Page 75 of Claimed By the Enemy

I hope he means that. Because tomorrow, when I tell him about Uncle Enzo’s ultimatum and the promise I made and the choice I’ve been forced to make, he’s going to understand just how much loving him has cost me.

And I’m going to hope it’s enough.

Because if it’s not, if Dom can’t forgive me for the lies and the secrets and the betrayals I’ve committed in the name of protecting him, then Uncle Enzo won’t need to kill him.

The truth will destroy him just fine on its own.

Chapter Eighteen

Dom

“You want me to what?”

Raff stares at me from across my office like I’ve just asked him to commit murder. Maybe, in a way, I have.

“I want you to find out what Sophie’s hiding,” I repeat, keeping my voice steady despite the turmoil in my chest. “She’s planning to tell me something today, but I need to know what I’m walking into.”

“Dom, this is Sophie we’re talking about. Your wife.”

“My wife, who’s been lying to me for weeks, disappeared yesterday and came back with a story full of holes.” I lean back in my chair, exhaustion weighing down my bones. “My wife, whom I love more than my own life, is exactly why I need to know what she’s not telling me.”

Raff runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I recognize from our college days when he was trying to talk me out of particularly stupid decisions. “So you want me to spy on her.”

“I want you to protect her. And me. And whatever chance we have at making this marriage work.”

“By violating her trust.”

“Her trust?” I force a laugh. “Raff, she’s been playing games with me since the day we met. The only difference is now I care about the outcome.”

“Do you? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re sabotaging the first real relationship you’ve ever had.”

“I’m trying to save it.”

“Are you? Or are you looking for an excuse to run before she can hurt you first?”

The question hits too close to home. Maybe that’s exactly what I’m doing. Maybe I’m so terrified of losing Sophie that I’m willing to destroy what we have to protect myself from the inevitable.

“I can’t do this blind, Raff. If Sophie’s uncle is planning something, if she’s still caught between loyalty to him and whatever she feels for me, I need to know.”

“Then ask her.”

“I tried. She deflects, changes the subject, gives me just enough truth to make the lies go down easier.”

“So you’re going to go behind her back instead?”

“I’m going to get answers the only way I know how.”

Raff leans forward, his expression serious. “Dom, listen to me. Sophie loves you.”

“Does she?”

“Yes. I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching. I’ve seen the way she lights up when you walk into a room. Whatever games she might have been playing before, whatever lies she might have told, what she feels for you now is real.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know you. And I know that you wouldn’t have fallen for someone who was just playing a part. Your instincts are too good for that.”

I want to believe him. Want to trust that what Sophie and I have built over these past weeks is real, not just another manipulation in an elaborate revenge plot.