Page 65 of Tainted Obsession 1
“No!” My reply is immediate and vehement, drawn from my soul before I fully mull it over. “It’s just… I have a hard time accepting these gifts from you. They make me uncomfortable.”
Some of the darkness ebbs from his eyes, and he places the jewelry box back on the nightstand without closing it. The diamonds continue to wink at me, taunting me. I keep my attention on him.
He steps toward me, closing the small distance I’ve created between us. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb hooking beneath my jaw to capture my face in his gentle grip.
“Who made you feel unworthy?” Despite the careful way he handles me, his voice is rough with anger.
I draw in a shuddering breath. How does he see me so clearly?
I spent years with George, and he never asked about my stepfather’s financial abuse.
An awful realization buds at the back of my mind. George never commented on it, but I told him about my childhood. And once we graduated college and started working, he made subtle comments about our contributions to the budget. He had the final say on how we spent our funds because he earned more than I did.
My eyes sting as another layer of his betrayal dawns on me. He took one of my most vulnerable secrets and used it against me. He knew that I feared taking more than I earned, and he leveraged that to curtail my financial choices.
Massimo brushes a tear from my cheek before it falls. His muscles ripple with the force of his suppressed rage.
“Who are these tears for?” he demands.
I swallow against the lump in my throat. I owe him an explanation. Massimo is hurt by my implication that he’s giving me gifts to control me. He’s a proud man, and he’s clawed his way up from nothing. He’s quite literally fought for every penny, and now he’s wealthy.
He might be able to see into my soul, but I see into his as well. He wants to show off that wealth because it means power.
Untouchable.Everything he’s ever done has been to ensure his safety and security. Signs of his wealth adorning me will provide me with security as well. No one will dare to touch me if they know I’m with Massimo.
“My stepfather was well-off.” I begin my admission quietly. “Not rich, but he had a job that paid well enough to keep our family in a nice neighborhood. We took a vacation once a year, and he sent my stepsister, Rachel, and me to private school.”
Massimo’s features pinch with puzzlement. “I’m not trying to replace your father.”
“He’s not my father,” I snap, the old wound causing me to lash out.
I take a breath to calm myself and continue. “My biological father left when I was four. I barely remember him.”
The few memories I have—ice cream and playgrounds and birthday cake—further muddle my complicated feelings about the man who abandoned me as a child and never looked back.
“My mother struggled to support us.” I press on. “She worked two jobs waiting tables to keep a roof over our heads and some food on the table. She resented the burden of another mouth to feed, and she blamed me for my father leaving us. She said I was a difficult child, and that was why he didn’t stay.”
Massimo’s jaw ticks, and he strokes my hair, silently urging me to continue despite his mounting anger.
“When I was nine, she met my stepfather. She hid the fact of my existence from him until they were engaged.”
I spent so many nights alone in our ramshackle apartment, making my own crude dinners and tucking myself into bed. She claimed she was dating him to help us escape poverty, and I couldn’t complain about that.
I learned at a young age never to complain. If I make myself small and quiet, no one will get upset with me. I won’t be rebuked if I don’t cause any trouble.
“You said you have a stepsister,” Massimo gently prompts. “He already had a child of his own. Why would your mother need to hide your existence?”
I shrug. “She didn’t want to scare my stepfather off with the burden of another child. By the time they were engaged, they were committed enough for her to introduce us. They married, and we moved into a big house as a new family. My mother doted on Rachel, treating her as her own daughter. My stepfather didn’t feel the same about me. He never wanted me; I was baggage from my mom’s past relationship.”
Over time, Rachel becametheirdaughter. I was set apart, a pariah in my childhood home.
“He was a fool,” Massimo growls. “Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life.”
Another tear spills over, scouring my cheek in a cathartic burn as I release some of the pain that I’ve carried deep inside me for years.
“Thank you for saying that.” My voice is thick with emotion, and I lean into his hand for comfort.
His jaw firms. “I’m saying it because it’s true. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way, Evelyn. You deserve to be cherished.”
