“I hate that you can’t see her grow up. I know there was no other way, but it kills me, my love. It kills me.” Papà had said something like that to Penelope as I’d approached the bedroom from what I could remember now. Maybe not word for word, surely my memory had distorted it, but what if . . .?
“I never saw any pictures of Sophia, my mother, while she was pregnant,” I said softly, my eyes flicking open. “Father said she thought of herself as fat and wouldn’t go in front of a camera, but what pregnant woman doesn’t want a photo? I hated her for leaving, so I never pressed. Never asked questions about her. But what if Sophia wasn’t my mother?” My eyes widened. “What if Sophia left because my father had a child with another woman?”
“But why would Penelope give you to your father instead of raising you? You were born before she married Simon, but she couldn’t hide her pregnancy from her father. And still, how would she have hidden that from Simon?” Sebastian looked up from the iPad, a frustrated look on his face.
I took the tablet and saw he’d tried three more translator sites, and they all turned up the same results.
The meaning was clear.
I was Penelope’s daughter.
My mother is Alliance.
It felt like I was losing Chanel all over again, this time as a sister.
“Romeo and Juliet,” I mumbled, hating that play even more now. “Lovers who couldn’t be together but also had a child.” Bile worked into my throat, and my insides quivered as if I might throw up. “Atlas is my half brother.”
“Emilia.” Sean swooped by my side in an instant as if realizing I was about to fall.
I’m a Calibrisi. I don’t fucking faint. Don’t do it. But . . .
“He lied to me. He lied,” I kept saying, over and over again, my vision clouding from anger. “He told me to marry an Italian. Preserve the bloodline. Our family heritage. The legacy.” I was visibly shaking as my shock turned into something ugly and painful. “And all of this time, I’m the daughter of a Greek woman. The daughter of a Castellanos.” I swallowed. “The daughter of the enemy.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sean
Emilia hadn’t spoken a word since we packed our bags and left my parents’ home last night. Not a single syllable as she stared out the window while I tore down the roads to get to my flat. Going to the hotel had been out of the question. I couldn’t stomach the thought that Luca had watched us making love in that bedroom. I wanted to set the fecking suite on fire.
Sebastian discovered the video cameras exactly where Sara had said they would be in the penthouses. He also tasked League guards to discreetly watch over Sara, as well as Ethan. And as much as Ethan hated it, he had to stay by her side so as not to draw suspicion in case Luca had eyes on Sara.
I couldn’t believe Atlas, Alliance leader of Greece and France, had never taken a life, but I had. I shoved the thought from my mind. I didn’t need to go to a dark place, not when I needed to do my absolute best to be the light for this woman before me.
It was Christmas morning, and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t celebrating with my family. I couldn’t possibly leave Emilia’s side after everything we’d learned last night.
I tucked my hands into the pockets of my black sweats and went into my ensuite to find Emilia soaking in the tub, still wearing the pajamas I’d changed her into when we arrived at my flat.
She’d had a traumatic night. One shocking blow after another, rendering her speechless. And I didn’t blame her.
So much of what she’d been told and grew up believing had been a lie. The most important person in her life, her father, had not only hidden the truth from her, he’d forced her to make a promise to him that was downright insulting since he not only loved a Greek woman, but he’d had a child with her.
This was a side of Emilia I’d never seen. Vulnerable didn’t even come close to describing it, and it killed me to watch her. To see her suffering. And I didn’t know how to fix it.
Before Ethan and Sara had shown up last night, I’d been on the verge of walking away from Emilia, worried she’d never be able to give me her heart, even though she held mine. But now, I didn’t know if the truth she’d learned, as well as her fate with The League, would tip the scales for better, or for worse, between us.
I leaned into the doorjamb and watched her, not quite ready to enter the bathroom. Not sure what to say. She’d slept in my arms last night. Quiet. Not even crying. I think her silence scared me more than anything. I knew how to work with anger or tears, but the quiet felt oddly loud.
