The Vatican - M.E. Clayton Page 0,15

my dad really send you over here to lecture me?” I didn’t give him time to answer. “Well, save your breath. Mattia already gave me the what for, and I was on my way over to apologize to everyone for…my lack of judgment where our safety is concerned.”

“I’m not here to lecture you about unwelcomed guests,” he replied.

Okay.

Now, I was confused.

“Then what about him?”

“Who is he?”

I rolled my eyes, dropped my defensive stance, and walked over to lean against the back of the couch. “I met him a couple of months ago at The Emerald.” I shrugged a shoulder. “He’s cool.”

Francisco arched a brow. “Cool enough to invite him over, apparently,” he remarked.

“I said I was going to apologize,” I repeated through clenched teeth.

Francisco stepped towards me, and he didn’t stop until our toes were almost touching. My body shivered and it wasn’t a good kind of shiver. Francisco was setting off violent vibes and that wasn’t a good thing. He was very much like his father in the fact that he exercised control over his emotions remarkably. If he was upset, it was probably because he’d been ordered to kill a man whose only mistake was befriending me, not knowing any better.

“Bene-”

“You’re not allowed to see him anymore, Fiore,” he said, surprising me.

“What?” I mean, I knew he wouldn’t be able to come over anymore, but to stop seeing him altogether? “Why?”

Francisco’s eyes roamed my face until they traveled lower in a perusal of my entire body. This time the shiver was of a different variety, and I could feel my heart starting to beat in a way I wasn’t sure my chest could contain.

It felt sexual.

When his eyes made their way back up to mine, he said, “Because you’re mine, Fiore.”

My ears rushed with blood and my head felt cloudy with words I was sure I misunderstood. “Excuse me?” I managed to get out, but my voice was low, raspy, and unsure.

Francisco reached out and twirled a strand of my brown hair around his finger. His eyes never leaving mine. “You’re mine, Fiore,” he repeated. “You’ve always been mine.”

Panic started to grip me. My ears heard him just fine, but my mind couldn’t register what he meant. “What does that mean, Benetti?” He dropped the strand and took a step back. But, even then, his presence still felt imposing. He was almost a foot taller than I was, and twice as wide. He could crush me if he had a mind to.

“It means that when I was twelve, Dad pull me aside and told me I could do what I wanted, but the end game was you and me. Married.”

All the air left my lungs.

He was lying.

He had to be lying.

I shook my head. “You’re lying,” I accused.

One black brow lifted. “When have I ever lied to you, Fiore?”

No.

I refused to believe it.

“No way,” I told him. “There’s no way…there’s no way our parents would arrange that without telling me.” Francisco didn’t comment. He just remained stony. “My parents…”

“It was arranged way before we were even born, Fiore,” he said. “We were always going to end up together.”

“No,” I replied, a little more forceful this time. “There’s no way my parents wouldn’t have told me. Or asked me.”

“No?” he taunted.

And then, I remembered.

I remembered the night I took Trent Hendricks’ life.

I had always found it odd that my father hadn’t been the one to drive me over, or even Uncle Luca. I had been surprised when it had been Francisco who picked me up, but I figured it was just part of his growing process within the organization.

“That night…” I whispered, anguish at everyone’s betrayal clear in those two words.

His nod was sharp and confirming. “That’s the reason I was the one who drove you to the funhouse.”

Anger was making my vision foggy. “It’s the reason you were the one who…”

He smirked, and I wanted to claw the look off his face. “The reason I was the one who took care of you afterwards?” He posed it like a question, but that’s exactly what he had done. He had taken care of me, and in more ways than one.

This was the first time we’ve ever spoken about that night. It was the first time we’ve addressed what happened between us, and, suddenly, I was hurt enough to turn his help into an act of betrayal.

“Is that why you fucked me that night?” I lashed out. “You had your property naked, and so why not take what you’d been