Page 63 of His Vow
“Why do you hate my husband?” I fire back.
“Antonio Barbieri is a dangerous man,” he growls.
My mouth gapes until I can find my words. “Why would you say that?”
“He attacked his own cousin. A man of morals doesn’t do that to family.”
A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I shake my head to clear it. “What? Who told you that?” I demand, my anger firing back up again.
He stands abruptly and strides to the window, and I wonder if he’s even going to answer me.
“His cousin Bruno, when I found him as a teenager crying and bleeding by the gate down there.” He points through the window toward the villa gate, then turns around to face me again. “That kind of rage will always be in your husband.” His tone is now low with warning.
“That’s why you sent me away to Switzerland?”
“Of course. I didn’t want you being friends with someone who could be that violent.” He takes a few steps toward me, then stops. “You would tell me if he ever hurt you, wouldn’t you?”
I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen my father looking unsure of a situation.
A calmness ripples over me, settling my shaky hands on my lap. “Let me explain what really happened that day.” I swallow down the bile in my throat, trying to find the words I probablyshould have told him back then. “Bruno attacked me on the lower terrace, and Antonio came to my rescue.”
My father’s face remains impassive like he really doesn’t understand.
“Papa,” I yell in frustration, “Bruno was sexually assaulting me. Antonio pulled him off me, before he could …”
This time his composure cracks.
“Ferma!” he booms. Heat floods his jowls, turning them stop-light red, and his fists clench at his side.
“That’s why Antonio punished him,” I add, all fight gone from my voice. It’s now weak, diminished. My vision is blurry with unshed tears.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he growls.
“Why didn’t you ask me?” I draw in a deep breath. “I probably should have told you and Mamma. But I was embarrassed, and I thought it was somehow my fault. I was young and naive. But I don’t believe that now.” I stand up and walk to my father where he stands like he’s cast from stone. “Antonio would never raise a hand to me or any woman. But he would fight to the death to protect me. He’s the best man I know, and I love him.” I place my hand on his arm, and his fists unfurl.
“I owe your husband an apology.” His mouth twists with the acknowledgment of his mistake. “And Bruno Barbieri is overdue my retribution.”
“No, Papa, let it be. It was so long ago.”
He grimaces. “I can’t. Nobody hurts my family and gets away with it.” My heart squeezes.
My father has never shown his family love with soft words and hugs. He’s always kept his distance emotionally and physically, locking himself away in his offices. But I’m starting to realize it doesn’t mean he loved us less. While I don’t fully understand his version of tough love, I’m willing to acknowledge that it exists.
“I’m going to go and rest before Mamma and Dante arrive. Will I see you at dinner?”
“Sì. We will have dinner tonight with all of the family together,” he says, instantly back to his domineering self, but for once, it doesn’t grate on my nerves. That one glimpse of my father’s softer side might feel like a mirage, but I know I saw it.
And as I turn to leave, my mouth tilts into a small smile.
Chapter twenty-seven
Antonio
“Is Gio with you?” Nico demands when I’ve barely said hello after answering his call. His voice holds an ominous tone that has my back straightening and my slumped shoulders from hunching over my laptop tensing.
“Yep, right beside me. We’re in the conference room.”
“Alone?”
