The Italian's Final Redemption - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,48
and eating that to give herself a moment or two to think, even though her appetite had vanished.
No, she couldn’t lie to him. He valued her honesty, which meant she’d have to tell him the truth, face his judgment. Accept her own guilt, because she couldn’t hide from it any longer.
Lucy gathered her courage and met his gaze head-on. ‘I ran because of a promise I made to my mother. She wanted me to survive, get free any way I could, but it took me a long time to be brave enough to do it. I killed her, you see. The story was that she tripped and fell against a window, sliced her arm, and bled to death. But that’s not what happened.’ Her jaw ached, but she forced herself to go on. ‘Dad had a lot of secret meetings and I was curious about them. I’d always try and eavesdrop, pretend I was a spy, stupid things like that. I knew I wasn’t supposed to. Mum warned me not to, that Dad would get very angry if he caught me, and there would be consequences. But... I couldn’t help myself.’
She took a breath, her hands now in her lap, her fingers twisting. ‘He did catch me that day. And Mum was right, he was furious. He was going to hit me, but she put herself between him and me, and caught the blow instead. It knocked her into a window, which broke, cutting a major artery.’ She felt very cold all of a sudden, as if she’d been plunged head first into a pool of snow melt. ‘Dad did nothing. He just walked out, leaving me to try and help her. There was so much blood...and I couldn’t.’ Lucy’s throat closed up. ‘She made me promise to escape, to have a life away from him. To be happy. And then...she died.’
There was no expression at all on Vincenzo’s face, but a fierce light burned in his midnight eyes. ‘Lucy,’ he said softly.
‘And you’re right,’ she went on, because she had to say it now. ‘I am a criminal. I’m guilty of all those crimes I committed for my dad. But mainly I’m guilty of being the reason for her death. If I’d only listened to her, if I hadn’t been so curious, so s-stupid, if I’d just done what I was told, Dad wouldn’t have found me. He wouldn’t have got so angry. And he wouldn’t have tried to hit me, and then Mum wouldn’t have died. I killed her, Vincenzo. It was my fault.’
Of course it is. And you deserve everything that’s coming to you.
Fear came bubbling up at the insidious voice inside her head, a black wave of it, and she had to turn away, unable to face Vincenzo’s dark gaze and the judgment that would no doubt be there, sticking like a splinter in her heart.
She didn’t know when his opinion of her had begun to matter so much, but it did, and she couldn’t bear it. She didn’t want the way he looked at her or treated her, with so much gentleness and kindness, to change, yet it would, and she couldn’t avoid that.
She deserved his condemnation, not soft candles, and delicious food, and a warm bath.
Face it like your mother faced her death, coward.
Lucy swallowed and lifted her head, determined now, forcing herself to look into his eyes. Because her mother hadn’t hesitated to put herself in physical danger to protect her, and so she couldn’t hesitate now.
‘I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Vincenzo,’ she said, her voice hoarse. ‘But I don’t deserve it. Not any of it.’
She’d prepared herself to meet his judgment—that much was clear from the look on her face. And, given how pale she’d gone, it was obvious that she was expecting that judgment not to be in her favour.
He hadn’t meant to have this discussion with her, not here, not now. But that was his own fault. He’d been the one to ask her why she’d escaped when she had. And, of course, she’d answered him with her customary honesty.
And he wasn’t sure what horrified him more: that she blamed herself for her mother’s death or that she expected him to blame her as well.
You told her she was guilty, that she was a criminal.
That was true, he had. But how could he think she was either? After that?
Her little chin was lifted, her eyes shadowed behind the lenses of her glasses, the green lost in the darkness.