Page 10 of House of Lies

My foolish heart skips a beat; the bridge of my nose itches. Mattia is returning to me my fundamental human rights, and I’m such a mess that I’m on the verge of tears. To be treated as I deserve. I don’t even know what that truly means.

“Nothing can erase what you’ve done to me. Returning to me what you never had the right to take in the first place won’t change how I feel about you.”

“And how do you feel about me?”

There’s something about the way he’s looking at me—an element that was absent before. It resembles a flicker of curiosity and remorse, causing me to question if this is indeed the same man I married.

“You never once stopped to consider how I felt. Not before you said those things to me at the wedding or later that night. You didn’t pause when you struck me, called me a whore, and tore my dress to shreds. You didn’t stop when I cried and begged, or when I tried to tell you that you were mistaken,” I swallow. “You left me on the floor, bleeding and torn apart, and all you could say was, Who would have thought you were a virgin?” Mattia clenches his jaw.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out. He’ll regret asking me how I feel about him. Memories swarm within the cage I’ve attempted to bury them in. I won’t be able to hold them down for long.

“You never paused to consider how I felt when my grandmother passed away, and you forbade me from attending her funeral.” I grind my teeth, looking for the last spark of strength to tell him everything I’ve bottled up inside. I’m falling apart in front of him. “You didn’t stop, you fucking bastard! You didn’t stop when I tried to tell you I was pregnant, so you hit me again and again and again.” All the color drains from Mattia’s face. He appears to want to strike something, and for the first time in our marriage, I don’t believe the target of his rage will be me. “You wouldn’t let me go to the hospital. You didn’t even bother to call a doctor.” Everything becomes a blur. “And then you said your only regret was that I didn’t die that night as well. So,” I take a deep breath, “if, after all of this, you’re uncertain about how I fucking feel about you ... You’re even more stupid than I thought.”

Silence stretches between us for what feels like an eternity. My heart pounds in my chest, my hands are clammy, and my breathing is erratic.

He stares at me, unblinking.

“Fuck!” he shouts, hurling his laptop across the room, his body tense.

It collides with the wall, shattering into pieces, much like what remains of my heart.

Then he storms out of the room, punching a hole in the wall near the door.

I never reminded him of the child I lost. I never told him that, as cruel as it may sound, I believe he did me a favor that night. No child should have Mattia Benedetti as their father. No one should endure that kind of hell.

CHAPTER 6

Kaz

I wish I could go back to Russia and torture Mattia for days before I kill him. For months. Fucking years, just to make him feel a fraction of the pain Caelia went through. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to navigate this situation without telling her the truth. Last night, after I left her room, I destroyed everything in my path. It would have been so easy to pull her into my arms and assure her that there was nothing to fear and that he wouldn’t come back. But I couldn’t. And the last person she would want comfort from is the man who resembles the monster that inflicted those horrors upon her. She suffers from nightmares because of him. Most nights, I stay awake, watching over her, fighting the urge to wake her and reassure her that everything will be all right. It doesn’t help that she has been sleeping on that damn chair, the one I want to set on fire.

I thought I could make things right by giving her back what he took away and finding some middle ground. But it’s foolish. It’s cruel. As I stare at my bruised knuckles, I feel like I’m losing control. My head is pounding, and my vision goes in and out of focus. I sit alone in the kitchen, contemplating whether to make my coffee Irish at seven o’clock in the morning. A MacBook and an iPhone are on the table, both brand new, waiting for her. A black card rests on top of them. I don’t know her taste in books, so I bought her a gift card from Barnes & Noble. There’s no gift meaningful enough to ask for forgiveness for something I didn’t do or for what my wretched twin brother did.

The deal is off.

As far as my uncle is concerned, she’s a pawn, but his opinion doesn’t matter. Every time I look at her, something stirs within me—the desire to touch her burns in my fingertips, to mend all the broken pieces, to taste her, and to alleviate the pain that consumes her. She is as vital to me as the air I breathe.

Her footsteps are light, barely audible. She moves through the walls like a ghost in what should be a safe place for her.

“Morning.” Her eyes meet mine, but she doesn’t stop.

I’m taken aback because she speaks first. After last night, I didn’t expect to hear another word from her ever again. And I wouldn’t blame her. Caelia wears a robe over her pajamas, her red hair tied in a loose ponytail.

“Morning.”

It’s far from a good morning, and we both know it.

“What do you want to eat?” she asks, opening the fridge.

It takes me a moment to realize she’s referring to our deal. She’s here because I demanded it in exchange for everything she needs and should have. I agreed to have Giuliana cook some days, but I don’t want more people around than necessary.

“The deal’s off, Wildfire.”

“What?” She turns around slowly, one hand holding the fridge door open, disappointment engraved on her features.

“The deal’s off,” I repeat.

“Off?” She furrows her brows, shifting from one foot to the other. Sometimes, it feels like we’re speaking different languages. When she looks at me, she sees a savage—a monster. She pleaded with Mattia countless times, but he never listened. Caelia has no reason to believe this time will be any different. “What does that mean? Are things going to go back to how they used to be?”

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