The Italian's Final Redemption - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,64

happiness and now you can never forget it.

The anger burned hotter, flaming high and wild, incinerating everything in its path.

She’d been right, hadn’t she? She’d been right all along. Justice would never be enough for him, not now she’d shown him what else he could have, and because he could never have it she’d doomed him.

Vincenzo shoved his chair back so hard it fell over. He rose to his feet, the rage inside him a column of fire, burning him alive. The wine glass was still in his hand, and before he’d even realised what he was doing he’d flung it to the stone floor, crystal exploding in glittering shards.

It was her fault. She’d made him feel like this. And now he’d be Tantalus for ever, desperately thirsty and unable to drink. Starving and unable to eat.

Or you could just accept that what she said was true, that you can let yourself be happy.

Rage coursed through him. How could he accept that? How could he be happy? When he’d hurt people? When he was as guilty as his mother? She was in jail at least, but he wasn’t.

You thought Lucy had served her sentence and deserved freedom. Haven’t you served yours?

He was shaking, staring unseeing at the remains of the wine glass, glittering in the last rays of twilight. Years he’d spent pursuing his crusade. Years. And still he felt the crushing burden of guilt. That hadn’t eased one bit, no matter how many people he had put away. She hadn’t lied about that, had she?

No, there had only been one thing that eased him and that was her. Being deep inside her, looking into her eyes. Feeling her arms around him, holding him. Making him feel as if he was more than his mother’s broken tool. More than a ruthless, merciless crusader, fighting to fill the gaping void inside him.

The void his mother had left when she walked away from him without a backward glance. The void left by betrayal. Left by love.

He sucked in a breath and then another as the knowledge filtered slowly through him, another truth that Lucy had given him that he’d thought was a lie.

‘You’re afraid...’

Was he? He hadn’t thought he was, but... What if that was true? What if he just hadn’t wanted to believe it? And if that was true, then just what the hell was he afraid of?

You know...

Vincenzo closed his eyes. If he didn’t have justice, if he didn’t have guilt, if he didn’t have atonement, then what did he have? Who was he?

Just his mother’s tool, her weapon. The puppet she pulled the strings with. An empty void. Unworthy of even her tainted, conditional love.

Fear curled through him, so sharp and bright he shuddered. He didn’t want to face it. He wanted to turn and go to his office, lose himself in doing something, anything so this fear didn’t choke him. The fear that he was nothing and no one. That he was unworthy, undeserving.

She loves you. She believes you deserve happiness.

What if...she was right? What if his civetta had told him the truth? Ah, but then, of course it was the truth. She’d always given him that. So maybe the question wasn’t what if she was right? Maybe the question was more what if he believed her?

Something shifted inside him, the urge to run back to his office and bury himself in his crusade. But he knew, with a sudden flash of insight, that if he did that, he’d be doing exactly what he’d been doing for years. Escaping.

Escaping pain. Escaping betrayal. Protecting himself...

Ah, Dio, that was what he’d been doing all this time, wasn’t it? Running from his fear, running like a coward for decades. Using his justice as his shield and righteousness as his sword.

But he wasn’t just or righteous. He was a man cowering in fear. Afraid of his own emotions. Afraid of pain and betrayal. Afraid of the most powerful emotion of all: love.

‘I think you love me as much as I love you.’

Vincenzo took a ragged breath, his heart raw, chewed up and spat out, scarred and full of holes, beating hard in his chest as the greatest truth of all settled down inside him. His skin was sensitised, as if the slightest breath of air would cut him to shreds.

Yes, he loved her. He’d loved her for days, for weeks. The entirety of his life had been spent waiting for her and the rest of it would be spent aching for her.