When She Loves (The Fallen, #4)(104)

I’m half expecting her to turn around and walk out of the room, but she surprises me by taking a seat across the table from me.

“Who’s running things while you’re gone?” she asks, her voice clipped.

“Alec.”

“Oh, I remember him from my birthday party.” She reaches for the bowl of fruit salad. “He’s one of your capos.”

“He’s been promoted to my underboss.” I didn’t have an official underboss until now because Nero always played the part of my second-in-command.

Cleo’s gaze darts to me. “I’m surprised you trust him enough to run things while you’re here.”

I do, and I don’t. Alec is loyal and smart, but he needs more experience before he can even come close to the standard set by Nero. A few weeks ago, leaving him in charge of my family would be unthinkable, but I didn’t even hesitate to do exactly that two days ago. The only thing that mattered was getting here. Getting to Cleo.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

She scoops some fruit onto her plate. “You always have a choice. You can go home.”

“You are my home.”

She halts, her spoon midair. Pain flashes across her expression, like my words physically hurt.

“If you keep saying things like that, I’ll have no choice but to ask Damiano to kick you out,” she whispers, putting the spoon down, her gaze on her plate.

“I can’t. Not until you and I finish our conversation.”

Her lips purse into a thin line. “Rafaele, honestly. What are you hoping to accomplish? There’s no path forward for us.”

“I disagree.”

“Do you think I can just forget that you tossed me away at the first sign of trouble?” she says harshly, trying to mask her hurt with anger, but she doesn’t quite succeed.

I stand up and walk over to sit in the chair beside her. She stiffens when I place my hand on her forearm, but she doesn’t pull away.

“A lot went wrong that day. I couldn’t handle the thought of you being hurt, and I acted in ways I regret.”

She stares at my hand. “That’s not all it was. You reacted very differently when I got hurt when we got attacked at Il Caminetto.”

“Yes, but that was before—”

Forest-green eyes flit to me, a question written in them. “Before what?”

My pulse skitters and I swallow. It feels like every word coming out of my mouth is critically important. I’ve sat in many negotiations where that’s been the case, but this is the first time I’ve been this fucking nervous.

“At Il Caminetto, I was in control. I knew I could protect you. But when I got the call from your father, I had no idea where you were or who you were with. I didn’t know how to find you. I couldn’t trust your father to keep his word, and yet I couldn’t ignore his demands. I couldn’t be in two places at the same time. It was torture to imagine you being hurt while there was nothing I could do. It’s why I called Ferraro. I was desperate.”

A tiny bit of sympathy seeps into her expression. “You were?”

“Yes. And I didn’t know how to handle it. I never learned how to process my emotions. I only learned how to shove them away and pretend they didn’t exist. That’s what I had to do to survive my father. It’s what I had to do to make sure my mother survived him too.”

She frowns, a line appearing between her brows.

“The sheer intensity of my feelings for you overwhelmed me,” I continue. “It was like being hit with a tidal wave and being dragged away by the strongest current you could possibly imagine. I retreated somewhere safe.” I drag my palm down her forearm and take her hand. “I’m not saying this to justify how I treated you, Cleo. There is no excuse. But I think if I want there to be a path forward for us, I have to be more open with you.”

Surprise flickers inside her gaze. I curl my fingers between hers. She lets me, but she doesn’t return the gesture.

“I talked to my sisters about you. About everything.”

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth about why I am the way I am.” I clear my throat. “It was far overdue. You said my mother told you about what happened when I was a kid?”

Cleo nods. “She did.”

“I don’t know what specific details she shared.”

Her face softens. “She said your father beat her and forced you to witness it. If you cried, he’d keep going. He made you learn how to lock your feelings away.”

“Did she tell you about the rape?”

She pales. “What? No.”

It doesn’t surprise me that Mamma didn’t tell her that part. A prickle of resistance appears in the back of my head at sharing our secret with one more person. Even though our relationship is irreparably broken, my mother has always held out hope for me. And I know she would understand my reasons for sharing this information with Cleo.

“My father raped her in front of me. Forced me to watch.”

Cleo’s mouth falls open. She squeezes my hand hard. “Oh my God. Our wedding night…”

“I…” There’s an ache in my throat. “I decided a long time ago that I’d never be like him. I would never hurt the people I’m supposed to protect. Ever.”