Page 127 of Bitter Prince

Her eyes traveled over my shoulder to the space around me. Reina’s scent lingered. Her pink clothes lay in random corners. Even a fashion magazine she’d left half-read because I’d distracted her by running my hands over her body.

It didn’t take a genius to realize what had been happening in my apartment, and it was clear my mother got the picture.

She whirled around and faced me, storms and fury in her eyes. “I thought I told you I don’t approve of you with Reina Romero.”

I shrugged. “You did.”

“Amon—”

“Mamma, let me stop you there.” I had never cut my mother off in all my twenty-three years. It was disrespectful. But giving up Reina wasn’t an option. “Reina is not her father. Nor is she anyone else. She’s a good person, and she’s mine.” My mother flinched as if I’d hit her. “Give her a chance, and I know you’ll love her as much as I do.”

My mother’s face paled and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Amon, no.”

“Yes.” My voice was firm, clearly indicating it was non-negotiable. “Would you like some tea?”

It always made my mother feel better. Expecting a “yes,” I strode into the kitchen and started with the ritual. It took her several beats to follow me, her footsteps soft against the floor.

“Amon, please.” Her voice cracked, forcing me to turn around and look at her. I didn’t like seeing her upset. “You have to end it with her.”

Her lip trembled and my heart clenched. If she would only give Reina a chance, she’d love her. I knew it. She’d gain a daughter, and the two of them would get along well despite their differences. Maybe they could start with their love of the color pink.

“No.” It was clipped. Just the idea of not seeing Reina again made my chest hurt with an intensity that stole my breath away. A soft whimper filled the space, and I stared at my mother who rarely ever cried. A lone tear rolled down her cheek and I sprung to action. I took her hand and tried to soften my words. “At least get to know her, Mamma. I promise you’ll like her. Love her even, like she’s your own daughter.”

She shook her head. “I won’t.” Frustration clawed at my chest, but I ignored it. I’d have to tread carefully here. “I don’t want to see you hurt, musuko.” I flinched.

“Then give her a chance,” I insisted. “I love her. I want to see it through, because I know she’s the one for me.”

Another whimper passed my mother’s lips, cracking the pieces of my heart that Reina’s love had started to heal.

“I should have told you sooner,” she mumbled with a desperate expression on her face. “It’s all my fault.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Break it off with Reina Romero,” she insisted, and I dropped her hand, taking a step back. My jaw clenched so tightly I feared it’d crack. But the real whip came with my mother’s next words. “You have to break it off with her, because Tomaso Romero is your father.”

The statement hung in the air, shrouding the room in thick silence. Ominous. Sickening. It pressed on my chest and I waited. For what, I didn’t know. Maybe hope, or an admission of a tasteless joke.

Nothing came.

My mother twisted her hands nervously, her eyes burning the side of my face. With an unnatural calmness, I met her gaze. My mother. My father. My life. It was all a lie. I had a glimpse of heaven, only to have it taken away.

It left me empty.

I gave my head a subtle shake. No, it couldn’t be true. She had been against me seeing Reina from the beginning because she was a Romero.

“You’re lying,” I said, my tone bitter.

She shook her head. “I have never lied to you, musuko. When Tomaso gave me to Angelo and left me, I was pregnant.”

“Excuse me?” My voice was strangely calm while my heart and soul brewed a storm that threatened to drown me.

“You are Tomaso Romero’s son. Reina is your half sister.”

I wanted to wake up. I wanted a hint, any evidence to point to deceit and lies. Except there was none. I could see the truth in her eyes. The desperation. The pain. Yet it didn’t scratch the surface of this feeling inside my chest.

I lost the best thing that had ever happened to me while the cinnamon scent lingered everywhere, taunting me with the fucked-up shit we did.

“How long have you known?”