Page 42 of The Convenient Cosentino Wife

“The part where you said you struggled with Marius’s and my relationship because you had feelings for me.” She knotted her hands in her lap, her heart thudding hard. “At least, that’s what it sounded like you said.”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“And you were cold to me because you were trying to remain indifferent to me?”

He nodded once.

Clare’s heart hammered and she tried to remain calm, but she was shocked by his admission, shocked that he’d had such strong feelings for her all those years ago. “So the real reason you didn’t want Marius to marry me wasn’t that you didn’t like me,” she said after a moment, nails digging into her palms. “It was because you were jealous of him. You wanted me for...yourself.”

Rocco’s dark head inclined and, horrified, she felt her heart plummet.

What was happening? How could this be real? And if it was true, why was he telling her now? His honesty wasn’t to be admired, the truth coming too late. It was all a lie. It was all a big game. She struggled to take it all in, but couldn’t, her mind shying away from the facts he’d so calmly laid out, like playing cards onto a table.

“So this was never about Adriano,” she whispered, feeling physically ill. “This wasn’t about Adriano in any way. It was just your weird possessive need to have me.”

Rocco didn’t speak and Clare felt her heart break. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real.

“I trusted you,” she whispered, unable to look at him, unable to let him see how much he’d hurt her, crushing her dreams, smashing her love and faith in him. Their relationship was still so new, but it had been beautiful, and so full of light and warmth, happiness and hope, and now it was all gone.

“I beg your forgiveness. I am determined to earn your trust again,” he said.

“No.” She rose and, shaking her head, looked at him and then away, too stunned, too much in pain. “No more words. No more anything. I need to be alone. I can’t think with you here.”

Clare fled to a distant wing of the palazzo, pacing the long sculpture gallery where the walls were lined with framed canvases by centuries of Italy’s greatest artists. It was cold in the gallery, but she walked quickly, feeling trapped and panicked. Her pulse was racing and her hands were shaking and she felt on the verge of losing the last shred of control.

She’d come to the gallery because she couldn’t go to her bedroom, not when she shared it with Rocco. She couldn’t go anywhere close to the nursery because she couldn’t let Ava see her, and certainly not Adriano. She had to protect him from the upheaval. He was so young and so trusting. He needed protection, protection from people—men—who lied and deceived, men who had to win at all costs.

She knew about those men. She’d been raised by one. Her father always had to win, and he’d do whatever it took to have the upper hand.

And to think she’d married one!

Legs trembling, Clare turned at the end of the long gallery and passed pedestals with marble busts, walking between tall marble statues. She was chilled through, and yet fire raged within her, fire burning her heart while on the outside she shivered, teeth chattering.

He’d betrayed her. He’d used Adriano to get to her. Rocco used a child,herchild—

“Whatever you’re doing, whatever you’re thinking isn’t helping.” Rocco’s low hard voice came from the end of the gallery. “Stop, please. You’re making it worse.”

“I’m making this worse?” she choked, anger lashing through her as she spun to face him. “How dare you? How dare you turn this around! My anger isn’t about what I did. This is about you, and what you did.”

“I didn’t want to love you. I didn’t want to want you—”

“You were a man, not a prepubescent boy.”

“Agreed.Cara, I was confounded by my attraction. I am a disciplined man and you were not mine. I shouldn’t have been drawn to you. I shouldn’t have wanted you, but I did. Don’t think I liked feeling that way about you. I tried to create a wall so that I could be detached, but in creating a wall, and creating detachment, Marius took offense. He didn’t understand why I couldn’t be near you, he couldn’t understand why I wasn’t more receptive of you, and I couldn’t tell him that I was jealous. That I wanted his woman. What kind of brother is so disloyal? I hated myself, and in trying to contain my feelings—”

“You hated me.”

“No,” Rocco’s voice dropped, low, full of pain. “I never hated you. It was Marius I was upset with, Marius for being so lucky to have not just a woman like you, but you.”

“That’s even worse. Marius was so loving and accepting. He thought you were the greatest man alive. Did he know how you felt about me?”

“No.”

“Thank God,” she choked. “At least he never knew the truth about you. At least he died thinking you were still the wonderful Rocco Cosentino.”

“I loved my brother, and I would have protected him with my life—”

“You’re sure you didn’t spook the horse that day? Or perhaps you wished him dead?”

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