He had. What other conclusion could Brielle have drawn besides believing that Fayette was telling the absolute truth? She had no reason to think her sister was lying. He knew there was that same raw hurt in his voice he felt every time he let that door open on his childhood. He hadn’t been physically abused—he’d been dangerous even at a young age and any trainer recognized that trait in him. He had been emotionally abused, but he hadn’t recognized that fact until he’d grown older and realized he had no idea what a childhood was—or how to act in a family relationship or any other kind. No one had ever loved him—not as a child and not as an adult. Like other women, Fayette and her family had regarded him as a prize.
Elie suspected that he had revealed all of his feelings to Stefano in that brief exchange. He held himself straight, although he was ashamed that he hurt Brielle. “I struck out at Jean-Claude, but the way I did it was wrong. I still feared his power,” he admitted. “I didn’t know how to express the many ways he, the family and the council had made my childhood a nightmare. I felt they shaped me into something monstrous I could never recover from. They left me with no softer side, no way to know how to be a husband or father. Then he had the gall to tell me I was going to marry an innocent girl—my girl. It was tantamount to sentencing her to live with someone cruel and brutal. Worse, I knew they all knew I’d been stalking her and tying her shadow to mine.”
That moment of recognition of just how cruel and ugly he found himself in those days washed over him. He pressed his fingers above his eyes, effectively shading his expression briefly from Stefano. He’d been an arrogant prick, so full of himself. Worse even than the Archambault family realized, but he did. He knew what he was and he had grown to despise himself. When he’d walked into Jean-Claude’s sitting room to see Brielle on the couch, holding herself so still, her innocence shining through, he felt more the monster than ever. He was the devil to her angel. He was such a prick. What he wasn’t was any of the things her sister had accused him of. He had enough sins without Fayette lying about him.
Elie cleared his throat. “I tried to apologize to Brielle. To explain to her. I loved the way she looked. I knew we were meant to be together. The vicious things I said had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. When I couldn’t get her to open her door and listen, or read my letters, I thought time might help and I came to the United States. I had hoped to finally have some kind of a relationship with my mother, but she had no interest.”
He avoided looking at Brielle. Whether she believed Fayette had lied or not, she was much like Emmanuelle in that she was compassionate. He didn’t want her pity. He wanted a lot of things from her, but pity wasn’t one of them. Truthfully, a part of him was holding on to his anger at her. He recognized that he was and that he would have to admit that to Stefano if he was going to be honest and disclose everything to the man who would judge his fate.
Mon Dieu. Shadow Riders and the sacred, rigid rules they all had to live by. He would like to be deceptive in this one thing—that he was angry with Brielle for never giving him a chance to explain his side of things to her—but ever since leaving France, he had always strived to be as honorable as he could be. It was all he had left that he could like about himself. The one trait that had gained him entrance into the Ferraro family—the code Stefano held them all to.
“Once again, I tried to contact Brielle. When I didn’t get a response, I joined the service. I continued to ride the shadows and work on my speed and keep maps in my head because it was so ingrained in me, but to be honest, I had no intention of continuing as a rider for the Archambault family. I thought I might stay in the service.” He fell silent.
Stefano took over. “You were a member of an elite strike team.”
Elie had not disclosed that particular bit of information to anyone, not even Stefano. He had admitted he had been trained as a Green Beret and served for a short time in that capacity, but he hadn’t gone any further in discussing his career in the Delta unit. He said nothing. Stefano hadn’t exactly asked. He’d made it a statement. The Ferraros, like the Archambaults, had superb investigators able to ferret out anyone’s secrets.
“You left the service though, why?”
Elie had the discipline to hold himself very still. He’d needed his woman. He wanted to find her and plead his case. He’d worked on himself in those intervening years. Tried to find reasons for her to want to be with him. She had been dropped from the shadow riding program and maybe she would be happy with his choice to leave—although he still couldn’t step away from riding the shadows and practicing every day.