Page 77 of Deception

“I hadn’t decided, honestly.” I don't mean to be short with her, but my temper has been rubbed raw today. The responsibilities of my life avalanching back onto my shoulders.

Her eyebrows furrow. “You can talk to me, you know, tell me what's going on. What's bothering you? You haven’t been yourself all day.”

“I really can't. I mean, I shouldn’t.”

“You won’t, you mean.” Her tone goes flat.

It's tempting. To get all of my woes off my chest.

“Why won’t you just?—”

“You know, sometimes you really push too far. All your fucking questions,” I snap.

She's taken aback for a second, watching my closely.

“I seem to remember you liking my inquisitive nature. But you never actually tell me anything. Every answer is a dodge, a move on a chess board,” she bites back, bitterness in her voice. “We can just be lovers, if that’s all you want. We can just be physical. But I don’t think that either of us really want that.”

“I shouldn’t have even done that,” I say before I can stop myself. “I have to make the hard calls. I didn’t, and now look at us.”

“Fine. So you make a hard call. Say you end this, you shove down the guilt, the pain, and move on. Go back to your life. Alone. Miserable. And for what?”

“It’s my obligation.”

“Then better for you to have let me die out there in the blizzard when I knocked on your door. Better that we never met.”

“It would be!” I shout, staggering to my feet.

“Always playing the martyr, Alessando. Living your life for everyone but yourself. Denying anything good for you!”

“What I want doesn't matter. I do what I have to do.”

“There’s always a choice.” She stabs her finger into my chest.

A snarl reaches my lips at the gesture, tempting me to snatch her hand, break her finger. “You have no idea who I really am.”

“Thenshowme who you really are. Let me in, Alessandro!”

“I've already let this go too far.”

She's leaning over the desk, glaring at me. Challenging me.

“Show. Me. Who. You. Really. Are.”

In a heartbeat I'm over the desk, crushing her in my arms, our mouths colliding feverishly. The heady scent of wine fills my nostrils.

I slam her into the door, closing it and tear her gown from her, ripping the straps to expose her tits, devouring one nipple whole.

“Oh, God yes! More!” Yet there’s a wide-eyed hint of terror in her eyes, or maybe it’s just surprise at my outburst.

I find that I don’t care which.

I’ve wanted to show her the truth for days.

I pull away without hesitation, leaving her stumbling in my wake, storming over to the bookcase. I click the button under the shelf, opening the secret door.

The door swings back quietly on greased hinges, the lights flickering on automatically, revealing my private chamber. A room I had made for a day I thought would never come.

Isa’s eyes widen as she approaches, surveying the room, realization dawning as she sees what lies within.

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