight when she was nine years old, her mother had taken Honora back to her childhood home. I never should have married him, she’d overheard her mother sob late that night in the kitchen. And Granddad, putting his hand on her shoulder, had replied sadly, You never should have gotten pregnant before you knew what he was.

He hadn’t known Honora was in earshot. But as she’d crept away to her sleeping bag down the hall, she’d known her parents’ unhappiness was her fault, because she had been born. Later that night, her mother had found her crying.

She blinked. “I would give anything to see my mother again,” she said quietly. “And my father. I understand better now. I wish I could tell them that. And that I’ll always love them.” She lifted her gaze. “I wonder if that’s what you were wanting this whole time, Nico. Not revenge. Connection. For your father to acknowledge you. And your stepmother. It was never about the villa. I think you were just trying to get their attention. I think you wanted...to be a family.”

He stared at her, aghast. “Are you out of your mind? I hated them. I vowed to destroy them. And I have.”

Honora’s shoulders slumped.

Feeling like a burden as a child, she’d done everything she could to be loving and kind and giving, even to the point of eating things she didn’t like, and doing things she didn’t want to do.

But Nico, feeling unloved, had gone the other way. He wanted to punish anyone and everyone. And he would never stop. Never forgive.

“Now I know I can’t trust you, I’m not sure how our marriage can succeed.” He drank another gulp of Scotch as he looked out toward the dark moon-swept sea. He looked back at her, his face in shadow. “And it must. For the baby.”

Honora’s hands froze over her belly. She felt the delicate sparkling beadwork, rough beneath her fingertips.

I’m not sure how our marriage can succeed. And it must. For the baby.

She looked down at her baby bump.

Did she want her daughter to spend her whole life feeling as Honora had—that her parents were trapped in a cycle of misery and blame, all for the apparent benefit of their miserable, blamed child?

She had the sudden memory of her mother’s beautiful, sad face when she’d found Honora crying that night in her sleeping bag.

Oh, my darling, don’t cry. It’s my fault, all my fault. We’ll go back home tomorrow. Her young, heartbroken mother had started crying too, and hugged her tight. Just be happy, Honora. Please. Her voice had caught. You have to be happy. For all of us.

Honora suddenly looked up.

“It was never my fault,” she whispered.