I still couldn’t grasp how the hell her father, and not Penelope, had ended up being the one to raise her. I was curious who knew the truth about Emilia aside from Penelope—and now Atlas. Of course, Atlas didn’t believe his mother. Would he ever? Would the fact Emilia was his half sister change his plans, which involved killing his own flesh and blood in the name of a woman he loved?
The sins of the father. Wasn’t that a cornerstone for most tragedies, damn it?
“Merry Christmas,” I said softly. I honestly didn’t expect a reaction given the strange state she was in—sitting in the tub wearing pink pajama shorts and a camisole. I knew if I looked, I’d be able to see her nipples poking through the wet fabric, but not from arousal, and that knowledge only added to my sex drive being buried six meters beneath a boulder of holy shite news.
“You should be with your family.” Her sad brown eyes slowly moved to my face. “I’m sorry I ruined your Christmas.”
I pushed away from the door, thankful to hear her voice again. I knelt next to her and reached for her hand draped over the side of the tub. She didn’t resist, and I laced our fingers together.
“I, um.” Her lower lip began to wobble, and I saw what was finally coming.
The tears.
Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly climbed into the tub, sweats and all, sending water sloshing over the sides, then pulled her into my arms as she cried, her emotions shifting from stunned and into grief.
I didn’t shush her, just held her tight to my frame and let her sob. Weep for every lie she’d been told. Every year she’d lost out with her mother. For the sister mistakenly murdered, possibly by Simon for wanting vengeance for his wife’s affair with the enemy. Simon had clearly known killing his wife would have resulted in his own death at the hand of Milos, Penelope’s father, so he had to go after Emilia instead. It really was a Shakespearean tragedy.
“This isn’t me,” she mumbled into my chest. “But I’m afraid I have no idea who I am anymore.”
“I know who you are,” I whispered into her ear as I cradled her head against my body. “A strong and intelligent woman. With a kind heart. A beautiful soul.” I inhaled when she pulled back and found my eyes. “The woman I love.” I’d fight for her. I’d been crazy to think for one second I could have ever truly walked away last night and not found myself coming back again. I kept coming back no matter how many times she pushed, didn’t I? Drawn to her for all of time, like two star-crossed lovers, our fates intertwined. But the difference was our story would not end tragically.
Her glossy eyes held mine, and I knew she wanted to say more. To share her feelings, but her mouth tightened instead, and she set her forehead to mine. Her hands wandered over the sides of my arms, scraping her short nails lightly over my skin.
She was searching for something in her touch. Seeking comfort, maybe. I’d give her whatever she needed. However she needed it.
“Make love to me, Sean.” Her eyes found mine again. “You’re the only thing I know is real in my life. The only part of me untainted by lies and deceit.” She spun around and set her mouth to mine, and I growled out a husky sound of approval when our tongues twined together. My chest grew tight as emotions warred inside me. “Love me, please. Love me, Sean.”
“Always.” I held the sides of her face as I kissed her tenderly, but when she shifted on top of my lap, even with those thin shorts on, hell, all bets were off. It was hard to
be gentle when she was grinding against my cock. “I feckin’ love the hell out of you, woman. So. Damn. Much.” My deep voice punctuated the air with each word as I kept her face framed between my palms and stared deep into her eyes.
She rolled her lips inward for a brief moment and then nodded as if she accepted my words as the truth. Finally accepted my love.
A few minutes later, I stood and peeled off our wet clothes, then carried her to my bed. She was all I wanted for Christmas, but damn, I wanted her to be happy. She deserved it.
“My letter to Santa, my wish,” I rasped against her ear, our bodies still damp from the bath, “was to be with you,” I confessed.
She clutched my arms as I held myself over her and buried my cock deep inside her warm sex, then pulled almost all the way out before plunging in again. “In some strange way, I guess I got my wish, too,” she responded.
I lowered myself closer to her and swept my tongue along the seam of her lips, brushing our noses together. “And what was your wish?”
