My hands shake as I pull them into my chest. Not that I’ll be able to protect myself if he lashes out. “That day I went into your office looking for you. What I found was the answer to a question I’ve been asking myself for years. Who was the woman that day? Who had I helped my father murder?”
His eyes bore into mine, the depth unimaginable. I can’t look away. I can’t breathe. I can’t think…not until I get the rest of my confession out.
“So now you know why I ran. I’m the one who killed your mother. I’m the one who left you to your father’s cruel abuse…It’s all my fault.”
43
ADRIAN
It’s like every fear and failure and nightmare comes spewing out of her pretty little mouth all at once. She says she’s sorry enough times that it’s all she’s mumbling now through tear-soaked lashes and worry-worn lips.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I’m so sorry.”
If she apologizes one more time, I’m going to lose my shit. I gently ease her off my lap and climb off the bed… needing the distance.
In my head, of course, she was a child and innocent of the crimes she confessed. But as a son and a man who misses his mother every single day, it’s so fucking hard to hear.
She’s looking at me for reassurance, or explanation maybe. I can’t give her that. I can only turn away and survey the broken fixtures littering the room. A fitting environment, considering how utterly destroyed I am now, too.
Fuck. Can we come back from this?
I can’t even look at her. The thought makes me want to rage all over again. And this time, the storm might not spare her.
“Adrian?” Her voice is whisper-soft, another contrast to my own roiling emotions. It hurts even more because she uses my name. She never says my name unless I ask her to… or coax her into it.
I don’t turn around for fear of harming her or saying something I’ll regret later. “Don’t. Stay over there, and I’ll try to talk about this with you again later.”
Her gasp echoes in my head, so much louder than her shocked inhale.
Thankfully, she doesn’t utter another word, and I march out of the room, my feet rolling over broken glass. Just to get free.
With nowhere else to go, I head straight for my office. There is a spare closet with some extra clothes. At the very least, I can shove on a pair of pants. Clothing will help if I need to put even more distance between Val and me.
Andrea has gone back to bed. The penthouse is quiet, but inside my head is the opposite. Everything is spinning, trying to realign what I know about my mother’s disappearance, my father’s death, Valentina’s father’s death… all of it. But it’s too much, especially after hours of drinking, finally getting my wife back, and then only a couple of hours of sleep.
My brain and my body are both on edge. If I tip over, everyone will suffer. Most of all Val.
As quickly as possible, I shimmy into a pair of slacks and a white button-down. Then I shrug into a jacket, grab my shoes, and throw myself into the chair behind my desk. Tiny shards of glass are embedded into the sole of my foot.
It takes several minutes, but I remove each of them and slip my socks and shoes over the wounds. Nothing is bleeding enough to consider a doctor. I shoot off a text to the housekeeper because she needs to clean our bedroom before Val suffers further from my anger.
With a long sigh, I toss my phone onto the desk and take a deep breath. It doesn’t take long for a knock to interrupt. Kai steps into the room before I give him permission to enter.
He nods, his suit perfect despite the bruises on his face. “Boss.”
“What are you doing up?”
“I could ask you the same thing. Is something wrong with Valentina?”
I shake my head, not ready to talk about what she revealed. Not when it burns down everything I’ve known for most of my life. “She’s sleeping, I think.”
If only she hadn’t killed her father. I’d be able to do it… get the revenge I’m owed. Right now, I want to punish her, the only member of her heinous family left. Yet she doesn’t deserve it. I know she doesn’t deserve the rage I want to pile onto her like blanket after blanket to appease this anger.
I shove from the chair and head for the armory. I punch in the code to unlock the door, shove inside the room, flip on the light, and survey my options with practiced ease. If I can’t kill a fucking Novak, then I’ll destroy the only thing left of the Novak dynasty.
Kai steps in behind me as I select a few things from the wall. When I turn to face him, he quirks an eyebrow, asking the question despite the purple bruising around his orbital bones.