Page 42 of Sweetest Sin
14
Dominick
“Dominick,”Brielle says, her tone ice-cold, “I thought we talked about this.”
I step into our grandparents’ house—which Brielle owns since they left it to her—and close the door behind me, setting my overnight bag on the ground.
“No, I told you that it was time to come home, and you hung up on me.”
“I thought my hanging up made it clear that thisismy home.”
She juts out her chin, and I can’t help but grin at her defiance.
“Bri, I flew twelve hours. How about you give me a hug, and then we can talk?”
I open my arms, but she stays where she is.
Stubborn fucking woman.
“Talk?” She scoffs. “Fuck you and your talking. I have nothing to say to you. I told you I wasn’t going back to Harbor Point, and I meant it. It’s not my fault you didn’t listen.”
I drop my arms, confused as to where all this hostility is coming from. If anyone else spoke to me like this, they’d already have a bullet between their eyes. But my sister isn’t anyone else, and I’m starting to see a pattern with the women in my life. My mom, Peyton, Brielle—all of them are strong and tenacious and not the least bit scared of me.
“Apparently, we have a lot to say.” I walk past her and into the sitting room.
The place is exactly like it was the last time I visited after our grandmother passed away. It’s as if Brielle barely even lives here.
“For starters, why the hell are you so pissed at Matteo and me? You wanted to live here, so we let you go. But, shit, Bri, it’s been over four years. Our grandparents are gone, and you’re all alone here. Don’t you think it’s time to come home?”
It’s taking everything in me not to pick her ass up and haul her out the door, but the businessman in me knows if I can make it seem like it’s her idea, she’ll go easier.
“That place isn’t my home,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I’d rather be alone here than anywhere near you.”
“What the fuck did I do?” I bark, losing my patience.
“Don’t yell at me!”
“Then, stop speaking in goddamn riddles and tell me what your fucking problem is.”
“My problem is that I’ve watched both you and Matteo kill men for something as stupid as speaking to you wrong, yet I was raped, and instead of killing him, you merely cut ties with him and let him go about his merry way. I just don’t fucking understand, Dominick. Make me understand!”
I watch as tears fill Brielle’s eyes and then spill down her cheeks while I try to wrap my head around what the hell she’s talking about.
Raped?“Who the fuck raped you?”
I would know if someone raped her. Nobody does anything in our city without me knowing. Even if I didn’t know, if it somehow got past me, Matteo runs the fucking streets. He would’ve heard something.
“Brielle!” I bark when she doesn’t answer me. “Who fucking raped you?”
Brielle’s eyes go wide. “What do you mean, who raped me? You know?—”
“No, I fucking don’t.” I step toward her, but then stop myself. My heart is beating rapidly, and my blood is boiling in my veins. “Who. The fuck. Raped. You?”
“Anthony,” she whispers. “Anthony raped me. I … I thought you knew.”
“Anthony was here?”
I glance around, as if he could suddenly pop out, even though there’s no way he could possibly know where our grandparents lived. They made sure nobody knew, which was why we let Brielle live with them. We knew she’d be safe.