I felt her breath fan out on my mouth before she slanted her lips to mine, stealing another kiss. “That I’d be able to break my promise to Papà without feeling guilty. That I’d be able to be with whoever I wanted without that burden weighing me down. Live my life how I want with whom I want,” she whispered.
I lifted myself up enough to look into her eyes. Hearing her wish shouldn’t make me feel this amazing, especially after everything we’d learned since yesterday, but today, on Christmas, I had Emilia in my arms. And she was returning my love in maybe the only way she knew how to right now, with her touch. With her eyes. With the way that she let me in when we were together like this. “And what does that mean?”
She swallowed, a sheen of emotion covering her big, brown eyes again. “That means I’m yours.”
I smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “Don’t you know you’ve been mine since Vegas?”
“An emergency virtual meeting has been called for tonight, Christmas, and we’re not included? Are you serious?” I snaked a hand around the nape of my neck and squeezed. “We’re League leaders, for feck’s sake.”
Sebastian’s shoulders fell, no doubt weighed down by a shite ton of guilt. He’d spoken to Édouard Moreau, the French League leader and Luca’s uncle earlier in the day. Moreau had the most pull in The League, but based on the devastated look on Sebastian’s face, he already knew the outcome of the upcoming meeting.
Emilia came out of my bedroom wearing one of my Trinity tees that went to her mid-thighs. Her long legs carried her our way, and I had to pull my focus up to her beautiful face, once again without any makeup.
“Anything new from Atlas and the listening device?” she asked, ignoring the fact she must have overheard Sebastian’s announcement of The League’s emergency meeting to discuss a matter of utmost importance. The fact that none of us were included meant they had received the video footage of Emilia and me, and we were the subject of their discussion.
“No. But the tracker shows Atlas in Monaco. I sent someone to his location late last night who informed me Atlas has been training at a gym since before the sun came up,” Sebastian answered her. “He’s prepping for The Final Hour. And he must be worried if he’s spending his Christmas in the gym.”
I dropped down on the sofa in my living room. The bubble of bliss Emilia and I had trapped ourselves in all day by making love had burst, and we’d been pushed into reality with a harsh shove.
“How is everyone? How was Christmas?” Emilia asked cheerily, clearly avoiding mentioning The League as she joined me on the couch.
Sebastian frowned and set his back to one of the columns in the living room, quietly observing us. His jaw clenched, worry in his eyes. “Not the same without you,” he finally said. “But Adam managed to keep Cara and Ronan calm.”
The conversation with my parents as to why Emilia and I had abruptly left last night wasn’t one I was looking forward to having.
“The League will terminate both of your positions. Possibly mine, as well as Cole’s and Alessia’s, if they believe we kept your relationship a secret.” Sebastian dropped the news on us, news that I had a feeling was coming but wasn’t prepared for Emilia to hear yet.
She didn’t need any more heartache. Any more pain. Writing down a Christmas wish and hoping it came true was one thing. Having her entire life altered and her fate out of her hands was quite another.
“I won’t let you go down with me.” Emilia rose, her back going ramrod straight. “Ireland needs you. This city needs you all.” She went to the kitchen, grabbed her mobile, then came back into the room.
“What are you doing?” I stood, nerves tightening my vocal cords as she brought the mobile to her ear.
She ignored me. Probably afraid I’d challenge her decision.
“Moreau, it’s me. Emilia,” she said into the mobile a moment later. “I will resign as League leader of Italy. I will not put up a fight.” She was quiet, and I had to assume Moreau was speaking.
My pulse was racing as I studied her, her gaze focused on the floor. I glanced at Sebastian, but he was unreadable.
“I won’t have your nephew ripping The League apart over me. I know the decision will be split. There will not be the votes needed to kick Sean and me out,” Emilia went on. “And this will cause problems, problems I don’t want for The League. Let me help you take down The Alliance as promised, and then you have my word I will quit. Regardless of your decision, though, Sean and his family, as well as Sebastian, stay on as League leaders after The Alliance has been taken down if they so choose.”
