Dishonorable

by Natasha Knight

  “Guardia Winery has been a profitable company for a very long time. In recent years, sales have been down, but that was turning around.”

  “What do you mean? Was the winery in trouble?” I asked.

  “No, not in trouble, but revenues have been steadily declining over the last few years. That’s why I hired the new manager. He has modern ideas.”

  “But—”

  He held up a hand. “And with those modern ideas came the new security system he’d insisted we install.” Grandfather opened the folder and drew out a stack of papers along with a smaller envelope.

  “What is this?” Raphael asked.

  “I have a new contract, Raphael.”

  “What?” I asked, glancing at Raphael, then back at my grandfather.

  “Once the insurance pays out, there is no need to wait until Sofia is twenty-one to collect the funds. As manager of the trust, it will be up to me to pay it out to her, or in this case, to you, sooner.”

  “But you said the payout is tied up with the investigation,” I said, realizing where this was going.

  “It won’t be forever,” Grandfather said, sliding the paperwork toward Raphael. “A payout. A healthy one.”

  I glanced at the paperwork, blinked twice at the number written there.

  “It’s potentially more than the shares would have been worth, considering the winery’s decline,” Grandfather said.

  Raphael skimmed the first page, then the second and third before setting it aside and waiting for my grandfather to continue.

  “Annul the marriage, and the money is yours as soon as the insurance situation is sorted out.”

  “What?” I asked, my heart dropping into my belly. I reached a shaking hand under the table to touch Raphael’s, which was remarkably, unsettlingly, steady. He didn’t pull away but took my hand in his.

  “You want to buy her back?” Raphael asked, not once looking at me.

  “Don’t be crass.”

  “Crass? Being crass is at about the very bottom of my list of things I give a shit about right now, old man. What’s in the envelope?”

  He pointed to the one my grandfather still held.

  “A memory card.”

  “And what’s on that memory card?”

  “Evidence that it was Moriarty’s men who set the fire.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “The front gates had cameras installed. His men didn’t realize it. I don’t think Moriarty knew, since the security system was so new. Footage from the house would have been destroyed, but I have them coming and going at the time the fire started.”

  “Why haven’t you given it to the police?” I asked.

  Raphael sat back in his seat, studying my grandfather.

  “Moriarty is very well connected in Italy,” Grandfather said.

  “But he’s not above the law.”

  “I’m afraid he just might be.”

  “But you have proof!”

  “And I’m going to use it to buy your freedom, Sofia.” He turned to Raphael. “Sign the contract, and you’ll have the memory card. The man doesn’t scare easily, but I have a feeling you’ll be able to convince him to wipe out your father’s debt and save your property.”

  I turned to Raphael. This was what he needed. This would free him. This would give him exactly what he said he wanted at the church. To have this, to have the guarantee that Moriarty couldn’t hurt him or his family anymore.

  Raphael shifted his gaze from my grandfather to me, but his eyes revealed nothing. My hand rested in his. His thumb drew circles in my palm.

  The longer he took, the heavier the silence grew, the more tears welled in my eyes.

  This was it.

  Raphael and I were finished.

  My grandfather cleared his throat and rose from his seat. “Five minutes, or the offer expires, and you can take your chances on the payout.” He buttoned his jacket. “I’ll be outside.”

  We didn’t watch him go, and we didn’t speak for an eternity after the door closed.

  Raphael stood and went to one of the two windows. “I thought you were dead,” he said, his back to me.

  “What?” I started, swallowing the lump in my throat.

  He faced me but remained where he was. “I have this nightmare—I’ve had it for six years now—where I keep seeing the fire at the house, keep running inside to save my mother, and keep finding her too late.”

  A weight heavy as a pile of bricks settled in the room with us.

  “Well, it changed over the last few weeks.”

  He ran both hands through his hair, then tucked them into his pockets and gave me a strange sort of smile.

  “It wasn’t my mother I kept finding anymore.”

  He paced to the other window, then seemed to force himself to look at me.

  “It became you, Sofia. It was your body I’d find minutes too late.”

  Warm tears spilled from my eyes, and I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came, not for what seemed like a very long time. And when it did come, I sounded strange, not like myself.

  “Raphael, it’s a dream. A nightmare. It’s not real.”

  “The fire was real. You almost died.”

  It felt like I was hearing his words one at a time, slow to process their meaning. Not wanting to.

  “I meant what I said at the church. That I’d let you go. I thought that was the right thing to do.” He stopped, took a deep breath in. “I still do.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he held up his hand to stop me.

  “But you need to know something first. I lied to you, Sofia. I promised you truth, and I lied to you.”

  “Raphael—”

  “At the church. What you said—when you told me you loved me—it caught me off guard. I didn’t realize...”

  He drew something out of his pocket. It was my ring, the one I’d left in the bathroom.

  “This is ridiculous, isn’t it? Fucking ring of thorns.”

  I had no words.

