Dishonorable

by Natasha Knight

  Because right now, I was a liar on top of everything else.

  “I don’t love you,” I repeated.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  She sat back on her heels, her fingers closing around the clothes still strewn on the chapel floor.

  “Well, believe it. I enjoyed taking what I took. I liked playing with you—for a time.” I shoved her away with my knee, got up, and walked a few steps to where the pieces of the broken crucifix lay on the floor. Bending, I picked them up, holding the image of Christ in my hand.

  “Raphael.”

  I turned to find her on her feet, buttoning her shorts up.

  “You don’t mean it. I know you,” she said.

  I laughed this strange, ugly sound. “You keep saying that. You really think you can ever know someone? Know what’s in their head?”

  “I don’t care what’s in your head. That’s the point. I know what’s in your stupid heart.” Her face was all scrunched up, and her hands fisted at her sides. “You promised me truth, Raphael.”

  “And I’m giving it to you.” I set the cross on the pew I’d abandoned and touched my own ring of thorns. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll call the attorney and set things in motion for the annulment.” I dragged the ring off my finger, watching blood streak down it as I did so, wanting the pain, needing it. Once it was off, I walked over to the altar and set it on the corner.

  “Raphael, please…”

  Her eyes were watery as she looked at the bloodied iron band.

  “You don’t want—”

  “I want this done as soon as possible,” I said, my voice hard.

  She looked at me, flinching, almost startled.

  “I want you out as soon as possible. I’ll make arrangements.” I walked to the door. “Let’s go.”

  “No.”

  She stayed where she was. She reached out to touch the ring, then pulled her arm back, hugging herself.

  I rolled my eyes and sighed as if irritated, even though it broke me a little to do it, to see her like this. To know I was the cause of her pain. Again.

  But it was better this way. Better for her. Safer for her.

  Maybe when this mess was finished…

  No.

  No maybes.

  No future.

  This was finished. It had to be, for her sake.

  “Listen, I’ve got somewhere to be. You go back home. Eat dinner. Go to bed like a good little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl.”

  “Well, you are, actually. And I’m a little tired of the virgin girl act, honestly.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  No. I didn’t. But she had to think I did.

  “It was fun for a while. But it’s time for me to move on. To put the past behind me. What was it you said? If I let the past go, maybe it will let me go? I think you were right.” I looked around, gesturing big with my hands. “All this is the past. You’re the past. I’m done with it. I want to live my life, and the only way I can do that is to walk away. Let it go, so it lets me go.”

  She just stared at me.

  “Let’s get out of here, Sofia.”

  “You want this? You want to walk away?”

  “Yes.” Something in my chest twisted. “And if you really do believe you love me, you’ll do as I say and let me go.” Fuck. I was a first-class asshole. I didn’t deserve to lick the ground she walked on, but I needed to drive the nail into the coffin. “I’m hungry. Let’s go.”

  She shook her head and sat down. “Go.”

  “You can’t find your way back.”

  “I can find my own way. I don’t need you.”

  I watched the back of her head, saw her draw her knees up on the pew and hug herself.

  “Come on.”

  “Go, Raphael.”

  “Sofia—”

  “Just go! Pull the fucking Band-Aid off, right? Just go.”

  “Fine. Suit yourself.”

  I walked out of the chapel and toward the house, hating to leave her there alone, knowing I had to. Because if she hated me, this would be easier.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sofia

  I don’t know how long I sat in the chapel like that, but by the time I got back to the house, a single light was left on over the stove and Raphael’s car was gone. Charlie was the only one waiting for me. The moment I opened the door, he nudged his little nose around the corner, and I bent to pick him up and hug him to me.

  What had happened in the last three weeks? Had it been in those weeks that Raphael had come to the realization he didn’t want this? Didn’t want me? Or was this the truth all along? Was I just blind?

  I really thought he’d cared about me.

  No, more than that.

  I thought he loved me.

  A sudden chill made me shudder, and I carried Charlie up to my bedroom.

  When Raphael had stood like he had, with me kneeling at his feet, when he’d looked at me, I’d seen something so strange in his eyes. So at odds with what he was saying. At least for one single and very fleeting moment.

  Once inside my room, I set Charlie down. He circled my legs twice then looked up at me with his big puppy-dog eyes. I bent to pet him, and he took a finger in his mouth and gently tried to tug me toward the bed.

  “You go ahead, sweetie. I can’t sleep yet.”

  He whined, and I swear he knew I was hurting, but when I straightened, he went to the bed and hopped up on his own. He was growing.

  I walked into the bathroom and fished Raphael’s wedding ring out of my pocket. Studying it, I touched my thumb to the sharp thorns along the inside of the band. I turned on the water and rinsed it, cleaning off the blood before setting it on the edge of the sink. I then slipped mine off my finger and put it down beside his.

  Gripping the edge of the sink, I doubled over, feeling like I would vomit, feeling like something deep inside my belly needed to be expelled. Thrown up. But there was nothing. Nothing but tears, thick and heavy. Although I knew no one could hear me, I covered my mouth against my sobs and wept for what seemed like an eternity until finally, I was dried out, nothing left inside me.

