Page 53 of Scandalous Kingpin

“What about him?” I asked, my voice cold. Detached.

“He was a principal of St. Gabriel’s school in Chicago, wasn’t he?” That fucking man stole my life. “He’s a cardinal now.”

I remained silent for a long time while the panic began to take root in my chest. I sucked in slow breaths, trying to will away the sickening images of what I endured.

No.

I wouldn’t let him win. I’d come too far, burying the night terrors somewhere deep where only the Grim Reaper ruled.

“I’m sure those red robes match the stains on his soul,” I stated matter-of-factly.

The look in her hazel eyes was filled with concern. The telltale signs of sorrow washed over her features—the furrow of her brows or chewing of her bottom lip. If I wasn’t mistaken, this woman cared for me. Deeply.

“He hurt you.” Her voice softened. “He hurt others too. He should pay so you can get peace.”

She… understands.

“And you want to deliver him to me?”

She clutched my elbow harshly, but the pain didn’t register.

“Yes.” Her voice was a low, furious murmur and it hit me like a freight train. She understood me.

“And it doesn’t bother you?” I asked instead.

Her brows furrowed.

“Botherme?” Her voice was almost undignified. She released a breath and I allowed a small smile to curve my lips. “I want to murder him for you.”

“I hear a woman's wrath is a dangerous thing,” I remarked, trying to calm the beast roaring inside of me.

Her arms squeezed around me. “It can be,” Ivy whispered. “If you prefer I take care of him, I?—”

“No.” The thought of that sick bastard anywhere near her made me want to tear the world apart. “You’re not to go near him.”

Ivy stiffened and I looked away, my eyes stabbing out the airplane window, seeing nothing but clouds. She was innocent and pure. Father Gabriel was an incurable disease, one that needed to be carved out, and I wouldn’t be exposing Ivy to him.

“How did you guess?” I questioned. When I told her about the day Dante and I burned our house down, I didn’t mention the abuse I’d endured at the principal’s hand.

“It was something about the way you mentioned Father Gabriel. Your mind went somewhere dark, lonely, and it set the wheels in motion.” She swallowed, meeting my eyes. “I’ve seen it before.”

“Did someone hurt you, angel?” My hold on her tightened.

She shook her head. “No, not me. Someone else. Someone close to me. But that’s not my story to tell.”

Relief hit me hard, and I loosened my hold on her, the darkness receding a bit.

“I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone. My whole story.”

Ivy looked up at me, and I saw nothing but patience. So, I took a deep breath and began.

“My mother hated my guts. It wasn’t until I learned Aisling Brennan was my real mother that I finally understood why.” Shenodded with compassion. “Not that that explained her hate for Dante.”

“Maybe he reminded her of his father,” she offered sagely.

“Probably.” I rolled my jaw, grateful she was giving me the space to continue.

“Christian, she was an evil person,” she whispered softly, her expression sad. “There is no point in trying to understand a person with that much hate inside.”