Page 132 of The Devil's Deal

Love,

Mom

Clutching the paper against my chest, I pull in a breath so shallow, it clenches my chest, my heartbeats stuck in my throat.

I let the tears cleanse my soul, my eyes falling to a close for mere seconds before I’m standing up, running outside. The air feels good on my lungs as I force myself to inhale, exhale, and then repeat.

I hear the heavy thud of his footsteps.

“Chiara, wait!” Dom calls, as I round the house, heading for the yard.

I try to shut the door in his face, but he plants a palm, stopping me. Marching inside as he closes the gate, I turn to him, hand on my hip, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.

“What the hell do you want from me?!”

“Baby, I’m sorry. That must’ve been a hard letter to read.”

He stands where he is, a few feet between us. When I don’t respond, he continues with a sigh.

“I care for you, Chiara. So much. Can we talk? If you want me to go after that, I will. I promise.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I glare at his softened features. “Fine. Say what you want to say and then get the fuck out of here.”

“The day we ran away, the day your father killed mine…I got a text from you. A cruel fucking text. Do you remember what you said?”

My every muscle goes rigid, cold dread washing over me, prickling at my skin. “Wha—what text, Dom? I never wrote you one. It wasn’t me.”

“Yeah, you did. You told me you never liked me, that you felt sorry for me, that my family and I are all losers like your father always said.” He moves up a step toward me. “Can you imagine how broken I felt, just seeing Matteo and Dad shot in front of me, then reading those fucking words from you, of all people?”

He palms the back of his neck, his triceps flexing through his clothes from the force of it.

I clutch my chest, gasping. “You saw them die?”

“Yeah, Chiara, I did.”

The color drains from my face. I can feel it just as much as I can feel my heart squeezing, as though shrinking into nothing.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice splits with a cry, my hands wanting to reach for him, to hold him.

Something trickles down my cheek, and I realize it’s my tears. I swipe at the remnants of my pain, hurting for the both of us.

“You need to know I never sent you those texts, Dom. I promise you. I would never say that to you. Not ever.” I shake my head, my brows huddled close. “You were my best friend. You meant everything to me. So did your family.”

Dom’s expression pales. “Then how did—”

My heartbeats thunder in my ears, the shock of it all drowning me in icy waters. My father always knew how to destroy lives. He did it flawlessly, especially to me.

“My father took my phone the day my mom di-died.” I flinch, taking a deep breath. “I never got it back until days later when he changed my number. I kept texting you to tell you I had a new one, to find out where you were, but you never replied.”

“Oh, fuck! If only I had my damn phone! I tossed it after I read your texts.”

He clenches a fist and slams it into his palm, pacing back and forth. When his eyes are finally on mine, he takes an unsure step toward me, and then another.

“If I’d known you didn’t send them…if I’d known it was him… My God, Chiara!” he roars, his features tortured.

“I can’t believe you thought so little of me and our friendship.” I shake my head in disbelief.

“I didn’t know what to think!” he shouts, not with anger, but with complete grief. “I swear, at the time, I was broken. I thought I’d lost you too, that you hated me and my family like your father did. I thought you took his side, that our friendship was over. Then as I watched you years down the line, seeing you working at the club. Athisclub. I thought your alliance was with him.”

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