  He didn’t love me.

  He didn’t want me.

  He wanted me to believe this whole thing had been a game to him, but I couldn’t. Not when I remembered his face down in the cellar, not when I’d felt his hand on my cheek as he told me he didn’t love me. That he was tired of me. What had he said? Tired of his virgin girl?

  A sudden surge of energy ripped through me and I slapped at the rings, sending them flying to opposite corners. I turned on the water and washed my face before meeting my reflection, my eyes red and puffy.

  “All this is the past. You’re the past.”

  My heart ached at the memory of his words. I was angry and humiliated, and I just felt so sad. For him. For me. Because in a way, he was right. And I had been right. He had to let the past go for it to let him go. Maybe he had no choice. But how did I come out as collateral damage? I’d thought it would be different. I’d thought this thing that had started out so ugly had turned into something beautiful. A lasting love.

  I gripped the hair on either side of my head and pulled.

  I needed to go. To get out of here. I couldn’t see him again. I couldn’t be in the same house. It was just too painful. I found my phone, and although it was late, I dialed a local taxi service and arranged for someone to pick me up within half an hour. My phone was low on battery, so I plugged it into the charger and began to pack. I’d just take a duffel bag of essentials. My priority right now was getting out of there.

  Twenty minutes later, I called Charlie, who raised his head and came when I opened the door. I checked my purse for the key my grandfather had given me. It was right where I’d left it, in the little zipper on the side. As quietly as I could, I went down the stairs. Although Raphael’s car was gone, I wasn’t sure if Eric was somewhere on site or if he’d come back. But I didn’t run into anyone as I made my way blindly
through the living room, into the kitchen and out the door, where I walked down the mile-long gravel path toward the front entrance of the property.

  When I got there, the taxi was waiting. I opened the back door, and Charlie jumped in ahead of me. After dragging my duffel in behind me, I settled Charlie on my lap and told the driver where I was going. Guardia Winery. Luckily, he knew exactly where it was, because I didn’t remember, and within a few minutes, we were out of sight of Raphael’s house.

  It was Saturday night. No one would be working tomorrow, so I’d have the day to plan what I wanted to do and get things sorted out for myself. I would spend the night in my mother’s old bedroom with her ghost for company. We were twenty minutes down the road when I realized I hadn’t grabbed my phone off the charger. In my rush, I’d forgotten it.

  I sat back in the seat. No way was I going back for it. I wouldn’t get lucky not getting caught leaving twice. Although it’s wasn’t like Raphael wanted me to stay. Hell, he’d probably be pleased I was making this so easy for him. I shook my head, banishing all thoughts of him.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Raphael

  It was close to midnight by the time I got home. My attorney had worked overtime, getting the paperwork for the sale of the house in order. I’d been ready to sign, but we’d hit a snag. A document the buyer had to provide, and he hadn’t. I guessed the holdup was the fact that it was the weekend, and Italians didn’t like working weekends. I’d hoped to get everything signed and finished today. The less I had to think about it, the better. And the faster I could do what I’d told Sofia I’d do—let go of the past.

  And once I’d signed, I couldn’t change my mind.

  Selling the house was my last resort. I hated to do it. Damon hated me having to do it. But there was no other way. Moriarty wasn’t fucking around. I couldn’t take a chance he’d hurt my family over this. It wasn’t worth it.

  As I walked past her room, I tried hard not to think about her at the chapel. Not to see her face when she’d knelt at my feet, looking up at me when I told her I didn’t love her. I just needed to remember I was doing it for her own good.

  When I reached my room, I heard her cell phone ring but ignored it. It was probably her sister. It’d only be early evening on the East Coast. I stripped off my clothes once in my room and had a long shower before collapsing into bed.

  My old sleeping habits had returned over the last couple of weeks. I was running on three hours a night, and I was exhausted. But part of me didn’t want to sleep. It was the only way to keep the nightmares at bay, and the one about Sofia being behind that door—well, I just couldn’t handle that anymore.

  I don’t know if it was the phone ringing in the distance that woke me or something else, but at a quarter to three, I woke hearing it. Maybe it was because the sound was wrong, out of place. A sense of foreboding forced me out of bed. I put on a pair of briefs and went into the hallway. The phone stopped ringing just as I got there, and I almost returned to my own bed, but then it started again.

  It came from Sofia’s room. And my gut told me something was wrong.

  I didn’t bother knocking on her door. Instead, I pushed it open and switched on the light.

  “Fuck.”

  She wasn’t there, and the bed hadn’t been slept in. Charlie wasn’t around either, and he was always with her. Her clothes were still in the closet, and her two suitcases were tucked on a shelf. I didn’t know what toiletries she had but noticed no toothbrush in the bathroom. On my way back out, I saw the ring on the floor in the corner. Her ring.

  I bent to pick it up and slipped it on my little finger, then saw the ring’s twin. Mine. It was in the far corner. I left that one where it was. The phone began to ring again. I went into the bedroom to answer it. It sat on her dresser plugged into its charger. I checked the display and saw it was Lina. It’d be nine o’clock her time, but she had to know this was the middle of our night. I swiped the green bar before it went to voice mail.

