Page 95 of A Beautiful Crime

“She’s an astonishing copy of her mamma,” Constantine replies, shocking me. My eyes widen slightly as I find him already staring down at me.

I have always thought of my mamma as a beautiful woman. Stunning, even in her despair. Striking, even when shrouded by fear.

Papa had fallen in love with her beauty and innocence. And while he succeeded in ruining her innocence no one could take her beauty.

Even in death.

May her god rest her kind tortured soul.

Throat clogged with unknown emotions I muster up the strength to say to him, “Thank you.”

With his free hand he runs his knuckles lovingly across my cheekbone. And for the moment I allow myself to sink into his touch. “But I much prefer your eyes, mia leonessa. They come alive only for me.”

My lips part with a sharp inhale. And I feel it. The gravitational pull. The tether that ties us. I feel myself succumbing to him.

How very dangerous but oh so intoxicating.

His eyes cut away from mine and leave me feeling bereft and hollow. “Stare at her longer than necessary and you won’t be able to see again.”

Marquise laughs. “God has given us eyes to appreciate beauty, Constantine.”

He replies coolly, “And I can just as easily take them away.”

Marquise rubs his jaw, eyeing up Constantine in a playful yet assessing way. In the end white flags of surrender wave in his eyes. “I have a Queen of my own, Constantine. Baby girl would have my eyes before you could.”

Constantine smirks and Pietro snorts. “She’s quite the hellcat.”

His smile widens. “Wouldn’t have her any other way.” He then claps his hands together and rubs them as if he’s getting warmed up. “So, when is he arriving?”

My brows pull together in confusion. “When is who arriving?” I ask no one in particular but hope one of them answers.

A heavy silence falls in the room. One where tension builds and panic has its hold on your throat.

And suddenly I feel like an outsider. As if Constantine has been controlling the lens. The same way papa had controlled the lens with me.

All of his pleas to trust him. . .

Who would it be for him to warrant that of me blindly?

My eyes remain on him but I can hear the sound of footsteps in the distance. Loud and foreboding they come closer. My eyes plead with him to tell me who we are meeting with. His eyes plead for me to trust him.

And then I hear his voice. His sinister and calculative voice that has my entire body tense. “Mia cara sorella.”

CHAPTER 19

Carina

Something inside me breaks. What, I have not a clue. But something inside me that was blooming because of him withers. And there’s the bitter taste of betrayal in my mouth. What’s worse, the flare of pain I feel in the cavity of my ribs.

And for once my eyes fail in concealing it.

Damn him.

Fucking damn him.

“Carina,” he says my name in half warning and half apprehension.

And as he lays his hand on my arm to steady the emotions whirring inside me I don’t find the calmness. I only feel the storm.

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