Page 78 of The Arrangement

Their car ride home had been so unbearably tense that Anton eventually yanked the car over on the freeway and whispered the apology he had been wanting to give her the movement she walked back into his life.

Again, Viviana said nothing.

She wouldn’t even look at him; wouldn’t grace him with the knowing that she had simply heard him speak. Her shaking hands had stayed limp in her lap as she watched cars blink by their stopped vehicle on the roadway.

Frustration had overtaken his pain in that moment and he had grasped her jaw roughly, turning her head to look at him. Just the tears that streaked over her cheeks at his handling should have told him more than enough, but Anton just couldn’t not. That beating organ inside his chest was ripping apart.

Convulsive swallows followed his action before she looked on past him, refusing to meet his gaze. More tears slipped down her trembling cheeks. All he wanted—needed—for her to do was just say something.

“Goddamn it, won’t you even look at me?” he had shouted.

Nothing.

“Viviana…please.”

Silence.

A freight truck passed them at an alarming speed, causing the Mercedes to rock.

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t say you didn’t know, Anton.”

The words hadn’t even been a whisper, but more like painful, stinging air that forced its way out from her center cavity. There was a heavy exhale that rattled from her chest, and he mimicked the action. Even the words she spoke felt riddled with pain and grief.

Oh, God, she hurt, too. He did that.

“Let me explain, that’s all I’m asking.”

“Please remove your hand.”

“Vine…”

“Now.”

When Anton noticed the blooming red forming around the spots where his fingertips were digging into her beautiful skin, he was quick to release his hold. Shame bit at his heels. Again, he rushed to apologize but she was already turning away like it didn’t make a difference. Those switches he was so good at controlling were suddenly taking over him in the worst way.

And so, they ended up back at the safe house.

Without a word she walked past the three waiting bulls and Clarissa. Viviana reached down to graze over the tips of her pup’s twitching ears; he was quick to trot behind when she left their space. The panel on the wall beeped with the indication that she had disappeared to the second level of the three-floor building. Anton didn’t know what else to do but let her go.

Rory had been the first to ask, “Is she going to be okay, Boss?”

How was he supposed to answer?

Clarissa’s quiet voice, the one they rarely heard, was the only one to speak up. “If I understand what happened correctly, I believe she will, but it’s a hard thing to learn who you thought you were, isn’t really the person you are.”

Anton’s eyes flitted to the maid’s, trying so damned hard to keep the rising tears at bay. “What do I do?”

“You give her time,” Clarissa replied, smiling sadly. “You let her breathe. You hold her hand. You apologize. And I know you may not understand, but you forgive. Her. Them. Yourself. It’s been many years, and you’ve had a great deal of time to absorb all of this.”

“I know,” he said faintly.

“It is all on her, Anton, to learn that blood doesn’t make the person. Nicoli understood that when he made the choice to let her grow up with a different man as her father, because she would always be his, even if she wouldn’t think the same, no matter where she lived. Just like you not sharing his blood didn’t make you any less important or loved, because you were.”

Another splintering crack settled somewhere deep inside.

Anton flinched. “Rocco, ostanovit.”