I took a quick step toward her, but she lifted a hand in protest. No, I couldn’t possibly let her do this. The League was her life. It was never mine. I only wanted her. Her safety. My family’s safety. Not this. She might resent me for it, and I could never live with that.
“We both quit,” I said, a firm grit to my voice. This was not happening. She’d already broken her promise to her father, although after his lie about the identity of her mother, I wasn’t sure that promise still held any weight. But I couldn’t have her throw away everything she’d worked for, not for me.
Emilia looked away, not repeating my words to Moreau. “This is the only way, Moreau, and you know that. You don’t want to go to war with me.” Her voice was steady as she maintained her resolve. Not an ounce of regret in her voice as she spoke, but I could see it in the way she refused to meet my eyes. “I have a plan, one that I believe will finally end The Alliance once and for all. A different plan than originally discussed, but if you cared for my father, you will trust me. Let me do this. And then you can elect someone of your choice to take over Italy, and you’ll have my support, which you know you’ll need.”
Damn, this woman was strong. Tough. But why was she giving up without a fight? We could get the rule changed. Fight for her position.
. . . And what was that about a new plan?
“Yes, okay.” Emilia handed the mobile to Sebastian. “He wants a word with you.”
Sebastian hesitantly took the mobile. “Alright.” He was quiet as Moreau spoke. “Consider it done.” He ended the call and handed Emilia her mobile back. “Why’d you do that?” he scolded, the same question on my mind.
“I can no longer lead Italy, knowing what I do now about my mother, about my half brother. I’m a Castellanos by blood. I-I cannot possibly stay on. It wouldn’t be right.” She set her mobile on the coffee table, and her eyes went to the window. We never did get around to putting up a tree in my flat together like I’d wanted to do, and right now, this room was in desperate need of holiday cheer.
“Emilia, are you sure? No one has to know about your mother,” Sebastian spoke up, catching my eyes and lifting his chin, silently urging me to talk some sense into her.
“But I’ll know,” she whispered without turning. “And that’s a secret I refuse to carry.”
“Emilia,” I said softly, approaching her as if she were an injured animal.
“
What’d Moreau want from you?” she asked Sebastian instead.
I stood behind her, wanting to touch her, to do something, but she was slipping into her suit of armor, preparing herself for a battle on all fronts.
“He asked me for a favor,” Sebastian started in a deep voice. “To let you be the one to finally end things.” His words had me looking back at him in shock. “He wants Emilia to be the one to kill Luca Moreau.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emilia
Monte Carlo, Monaco (Five Days Later)
“Close your eyes,” Sean commanded.
“No.” I tipped my chin in defiance. “When I turn thirty-one, I want to look at you as you lean in to kiss me. I want to see the man who stepped in to be my prince that night ten years ago here tonight, doing it again.”
Sean’s brilliant blue eyes studied me for a moment before diverting to his watch. “Ten seconds.”
All I’d wanted for my birthday was to be alone with him in our hotel room. To make love the night before the New Year’s Eve event when our carefully crafted plan went into effect. To forget my father’s lies and the fact I was leaving The League, the only real life I’d ever known.
“Happy birthday.” His husky voice had my body tightening with need as he dipped in and slanted his mouth over mine, gingerly touching my lips. Soft and sweet. No tongue. The same way I now remembered he’d done in Vegas for our first kiss.
Kneeling on our hotel bed, I clutched his biceps and offered the line I said to him a decade ago. “Do it again but put your tongue in my mouth and taste me this time.”
“I’ll need a name for that, love.” He nipped my lip, pulling it between his teeth, and I groaned in anticipation of what I knew was to come.
I was wearing the beautiful lion pendant he’d given me on Christmas Eve and nothing else. He’d refused to let me give him anything other than myself after our disastrous Christmas. But I had the perfect gift and was just waiting for us both to come out of this mess alive.
The Final Hour (Dublin Nights Book 5) Page 28