Page 55 of The Italian's Doorstep Surprise
His cruel, sensual lips curled. âI lied.â He narrowed his eyes. âAnd Iâll never trust you again. Never.â
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 realizedâall because sheâd 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. Bennyâs words came back to haunt her. He doesnât care for anyone but himself. And sooner or later heâs 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. âSo Iâm your enemy now?â
âYou ambushed me. Betrayed me.â
She lifted her gaze. âAnd how do you intend to punish me?â
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 didnât answer.
She watched him in despair. âI thought you werenât going to drink as long as I was pregnant.â
; âAnd I thought you were on my side.â He took another sip. âSeems weâre both a disappointment.â
She had the sudden memory of her parentsâ 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, sheâd 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 hadnât known Honora was in earshot. But as sheâd crept away to her sleeping bag down the hall, sheâd known her parentsâ unhappiness was her fault, because she had been born. Later that night, her mother had found her crying.
She blinked. âI would give anything to see my mother again,â she said quietly. âAnd my father. I understand better now. I wish I could tell them that. And that Iâll always love them.â She lifted her gaze. âI wonder if thatâs 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.â
He stared at her, aghast. âAre you out of your mind? I hated them. I vowed to destroy them. And I have.â
Honoraâs shoulders slumped.
Feeling like a burden as a child, sheâd done everything she could to be loving and kind and giving, even to the point of eating things she didnât like, and doing things she didnât 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.
âNow I know I canât trust you, Iâm not sure how our marriage can succeed.â 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. âAnd it must. For the baby.â
Honoraâs hands froze over her belly. She felt the delicate sparkling beadwork, rough beneath her fingertips.
Iâm 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 hadâthat 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 motherâs beautiful, sad face when sheâd found Honora crying that night in her sleeping bag.
Oh, my darling, donât cry. Itâs my fault, all my fault. Weâll 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.
âIt was never my fault,â she whispered.