Page 47 of Sins of the Son

“It burns.”

“Good. Another sip.”

“I really hate you.”

“We’ve already established that. Open your mouth.”

I obeyed, and he tilted the bottle, forcing more of the horrible liquor down my throat.

As much as I hated the fiery taste, it did warm my stomach and chase away the cold, shaky, clammy sensation.

He set the bottle aside and rubbed my back in slow, soothing circles. After several minutes, he stroked my hair. “Feel better?”

I nodded.

“Good. It’s time to go.”

I rose and took the hand he held out. As we left his office, I expected him to turn to the right toward the hidden back stairs. Instead, he turned left toward the main stairs that led to the third-floor offices. “Wait. We need to go right.”

He pulled me along, grasping my hand. “No, we’re going left.”

“But that leads downstairs to the main office.”

He glanced at me over his shoulder. “I know,” he growled.

CHAPTER 17

CESARE

I knew.

I finally knew.

I didn’t know all the details, and I was sure there was way more to the story, but I knew the start.

I didn’t know who was responsible. Yet. But I would.

At least I finally knew what had turned her against me seven years ago.

How could I have been so fucking blind?

I had always known how sensitive Milana was about her mother’s terrible reputation. Some piece of shit must have found out I was planning on making Milana my girlfriend back when we were seventeen and got to her first.

They are gossiping about how Milana Carbone is just like her whore of a mother.

I’m just a gold digger hoping to land a rich Cavalieri son.

Just like they were saying back in school.

I will be humiliated throughout the entire village.

The very thing I had tried to avoid seven years ago is happening anyway.

While part of me was surprised such stupid gossip would cause a strong woman like Milana such trauma that even years later it still gave her night terrors, I had to be careful not to judge. Even back as an idiot teenager, I was aware her grandmother had made her home life hell because of the choices her mother made.

Not unlike my own life had been made difficult because of the rumors claiming my father murdered my mother. It was one reason why we had become friends in the first place. Two people bonded by the scandals of their parents. All that, plus her grandmother's viciousness and my perceived betrayal and rejection, had somehow gotten twisted into one traumatic event in her mind.

Still, it made little sense.

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