  “But they fit. Being married to me, Sofia, you will always have the thorns, only there is no rose.”

  I stood, but my knees buckled, and I fell back into my chair, choking on a sob that came from somewhere deep inside me.

  I knew what he was doing. And I was right. This was good-bye. He would sign that contract, but he wouldn’t be selling back my freedom. He’d be buying it from my grandfather.

  And this time, it was so much harder than at the church. This time, it would destroy me. Because telling me he didn’t love me, as much as that had hurt, this was worse.

  He slipped the ring on his thumb and came to me.

  “I love you, Sofia, and almost losing you—” He shook his head, rubbed the scruffy two-days growth on his chin. “I’m fucked up and angry, and I can’t keep you.”

  “No.”

  He knelt before me and took my face in his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs.

  “No matter how much I want to, I can’t keep you. Your grandfather, he’s got one thing wrong about Moriarty. He won’t stop. He won’t care about this piece of evidence. His hate for me, it puts you in too much danger. The other night was evidence of that. No matter what, we would always be looking over our shoulders.”

  “No. Not with the evidence.”

  “Even if it weren’t for him, Sofia, I should never have brought you here. I should never have started this. Punishing you to punish your grandfather? Look what came of that.”

  “Don’t I get a say in this?”

  He rose to stand, bringing me with him, and with my face in his hands, he kissed me. It was a rough kiss. A final one.

  “I love you, Sofia.”

  His gaze bore into mine as if he would memorize every detail of my face.

  “I love you too much to do this to you.”

  Before I could even respond, before I’d even processed his words, he pushed me aside and picked up the pen lying on the table and signed his name to the contract. I watched, stupefied, as he scrawled hi
s signature on the sheet, then set the pen down and placed my ring beside it.

  With one more look at me, he reached for the envelope containing the memory card, tucked it into his pocket, turned, and walked out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sofia

  After Raphael left the office, I stood in the room, staring after him. Staring at the space where he’d just been before falling back into my chair, my legs unable to support me.

  I wasn’t sure what would be easier, thinking he didn’t love me or knowing the truth. Although I guess I knew there was no easy. This would hurt. It would hurt for a very long time.

  My grandfather and the attorneys walked back into the room. No one seemed to take notice of me. Grandfather set the ring and pen aside and checked the signature on the contract.

  “It’s done,” he said, handing it to one of the men who slipped it into his briefcase then clicked it closed. No one sat back down. “Gentlemen, thank you. I’ll be in touch.”

  They were shaking hands, almost at the door, when I spoke. “Why did you want the marriage consummated?”

  They all stopped. Someone cleared their throat. My grandfather turned to me, a coldness in his eyes that chilled me, then shifted his attention back to them.

  “Forward official copies electronically and in hard copy.”

  The men left. Grandfather closed the door behind them and faced me but remained where he was.

  “What an inappropriate question to ask in front of our attorneys.”

  “What an inappropriate request to make.”

  He walked over to me. “I did this for you.”

  “You also did this to me.”

  “I told you, I was making amends.”

  “Tell me why you wanted it consummated?”

  He studied me. “Because I didn’t think he’d go through with it. Because I thought when faced with an unwilling virgin bride—”

  I flinched at the words.

  “His morality would stop him. End this. Hell, maybe I thought you’d cry rape.”

  My mouth fell open. He was willing to go that far? No. God, no.

  He stepped closer and cocked his head to one side, any weakness I’d thought I’d seen when we’d first come into the room vanished.

  “But you weren’t unwilling, were you, Sofia? You whored yourself out to that man. Just like your mother did to your father.”

  I breathed in tight breaths and, collecting every ounce of courage, I rose to stand. “Don’t you dare call her or me a whore, old man.”

  He did something then that he’d never done before that moment. For all his coldness, for all his distance, he’d never raised a finger to us. Not until today.

  The sound of him slapping my face reverberated off the walls, snapped my head to the side, and sent me stumbling backward.

  I touched my cheek. It throbbed, growing hotter under my hand.

  “Don’t you ever speak to me like that again, understand?”

  The door opened just then, and one of the attorneys returned.

  “Sorry, I forgot—” He stopped short. “Excuse me.”

  He made to walk back out, but before he could, I spoke.

  “You’re a vile old man,” I said to my grandfather. “You’re a selfish, greedy old man. You never forgave my mother for falling in love with a man you didn’t approve of when you never should have had any say at all. You used me like a pawn. You treated me no differently than your enemy. You’ve been stealing from my sister and me all our lives. It’s about time this ends.”

  I turned to the attorney.

  “I want guardianship of my sister. Draw up whatever paperwork I need—”

  “And you’ll support her how? With what money?” my grandfather asked. “The state will never allow it.”

  “If you stand against me, I’ll go to the authorities with what I know. You’ll be investigated. You’ll be arrested. You will be imprisoned.”

  For the first time in all the time I’d known him, my grandfather didn’t speak. He stood there, color draining from his face just a little.

