Page 65

Emilio DeLuca.

My father’s name.

With trembling hands, I lift the folder from the drawer. It’s thicker than the others, worn at the edges as if frequently handled. My heart hammers so loudly I’m certain it will give me away. I’m just about to open it when Marco’s voice, deadly quiet, cuts through the roaring in my ears.

“Found something interesting?”

I don’t need to look up to know he’s there, filling the doorway with his presence. I hear the soft click of the door closing, the measured steps as he crosses the room toward me.

Still, I can’t tear my eyes from the folder. I’m so close to answers, if only I open this. But, I don’t. I just stand there, holding these secrets I so want to know, a deer caught in the headlights.

The shadows shift, and his hand appears in my line of vision, snatching the folder from my grasp before I can make one more move. His fingers are white-knuckled around the edges.

Slowly, I raise my head to meet his gaze.

Marco’s face is drained of color, his green eyes dark with anger. For once, his carefully constructed mask has slipped, revealing something raw and agonized beneath.

“What did you want?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Answers,” I whisper, looking up at him. “You know my family.”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t try to explain it away. He just stands there, clutching the folder, and gives me a nod.

“Why?” I ask, and I’m surprised by how steady my voice sounds when everything inside me is collapsing. “Why keep that from me? Why not just tell me what you know so I can find some peace? What’s in the folder?”

“Because you won’t find peace.” His words come out strangled. “You know who your parents are. Isn’t that enough?”

“I want to know who killed them!” I insist. “I want to?—”

“Why?” His voice comes strangled. “Why does it matter?”

“Revenge,” I say, lifting my chin.

There’s a momentary silence. A quiet in the air. Something breaks in his expression at that. He takes a step toward me, then stops himself.

“Revenge never ends well. It’s dangerous.”

I clench to hide how badly my hands are shaking. “But… you’re powerful, aren’t you? You can protect me, can’t you? Unless you think I’m a liability… not worth your time.” My voice trembles as tears pool in my eyes, at the thought that this whole time, I believed he would do anything for me.

“No.” The vehemence in his voice startles me. “I’dneverview you as a liability. Everything I’ve done has been to protect you.”

“Protect me?” I laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. “By keeping me ignorant? You can protect me by arming me with the truth!”

“I can protect you by keeping you alive!” he says, and there’s such raw honesty in his voice that it momentarily silences me.

Before I can react, his hands are cupping my face, his touch impossibly gentle despite the intensity burning in his eyes.

“I’ll keep you safe, Aria. Both of you. I swear it. Just… stop digging. It can bring you nothing but pain.”

I want to believe him. God help me, despite everything, I want to trust the sincerity blazing in his eyes. But the folder on the table tells a different story.

“Why should I trust you?” I shriek. “You knew my family and won’t tell me a word!”

“Because I’m your husband!” he roars, towering over me.

“And what kind of husband lets their wife suffer like this?” I scream, “Does it make you happy, keeping me in the dark?”

I gasp as Marco’s hands clamp down on either side of me, his body caging me in as he has me pinned against the desk.