Monster A Dark Arranged Marriage Romance - Vanessa Waltz Page 0,34

stretched between us.

I scrambled to piece together my wild thoughts. “Why would I? I don’t know anything about you or what you’ve saved me from.”

“Because you are completely wrapped up in all this pointless navel-gazing.” He tossed the journal on the floor. “How can you be so selfish?”

His rudeness glided over my head.

“How can you be in such denial and not realize that’s exactly what you need?”

Tony’s searing gaze flicked away, and back again. “You’re turning a blind eye to what’s happening in your backyard. Honestly, I don’t know how you live with yourself.”

That struck me like a slap to my face.

What are you talking about?

“I thought I could save you,” he continued, his eyes alight with passion. “You were the youngest. You had the most to lose, but it turns out you’re just like the rest of them!”

That shot my heart with adrenaline.

“Save me from what?”

“You know what’s insane?” he thundered, blowing past my question. “Everything I’ve done to you is horrible, but you find the good in it. Why?”

“I-I have to. It’s how I survive.”

He gave me a pained look. “You’ve had a fucked up life, Evie. I feel sorry for you.”

My cheeks burned so fiercely it hurt.

That’s it. I can’t talk to this man anymore.

I moved from his lap, but Tony held my arms. “Growing up there must’ve been hell.”

I blinked, confused.

I’d had a decent twenty-two years. A mother who loved me. A father who strolled into school and threatened the principal when I told him one of the boys bullied me. No, my childhood was not perfect, but I doubted Tony’s was either.

Startled, I met his soft gaze. “I didn’t want for anything in the MC. That’s probably hard for you to accept, but it’s the truth.”

“Only because you don’t know any better.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” I burst, tired of his crap. “Is this because I grew up poor?”

“No, Evie.”

“Then what is it? What makes us so terrible?” I watched him, waiting for him to spit it out. “The MC does nothing worse than the mob. Your family is involved in the same shit—loansharking, drugs, construction scams. You’re a goddamned hypocrite for judging us.”

“You have no idea what’s going on.” He glanced at the journal and rubbed his temples. “If you’re always looking at the sun, you’ll never see the shadows.”

Twelve

Evie

I’m grateful my husband makes life interesting.

Tony had a 747’s worth of baggage.

While we were apart, I combed the internet. Tabloids painted Tony as a rich boy with a lavish upbringing. His late father was a mafia don, but his mother was a high-society snob, an Italian supermodel who’d posed for Vogue. He had everything going for him—an Ivy League education, trust funds, real estate properties, a trail of brokenhearted women, and all the money he could ever want.

He could’ve been anything.

He chose to be a thug.

Why?

It bewildered me. Nothing in my search pointed to a specific reason, except the year-long hunt for Tony Costa. He’d gone missing, but apparently, he’d been at a rehabilitation center in Switzerland. Photos showed him leaving the facility.

Did something happen to him there?

Dwelling on my husband’s strange behavior wouldn’t finish my jewelry collection, but I couldn’t bring myself to ignore his suffering. I did, however, rip out all the cameras. If he wanted to know how I was doing, he’d have to talk to me. It was the only way we’d get anywhere.

So I went on with my life. I ignored the persistent throb in my chest and visited the club whenever the mood struck me.

Dad and I sped through the gate on his bike. Sunshine coated the property in golden warmth. The forget-me-not blue sky reminded me that beauty was everywhere. I waved at Hugh, a young prospect, smiling as he shouted a greeting. People relaxed on lawn chairs, drinking beer. Charcoal and savory scents saturated the air. Probably Patrick. The fifty-year-old grill master never spared an occasion to barbecue. Every summer, he took part in contests that filled his living room with ribbons and trophies.

I slid off the Harley as Dad stopped. He kept the engine running, one foot braced on the ground.

“I’ll be back later. Won’t be long.” Dad zipped up his leather cut. “There’s potato salad in the fridge. Take it to Pat. He’ll trade you for a couple ribs.”

“All right.”

He zoomed off, the bike kicking up a plume of dust.

Emptiness gnawed at my stomach, but my jagged thoughts sawed through my appetite. I couldn’t swallow the lump in my throat, let alone