  “Walk away, and you can keep what you’ve stolen,” I added.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he started, opening his mouth to continue before I stopped him.

  “Are you willing to take that chance?” I asked.

  My grandfather’s cell phone rang just then. I imagined the relief he must have felt, the gratitude for the distraction. He stepped away, taking it out of his pocket. When he did, I scooped up the ring Raphael had left on the table, dropped it into my purse, and walked out.

  I didn’t know where I was going. Didn’t know if my credit card even worked anymore, didn’t have any clothes. Luckily, I had my passport. And I needed to get out of there. Get out of that stifling room, that building, before the walls crushed me. I walked out the front doors into the heat and noise of the busy city and lost myself in the crowd, somehow managing not to fall down, not to break into tears as I walked farther and farther away, not knowing where I would go, needing to disappear.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Raphael

  It had taken all I had to turn my back on Sofia and walk out of that office. I knocked someone’s shoulder on my way out but didn’t look back, didn’t apologize, couldn’t stop. I went out the door and into the hallway and flew down the stairs and out the front doors where I stopped, gasping for breath, my hands on my knees, wanting to vomit.

  Lying to Sofia on the chapel floor, that had wounded me. But this? Today? Leaving her like that, signing that damned contract and walking out on her, it finished me. I’d promised her truth, and I’d kept my promise, finally. And it destroyed me.

  I straightened, wiping sweat off my forehead.

  I didn’t remember walking through the city to the parking garage. Didn’t remember driving home. As soon as I stepped out of the car, though, Charlie came running to me. I stopped and looked down at him. Watched him wait for the passenger side door to open, for Sofia to step out. He barked several times, ran back to me, tail wagging, then returned to sit by her car door to wait.

  “She’s not there,” I told him.

  Charlie turned to me, tilting his head to one side as if he didn’t understand, then faced the car door again, barked once more, waiting.

  “She’s not coming back.”

  I went into the house and to my study. On the way, I told Nicola to pack Sofia’s suitcases. I’d send them to her later.

  After reviewing the security footage on the memory card, I made several copies, put one in a safety-deposit box, sent one to the seminary for Damon, and took one personally to deliver to Moriarty. This time, though, we’d meet in a public place. I chose the restaurant and made sure I arrived early.

  Choosing a booth in the back, I ordered my dinner and waited.

  When he finally arrived, I didn’t rise to greet him but wiped my mouth and gestured for him to take a seat.

  “All healed up, Raphael?”

  Although he strove for a casual vibe, his eyes darted around the room. This wasn’t one of his regular restaurants, and Moriarty, for all the friends he had in high places, also had enemies.

  “All healed up. Thanks for asking.”

  A waitress came by, and he ordered a glass of water.

  “That’s not much fun, is it? Water? Order something else. My treat.” I turned to the waitress. “A double whiskey.” The waitress nodded and left. “You’re going to need it.”

  “My men are right outside. If you need another beating to learn respect—”

  “Beatings never worked for me, Moriarty. Didn’t my father ever mention how hard he tried? You know where he ended up.”

  His face didn’t change, and when the waitress delivered his drink, he sipped it.

  “What’s this about?”

  “Fire at the Guardia property,” I said.

  “Shame about that.”

  “Huge loss.” I stared at him. “When did you find out the old man was my buyer?”


  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, taking another sip.

  “I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway.” I ate the last potato on my plate and washed it down with some wine. “Did you know about the new security system they had installed? Top-notch new manager, apparently.”

  Moriarty shifted in his seat.

  “Turns out there were a couple of cameras at the front gates of the property.” I ate another bite of my steak, set my knife and fork across my plate and, after wiping my mouth, threw my napkin down on top of it.

  “Get to the point, Raphael.”

  “Happy to,” I said, raising my hand for the check. I reached into my pocket to take out the envelope containing photographs of the images from the security footage. “Interesting how sophisticated these things are these days. Amazing, actually.”

  Moriarty glanced around the restaurant but didn’t touch the envelope. The waitress reappeared with my check, and I handed her some bills.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “A car coming and leaving the night of the fire. Lights out. A driver and two passengers. Your business logo on the side window—I always did think it was a pretentious one—sticking out like a sore fucking thumb. License plates that confirm the vehicle belongs to you.”

  He grabbed the envelope, peeked inside, and quickly tucked it into his pocket.

  “Where did you get these?”

  “Marcus Guardia doesn’t play nice, Moriarty. He will cut off his own nose to spite his face.” I replaced my smile with something much more sinister. “This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to stay far, far away from me, from my family, from Sofia and Lina Guardia. You’ll stay away from anything having to do with me, my family, Sofia, or Lina. Hell, from anything that you might even think may be remotely associated with me, my family, or the Guardia sisters. If you don’t, a copy of that memory card as well as the photos you have in your pocket will be delivered to every news outlet throughout Italy, along with every single prosecutor, every judge… Do I need to go on?”

  He didn’t reply.