Page 73 of Handsome Devil

“I’d become an extension of him. He took me on work trips. Business meetings. Holidays around the world. I learned the ropes and the craft of his profession as a real estate mogul. I was eighteen when I realized why Daniel decided to adopt meout of nowhere. It wasn’t because of charity. Not all of it anyway. He needed someone to inherit his business and had no family to speak of. And me, I was a genius child. A wonder kid. By nineteen, I had a master’s degree. I served as his CFO and de facto CEO as he eased himself into early retirement. A brilliant plan, if you ask me.” He smiled ruefully.

“Why did he need to retire so early?” I frowned.

“So he could focus on his first love and his greatest addiction—gambling.” He grimaced. “Daniel was a gambler. It was a compulsion. He had no self-control when it came to the poker table. He’d been blacklisted from most East Coast casinos. The only ones who were willing to let him play were the Ferrantes, and even they only did so because their bouncers roughened him into submission whenever need be.”

Little by little, I felt my anger melting, giving way to empathy. Tate obviously went through a traumatic childhood and adolescence. No one had ever loved this man unconditionally. The only person who ever resembled a parent to him was a stranger and an addict. Strings were always attached to him being accepted. Be it his talent for his adoptive father, money for his lovers, power and connections for his friends.

“It was an artificial match, he and I, but it worked,” Tate explained. “I threw him into rehab a few times, but he always went back to the tables. Still, I allowed myself to get attached to him. He was the closest person to me. Then one day, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He killed a man. Accidentally. The victim was found with his head smashed in. Dad explained he did it in self-defense. That the man attacked him. The jury went back and forth for days.”

My blood froze in my veins.

No. No. No.No.

My secret, my origin, mysin, was Tate’s personal heartbreak.

“He was sentenced to five years in prison with parole. He had an excellent legal team and no criminal record. All he had to do was stay alive. But then three of his inmates murdered him for winning a poker game and not wanting to give up his earnings.” Tate’s lips flattened, steel eyes clouding. “It was barely forty bucks, but Dad was always serious about his gambling. They were Irish Mafia. The Callaghan clan.”

The pieces clicked together all at once.

I swallowed down bile, biting down on a scream.

Tate continued speaking. “My father, the only person I have ever cared about, the only person who showed me love, sympathy, and devotion, was taken away from me. And it all happened because of a nameless foreign student who witnessed the so-called killing in an alleyway and decided to call the cops.”

A loaded beat of silence passed. I closed my eyes. A tear slid along my cheek.

“That person was you, Gia.”

I was violently nauseous.

“The police had no idea who you were, but I pulled every string possible and found your name.” Tate’s tone was businesslike. “Gia Bennett. Honor student. Gifted tennis player. Goody Two-Shoes. Perfect but not enough to step forward and testify at the time of the trial. I guess you had more pressing issues than helping my father not get thrown into prison.”

I’d returned to England at the time.

To be with Mum.

I was trying to take care of her and not fall apart.

I was never subpoenaed.

This explained why he first saw me in a snowstorm. The timeline put it a few weeks after Daniel’s sentence.

It explained why he orchestrated an entire scenario where he’d meet and hire me on the spot.

Why he loathed me with every fiber of his body.

“You knew they searched for you,” Tate said metallically. “Why didn’t you make yourself known?”

“I was scared,” I admitted, my voice scratchy. “I didn’t want to get into trouble.”

He gave me a smile so cold my body temperature dropped below zero. “No. God forbid perfect Gia would get herself into trouble. How’s that been working for you, by the way?”

I looked down at my fingers, which were splayed across the margarita’s base.

It all made sense. Why he insisted on marrying me. Why he did insane things that put my life in danger. I tried to avoid consequences, so he brought them to my doorstep, the fucked-up teacher that he was.

“At first, I wanted my payback quickly.” Tate crossed his long legs, puffing on his cigarette. “Get you deported as soon as you arrived back in the States from your summer break. Maybe let the Ferrantes teach you a few lessons. But then you returned, and I drove to your dorms when your new school year started. Saw you for the first time. And you were beautiful. So infuriatingly beautiful.” He closed his eyes, jaw tight as his throat worked around a swallow. “Pure. With your wide smile and dimples and knee-length pastel dresses. And I decided to take my revenge slowly. Really relish it. This is why I scouted you.” He tapped his cigarette on the ashtray. “Why I never let you go. I wanted to prolong your suffering. To ensure you were as miserable as I was.”

“But…” I licked my lips, frowning. “My…I…the man I met that night. His last name wasn’t Blackthorn.”