Torture to Her Soul(41)

Good.

Maybe she'll get what she wants from this.

Validation.

She's not the only one who hates me.

There are people out there who hate me even more than she ever could.

She's not capable of the kind of hatred this man brings.

"You're scum," he continues. "You think I'm a bad guy; you think I would taint my food for you, that I would hurt what I love, but that's you, Ignazio. You. Not me. You're the one who ruins everything."

The voice is his, but those words are hers… words Karissa said to me just a few days ago. Do you have to ruin everything?

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a twenty-dollar bill and slams it on the table in front of me, eyes still fixed on my face. "You aren't welcome here, and neither is your blood money. Take it and get out. As far as I'm concerned, you died a long time ago, and I'm glad for it. I won't let you haunt us anymore. I can't look at you, can't look at this demon you've become. You're better off staying dead. God knows you look it right now." He steps back, turning his focus to Karissa. "Run, little girl. Run far away from him."

My eyes follow him as he stalks through the deli, heading straight to the back, disappearing behind a swinging door. I stare at it in silence, taking deep, even breaths to steady myself, willing myself to remain calm, to stay in this seat. Dead silence overtook the deli while he berated me. I'm certain Karissa wasn't the only one who overheard everything he said.

"Naz?" Karissa whispers, her voice shaking. I stare at the still swinging door, contemplating following him back there as I continue to drum my fingers against the table. After a moment, she reaches over, placing her hand on top of mine to still my movements. "Ignazio?"

My gaze shifts from the door to my hand—to her hand, on top of mine, nails painted pale pink, a stark contrast to her soft tanned skin—before I meet her eyes. She looks shell-shocked, a look I've seen time and time again, the look of someone who knows they witnessed something they shouldn't have… the look of someone worried how I'm going to react because of it.

"I'm fine," I say, clearing my throat when my voice catches because I know I certainly don't sound fine. "Are you done eating?"

Her brow furrows as she looks at what's left of her food, like she can't believe I'm even talking about it at a time like this. "Uh, yeah…"

"Are you sure?"

She nods. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"Then let's get out of here."

I pull my hand away and push my chair back, standing up. I smooth my suit coat as I wait for her to get to her feet, not looking at any of the other customers as I lead her toward the exit, leaving the money lying on the table. He can toss it in the fucking trash for all I care. I open the door for her, stepping out behind her, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth at the sound of the bell jingling above me.

"What just happened?" Karissa stops on the sidewalk, right in front of the deli, not moving when I try to get her to. "Who the hell does that guy think he is? Why would he talk to you that way?"

She stares at me, eyebrows raised, awaiting an answer. I'm not sure what she expects me to say. It's pretty self-explanatory, I think.

"I'm not his favorite person."

"Obviously," she says, waving toward the building. "I mean, what's the point in us stopping for something to eat if you can't even eat? Why would we come here? Why would you bring me here, knowing that?"

She's speaking loudly, making just as big of a scene as we endured inside, people walking by glancing between us curiously, wondering why she's yelling like she is.

I step toward her. "You asked me a question."

"I asked you a lot of questions, none of which you ever seem to want to answer unless it's convenient for you."

"Convenient?" Her use of that word rubs me the wrong way. Easy… convenient… why do people think these things aren't a hassle for me? "Do you think that was convenient for me, Karissa? You think I enjoyed being berated in front of all those people, that I got a kick out of having him tear me apart in public like that? Do you think I did that for the fun of it, for the hell of it? Because I didn't. I didn't enjoy a second of it. But you asked a question, you said you want to know me, so I showed you."

"Showed me what?"

"Why I don't see my parents."

The anger in her expression melts as she gapes at me, the wheels in her mind turning fast as she puts together the pieces of why we came to this place. It's all there, it always is, if she'd just fucking open her eyes and pay attention. More is caught than taught. But I don't have it in me right now to stand here patiently, to hang out on this dirty, cracked sidewalk while everyone in the goddamn neighborhood watches, waiting for her to get her shit together.