Page 46 of Sins of the Son

“Who cares? The damage is done. I can’t go back there! No matter how good of a job I did, they would always put an asterisk after it. Milana Carbone fucked her way to the top. Sins of the mother and all that.” I threw my hands up. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I was leaving this place after a week, anyway. And now I’m just plain leaving.”

My plan had been to transfer to the Rome office, but that was sunk after what had just happened. And I certainly wasn’t taking a freaking cent from him now. I didn’t give a hot damn if I was cutting off my nose to spite my face. Our stupidly foolish and dangerous deal was off. I had my pride.

I covered my eyes with my hand. “You can’t expect me to stay after this. I will be humiliated throughout the entire village. The very thing I had tried to avoid seven years ago is happening anyway,” I cried.

It’s like I’m caught in my own traumatic nightmare, but I’m awake.

And just like seven years ago, Cesare Cavalieri is to blame.

The walls wobbled and weaved as everything went out of focus for a second. I pressed my hand over my heart as if that would stop the overly rapid beating which was making my head swim. My chest tightened as I struggled to expand my lungs.

Cesare placed his hands on either side of my face. He stared deeply into my eyes. “Milana, baby, focus on me. Focus on my voice.”

I blinked as the edges of my vision darkened. “You betrayed me. Again,” I whispered. “You got what you wanted in the end.”

Fuck, I hated this.

The lack of control.

The vulnerability.

I didn’t like anyone seeing me like this, let alone Cesare. The more upset I became, the more the room spun. I felt like I was rolling down the side of a hill. Everything was just becoming a flashing, chaotic blur of color and lights. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it only made things worse as a wave of dizziness made my body sway.

His powerful arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me tight against him, his other warm hand staying on my cheek. “Milana, eyes on me. Listen to my voice, babygirl. Focus on me.”

Obeying his command, I opened my eyes and zeroed in on the dark intensity of his gaze.

The authority in his voice.

The touch of his hand.

The strength of his embrace.

It was all like an anchor in a storm.

The panic receded.

I sagged in his arms, feeling lightheaded. He picked me up and carried me over to the sofa. He sat me down and crossed to the other side of the room. I hated how cold and lost I felt without the warmth of his arms. He quickly returned. Lifting me onto his lap, he cradled me like a child.

Feeling as foolish as a child for my panic attack, I closed my eyes and tried to bury my face in his shoulder.

He nudged my head. “Open your lips.”

I opened my eyes instead.

He was holding a bottle of amber liquor up to my mouth.

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want that.”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted it.”

“You never do,” I grumbled.

“You’re just begging for my belt again, aren’t you, little one?”

Giving him a deliberate pout first, I opened my lips. He poured some of the fiery liquor in my mouth. It hit the back of my throat and I coughed and choked.

He took a long swig himself and then held it up to my mouth again. “Another sip.”

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