Page 50 of Darkest Sin

As much as I wish I could be that for her, I need her to fear me, to truly understand who I am. It just happened that Evie is so socially awkward that the moment Chiara came racing in, Evie’s anxiety peaked, and in Chiara’s haste, she couldn’t tell the difference between Evie’s fear and her anxiety.

The moment Chiara was gone and the door closed behind her, Evie wasted no time to chastise me, but she couldn’t deny that I’d done her a kindness. Refusing to allow Chiara to break on her resolve and give me Monica’s name saved her from a burden that Evie knows all too well. Chiara won’t always have the luxury of taking the high ground. Given enough time in this world, she will eventually have her hands stained by another’s blood, and when that time comes, I’ll be right here to hold her up.

Making my way up the stairs, my gaze lingers on Chiara’s closed door, and I turn away, heading for my room instead. I haven’t seen her since she barged in on me and Evie, and the sorrow that flashed in her eyes when she turned her back and walked away nearly destroyed me. She clearly has a lot she needs to work through, but for now, I’ll allow her to rest. We’ll talk in the morning.

Walking up to my bedroom door, I find it open just a sliver and I push my way through to find Chiara sitting on my bed, her knees pulled up to her chest as she focuses too hard on the black sheets beneath her.

I don’t say anything, sensing she’s the one who wants to do the talking. Instead, I stride through my room as I work the buttons on my shirt. A moment of tension-filled silence passes, and just as my shirt hits the floor, I finally hear the soft brokenness of her voice filling the air.

“I suppose you got a name then?” Chiara asks, not able to meet my eye.

I lean back against my dresser, simply watching her on my bed. “Yes,” I say, deciding not to give her the whole truth about why Evie was really here. If they become close at any point, then that’s a truth I’ll leave up to her to share. Though to be completely honest, if Chiara did feel the need to make friends outside of my home, Evie would be the best option. She’s entirely too guarded for Chiara’s likes, but she’s the only one who wouldn’t intentionally stab her in the back.

Disappointment flashes in her lifeless eyes, and I realize that despite needing to be cruel in order to protect her from the burden of Monica’s punishment, I’ve instead burdened her with the guilt of Evie’s interrogation. She believes I broke her to get that information, and for now, she needs time to process that.

Her gaze flashes up briefly, but that second is more than enough to show her heartbreak. I’ve broken her, and I fucking hate myself for it, but she should learn now that just because I didn’t have to resort to brutality this time doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have.

Chiara lets out a heavy breath before getting to her feet and walking to my door. She opens it wider and leaves her hand on the door, pausing and glancing back at me, the heaviness between us almost crippling. “The reason I was down there is because I was coming to look for you. I’d figured out a solution that I thought could be suitable and wanted to discuss that with you, but I see now I was foolish to assume you would actually allow me to take the reins on that one.”

Her stab stings, but sensing she’s not done yet, I don’t respond.

“I looked for you in your office, and when you weren’t there,” she continues, pausing to meet my stare, but the darkness in her gaze puts me on edge. “I went looking in your little room of horrors.”

“And?” I prompt, arching a brow.

“And you make me sick,” she says. “I saw the pictures and the police report from the Donatelli massacre, and though your name wasn’t anywhere on it, that brutality . . . it was you.”

I nod, not willing to sugarcoat it. “It was.”

Her bottom lip trembles, but she lifts her chin and goes on. “And the people you have locked up on those security screens. The man hanging from chains and the woman with her nails pulled.” Chiara pauses and again I don’t respond, giving her a moment to figure out what she wants to say. “You’re really not the man I thought you were.”

Meeting her broken stare, I take a step toward her, grateful when she doesn’t flinch or try to move away. “Do you fear me, Chiara?”

She nods, not hesitating for even a moment. “Yes.”

Her honesty wounds me, but when she first arrived here, honesty is what I demanded, and I can’t fault her for giving me exactly what I asked for. “And do you still wish to love me?” I ask, remembering her words in that maze as clearly as though they were tattooed across my chest.

She visibly swallows as tears roll down her cheeks, and I want nothing more than to close the gap between us and pull her into my arms, giving every last reason for why I’ve done all the terrible things she accuses me of. Her hand shakes against the door, and I see the exact moment the last of her resolve breaks and the pain radiates from her beautiful eyes. “How could I possibly love someone like you?”

And with that, Chiara slips out the door and walks away, leaving me a fucking mess.

24

CHIARA

I’m a fucking mess.

It’s been two days since I saw what Killian kept in his little room of horrors, and since then, I’ve done everything within my power to avoid him like the plague, but when you live within the same home and your bedroom doors are only feet apart, avoiding someone is a lot harder than it sounds.

I miss him. That’s insane, right?

I miss his touch. His warmth. His stupid delicious rich accent.

I want his arms around me, his lips on my body, and those deadly eyes locked on mine. But most of all, I just want him. I want things to be the way they were before I discovered his little room of horrors.

God, I hate this.

Don’t get me wrong, I see him more than I care for at the moment. His presence within this home is impossible to ignore. He’s everywhere. Every room I walk into, he’s right there taking care of business. I feel his deadly gaze on me like lasers in the night, and while I hear his voice, it’s never directed at me.

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