The moment her head broke the surface, she ripped off the mask and threw it into the boat. Casimir’s hands spanned her waist and he nearly tossed her in after her mask. She crawled across the seat, removing the rented tank, and shoved her fist into her mouth, looking at Casimir with stricken eyes.
He took off his tank with slow, deliberate movements she had come to recognize in him. His gaze never left her face. “It’s done, malyshka. These are the last tears I want you to shed for a man who doesn’t deserve them. I know you’re crying for him, not for you. We’ll take the boat back, so you have the time it takes to do that to mourn him. After that, never again.”
She nodded, although she wasn’t certain she could follow his dictate. She understood it. Luigi Abbracciabene, her uncle, was a monster. The man she thought she knew didn’t exist. Casimir wanted her to understand the difference. She could cry for a childhood dream. For herself. For her loss. But he didn’t want her crying for the man, because that man – the one she thought was good – the one she’d loved – didn’t really exist.
She studied Casimir’s set jaw as he guided the boat back toward the resort where she’d spent the last few days. He looked invincible, with wide shoulders and a muscular body. He wore his expressionless mask, something he did often out in public, but rarely did when they were alone.
Casimir despised Luigi, and she knew it wasn’t just because he’d hurt her. Or even put a hit out on her. It had to do with the things he’d found in the warehouse where Cosmos’s wife, Carlotta, had died. He didn’t give her details, he hadn’t wanted her to know. She knew Luigi was involved in prostitution, but it was far worse than that. She didn’t want Casimir to give her specifics. It was hard enough to come to terms with Luigi’s betrayal of her family.
Strangely, Casimir’s wanting to protect her from that about her uncle, when he could easily have used those details any number of times when she’d burst into tears over Luigi’s betrayal of her, made her love Casimir even more. Even now, when the tears ran down her face, he didn’t reprimand her.
Looking at her husband, she realized there was no excuse for what Luigi was. What he’d become. His brother had loved him. She had loved him. His parents loved him. He’d had a good childhood. He hadn’t seen his parents murdered. He hadn’t been ripped apart from his brother. Taken to schools where he and his fellow students were tortured and brutalized to shape them into killing machines. Even Viktor, Casimir’s oldest brother, had a code. He was loyal to his family and that included the others he’d gathered around him from his school.
Luigi had become a monster through jealousy and the need to be able to live his perverted lifestyle, the need for power. He was hungry for others to admire and envy him. He needed the constant subjugation of others to make him feel powerful. She suddenly understood the truth. Even had Luigi ascended to the throne of both families, he wouldn’t have been satisfied. He would still need more.
Casimir sat quietly, guiding the boat toward the resort, keeping a watchful eye on her. Caring for her. That care was genuine. Every word. Every action. He was a man who had suffered and could easily have become a monster, yet he hadn’t.
His eyebrow went up. “What? Golubushka, you cannot look at me like that and not expect a reaction.”
She realized the tears had dried up. Luigi Abbracciabene no longer held any sway over her. The man in that car wasn’t anyone she knew or cared to know. Her uncle had died years ago, far before her father and mother. She had a life, and that life was the man sitting there looking at her as if she was his entire world.
“How am I looking at you?” she challenged.
“With love.” His voice softened along with the hard lines etched deep into his face. “You’re looking at me with love. Stark. Raw. For the world to see.”
“Maybe that’s because I love you like that. Stark. Raw. I don’t care if the world sees it or not as long as you do.”
“We’ve got a train to catch, malyshka,” he said. “We’re going to miss it, you keep looking at me that way.”
“You don’t like it?” she asked.
He flashed her a small grin. “You know better. You’re tempting me on purpose.”
She shook her head. “No, not this time. The truth, my amazing husband, is that I was thinking to myself how extraordinary you are and how lucky I am to have you.”
His features stilled, went to stone. His eyes went liquid, a beautiful molten silver that held everything she’d ever wanted – or needed. Her heart stuttered. Her stomach did a slow somersault. She rubbed her thumb along the center of her palm, watching his face while she did it.