The Price (House of Sin #5) - Elisabeth Naughton Page 0,71

the power to calm me and make me weak, intent on fixing that. Fixing all of it.

“Climb in that bath and relax while I make dinner, angioletto. Once we’ve both eaten, things won’t seem so overwhelming.”

She released me with a halfhearted smile and an “Okay.”

But as I left the bathroom, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was pulling away from me. Something I deserved after all the shit I’d put her through.

I wouldn’t let that happen. I knew exactly how to prevent it. And how to prove to her I was still the man she remembered.

Natalie barely ate.

Wrapped in the plush white bathrobe I’d left for her on the bed, she mostly pushed her pasta around on her plate. She didn’t even drink her wine, something that was unlike her. The woman liked a good glass of wine as much as I did.

Sensing she wasn’t in the mood to talk, I finally took pity on her and sent her to bed, telling her I’d clean up. She’d argued for all of two seconds before giving in and disappearing up the stairs. Another thing that was completely out of character for my spunky brunette.

I took my time cleaning up the kitchen. Not wanting to wake her, I stayed downstairs when I was done, poured myself a glass of whisky, and moved into the living room where I flipped on the news.

It had been weeks since I’d paid attention to what was going on in the world. I listened for anything related to Italy and my House, but the only thing of remote interest was a segment about the president of Italy attending a fundraiser thrown by a politician I knew was in deep with our House. Odds were good my father had been there, but I flipped off the TV before it panned to video of the party, not wanting to see his face.

For a minute, I sat in the dark with the glass against my thigh and just let the silence surround me. I’d never particularly liked the quiet. It was when the past crept in, reminding me of all the things I could never escape. But tonight, I didn’t run from those memories. I let each one wash over me, and I separated the events from the emotions they generated, just as Abigail had taught me to do.

Without those emotions, without the guilt and the shame and even the fear, I could see better. I could remember more clearly. And I could recognize the past for what it was—done and behind me.

I couldn’t change it. But I couldn’t deny it either. Every single thing I’d done and seen and been had shaped me into the man I was now. Into the man I’d been denying these last few weeks. Into the man Natalie didn’t see as a monster, but as a hero.

I almost laughed at that thought. I’d never consider myself a hero, but I did believe now that she was right in a way. I wasn’t my father. I wasn’t like the men in my House. I’d never be holy in any sense of the word, but that didn’t mean I was evil. I was just human. I was me. I made mistakes.

For years, I’d wished I could change the past, but now... Now I knew I wouldn’t, even if I could. Because every one of those mistakes I’d made along the way had led me to Natalie.

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do about my House. I wasn’t convinced I was destined for something important as Marco wanted me to believe. The only thing I knew for certain was that being with Natalie, marrying her—loving her—was the one thing in this life I was absolutely meant to do. And I wasn’t about to fuck it up this time. I was going to make it right.

She was sound asleep when I stepped in the room, lying on her side, facing the small sitting area, her cheek on the pillow, hands tucked up by her angelic face. I was quiet as I moved around, not wanting to wake her. The room was a little cold, so I lit a fire in the old stone fireplace and tugged the drapes closed to keep out the chill. And then, still not tired, I tugged off my shirt and sat in the high-back chair across from her and just watched her sleep.

I watched the way her chest rose and fell under the ribbed tank she was wearing and the