Page 60 of Contempt

She refused to look at him. “That’s all you had to do, you know? Make a fucking effort, Ren. Let me know anything.”

“I couldn’t.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“I couldn’t,” he said, harsher the second time.

Her gaze jumped back up to his. “You couldn’t pick up the fucking phone and try?”

“You think that wasn’t constantly on my mind? That you weren’t still the first thing I thought about in the morning, and the last thing at night, Lucia? Because you were—still are. Every fucking day, and every single night.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, but he didn’t even give her the chance to respond before he continued on with, “But I made a deal—one they held me to regardless. One they beat into me constantly. It was bigger than me and you, and yeah, I know it fucking hurts, but some things are bigger than us, babe. They made me something when I was always gonna be nothing. I hate them for a lot of things, but fuck me, I respect them for what they gave me, too. I made a deal—my life for five years, and they didn’t give me a choice but to follow it through.”

Renzo shook his head, muttering, “My calls are monitored. I’m tracked—all the time. Anything that comes in and out from my place is already known before it even gets to me. I’m pretty sure they know the name of the guy that makes my coffee and bagel on Wednesdays. So yeah, the one time I tried to find you … they stepped in. You think Derek was the only thing they did to be cruel? Try seventy-two hours locked in a dark room with no windows, no food, and no contact with anyone. And that?” He barked out a laugh, harsh and fast. “That was an easy punishment, Lucia. That one was fucking cake compared to the others. At least that time, they didn’t send someone in to beat me in the dark every hour on the hour.”

God.

Her heart ached.

She wanted to believe he was just exaggerating, but she could hear it in his voice that he was speaking the truth. She didn’t have to like it, but it was there. She had wanted to know. So there, she now knew.

What could she do with it, though?

She didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t understand, really, because it hadn’t been her in that position. She didn’t know anything about this thing he and her father called The League, or what it meant for Renzo.

“Still hurts,” Lucia whispered. “I can’t make it not hurt, Ren.”

“I know. I’m sorry for that.”

She believed him.

That didn’t help her heart, though.

Taking in a deep breath, Lucia made a choice, then. She stepped back from the door, and widened it a little. A silent invitation for him to come in, if he wanted to do so. She didn’t say a thing one way or another, and let him decide for himself.

She already knew what he would do.

He came in.

Renzo drifted around her hotel room, never touching anything or lingering too long in one spot. Lucia didn’t mind, as it gave her the chance to breathe, and think. Funny how that worked—after all this time, she still found it difficult to gather her thoughts and control her emotions when this man was around.

It was like time had just stopped.

Now, it was moving again.

“My dad said The League trains assassins,” Lucia said.

Renzo’s back stiffened where he was standing in front of the window. Silently, he began to unload the items in his jacket. He set each item onto the small table beside the window. Two guns, three knives, an extra clip of bullets, and a roll of wire. The final things he set to the table were a pair of leather riding gloves. Then, he shrugged off his jacket, and set it on the table, too.

She thought to ask him what in the hell he was doing—did he think he was staying, or something? Because she hadn’t suggested that was going to happen. And yet, she stayed quiet because just like that, she realized, yes, that’s exactly what she wanted.

For him to be here.

With her.

She needed him to stay.

Just … fucking stay with her.