  “Hello? This is Raphael.”

  “Raphael?”

  “Yes. Lina, how are you?”

  “Where’s my sister?”

  “Well, that’s a good question. Another good question is do you know what time it is?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. I just really need to talk to Sofia. I’ve been trying for the last few hours.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I don’t know.” She sounded anxious. “Where is she? Is she okay? Why are you answering her phone?”

  “Because she’s not in her room, and the phone woke me. She’s probably just downstairs.” I didn’t believe she was down there, but I unplugged the phone from the charger and walked through the house, going downstairs to check. Maybe she couldn’t sleep. Or she got hungry and went to get a snack. “I’m checking the house now, Lina. Tell me why you’re calling so late.”

  Lina hesitated, and I grew more anxious to find the living room and kitchen in darkness. When I’d arrived home, both the second car and the truck had still been parked outside, so I hadn’t thought to look in on her, figuring she didn’t want to see me. Taking the easier route myself. Where the hell was she?

  I went toward the cellar door.

  “Lina?” I asked, opening it, switching on the light when I found it dark. She’d never go down there without turning on the lights, but I walked down anyway, finding it empty. “I can’t find your sister, so you’d better tell me what’s going on.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t find her?”

  “I mean she’s not here. Why are you calling so late? Maybe the two things are related.”

  “She wouldn’t go anywhere without her cell phone.”

  “Okay.” I tried to sound calmer than I felt. I didn’t want to worry or upset Lina. “Hold on a second. I’m going to check her call log.” Pulling the phone away from my ear, I scrolled through her call history and breathed a sigh of relief to know she’d called a taxi around ten o’clock. I guess some part of me thought Moriarty or his men would have come for her. Taken her to get to me.

  Hell, maybe they had.

  “Lina, she called a taxi around ten o’clock. We had a fight. She’s probably fine, but I need to figure out where she is. I’m going to need to hang up to do that.”

  “Will you call me right back?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks.”

  I’d almost hung up when she called my name.

  “Raphael?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you sign the papers to sell your property?”

  “What?” How in hell did she know about that?

  “Just tell me. Did you sign already?”

  “No. There was a holdup. A missing document.” I heard the relief in her exhale. “Lina, what the hell is going on?”

  “Don’t sign, okay? Just don’t.”

  “I need more than that, and I really need to go look for Sofia.” Silence. “Lina?”

  “I think my grandfather is the buyer.”

  It felt like a trapdoor had opened up underneath me. I stood there holding the phone to my ear, trying to make sense of what she’d just said.

  The buyer had a representative, and all the paperwork was being done over wires and faxes—as old-fashioned as the latter sounded. The buyer had been missing one legal document that was necessary for the sale to be acknowledged by Italian law. That holdup was the only reason I hadn’t signed over the property today.

  I’d tried to find information on the buyer, so had my lawyer, but everything pointed to a company in southern Germany. It hadn’t occurred to me once that would be a front. The offer had been above the value of the land. Why in hell would Marcus Guardia want to buy this house? This dead land?

  “Are you still there?” Lina asked.

  “I need to find your sister. Lina, does your grandfather know you know?”

  “No. I overheard something he said, and I snuck into his study when he went out for dinner. I just knew something wasn’t right.”


  “Thank you. I’ll deal with that later. Don’t tell him that you told me.”

  “I wasn’t going to. Raphael, I found other things too.” Her voice quivered.

  “All right. I’m going to find Sofia, and we’re going to call you together. Sit tight, okay?”

  “She’s not hurt, is she?”

  How did I answer that? “I’m sure she’s fine,” I lied, not sure of anything at all.

  We hung up, and I dialed the taxi service she’d used. They could confirm that a taxi had come to the property at half past ten and delivered a woman and her dog to Guardia Winery.

  I thanked them and hung up, quickly texted Lina, and went upstairs to get dressed and go to the winery to pick her up. Her grandfather had given her a key that day at lunch. She must have planned on staying there after our fight today.

  The winery was a little over an hour away. I drove fast over deserted, dark roads, having only the moonlight at intervals between the clouds and my headlights to navigate the winding road. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. That foreboding, it seemed more like a premonition, and images of my recurring dream kept flashing before my eyes.

  I hit the accelerator and rolled down the window, feeling nauseous. It was getting so bad, I thought I could smell it even, smell the scent of fire, of flesh burning in fire.

  Fuck. I was going crazy. It was a dream. Nothing was wrong. Just a stupid fucking dream.

  But as I took the next bend, the clouds cleared, and a plume of smoke rose over the next hill. I recognized that smell. It wasn’t the dream. It was ash. It was in the air.

  As my brain tried to process what was happening, my hands tightened around the steering wheel and I pushed the gas pedal to the limit. Not more than two miles away, a blaze rose high, the sound of fire, the roar of it still a whisper, a hint.

  “No.”

  I drove like Satan himself was chasing me and fumbled for Sofia’s cell phone on the seat beside me, the charger hanging from it like the tail of a mouse. Taking my eyes off the road for a second, I dialed 1-1-2, the smell stronger as I neared Guardia.