Raw Bloody Power

Chapter 40

40

DO YOU TRUST ME?

Rio

“Ivory? Hello?” I shake her in my lap, noting the way her eyes refocus, pupils fully blown, as if she’d been caught in some sort of trance. “You good?”

She scrambles onto her feet, regarding me like I’ve either sprouted an extra limb or lost my goddamn mind. “You want to get married?” she scoffs incredulously. “Are you insane?”

On any other day, I might respond with a yes. Insane and impetuous go hand in hand, after all. However, the current state of our reality has me short on patience, and before I can school my expression, much less choose my words carefully, I’m popping off like a loose cannon. “Is the thought of marrying me repulsive or some shit?”

Ivory groans in an equally flustered state and runs her hands through her hair, the flared bottoms of her pants rippling with each step. “No, Rio, it’s not repulsive. It’s just…”

“It’s just what?” I carp back.

“It’s too soon, that’s what! We just got back together five-fucking-seconds ago after an eleven-year break up!” she bellows, throwing her arms out uninhibitedly. “How are you so sure it’s gonna last this time?”

“Because in the time we were apart, I didn’t commit to anyone. I didn’t want to be committed to anyone. Everything was strings-free, temporary, meaningless.” Rising from my place on the floor, I eat up the small space between us and scoop her face in my hands, needing her to look me dead in the eye as I lay myself bare—with my brother as a fucking audience, no less. “You’re the only woman who makes me actually want meaningful, Ivory. You’re the only woman who I can envision forever with. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

Those pretty amber eyes bounce back and forth between mine. She believes me, or at least she wants to, but suddenly it feels like there’s an invisible wall of uncertainty between us.

“Do you really, though?” Her rebuttal borders a whisper. “Because if that were true, you wouldn’t have let Jonathan break us up in the first place. You didn’t love me enough to trust me. You just discarded me like I meant absolutely nothing. And in case you haven’t realized this yet…” She pulls herself free from my embrace and takes a step back. “Marriage requires a hell of a lot of trust. How am I supposed to trust you won’t do the same thing again? That you won’t discard me the first time we hit a bump in the road, and shit gets hard?”

“News flash—we’ve already hit a bump in the road. Benedikt is a huge fucking problem, and I’m still here! We aren’t kids anymore, Ivory. We aren’t so easily swayed or influenced. This is why I refuse to discuss Jonathan. It’s not relevant to the current day.”

“Not relevant to the current day?” Ivory’s face contorts in disbelief, a clear warning she’s about to lose her entire shit. “Are you serious right now? Jonathan destroyed us, Rio, in a matter of minutes! He assaulted me, then turned around and fabricated some bullshit story that manipulated you into believing?—”

“Hold the fuck up,” I interject on a growl, the entire world around us skidding to a full stop . “What do you mean he assaulted you?”

“Assaulted, as in he was literal seconds away from raping me,” she stresses. “I know you think you walked in on me and him fucking and that I was thoroughly enjoying myself, but I can safely—and confidently—swear on my life none of that was remotely enjoyable.”

Rape.

That’s what my brain hyper-focuses on, latching onto my psyche like talons tearing into flesh. I’m too incapacitated by the revelation to move, to speak. I stand there absentmindedly, reluctantly going through the chain of events and what was said after I threw the bastard into the wall.

He tried to rape her…

“I remember Jonathan. He was a fucking dick. I couldn’t stand him,” Alvaro says in wake of my silence as he picks up the armchair and takes a seat. “If you don’t mind me asking, and please feel free to tell me to fuck off—how’d he get you alone?”

Normally, I’d hate the fact he’s meddling and inserting himself into a conversation that’s none of his business. But as the rage festering inside threatens to get the best of me, I’m grateful for his presence while I try to process everything coming to light. Alvaro’s always been the level-headed one, wise beyond his years with the patience of a saint.

He’s also the only one of my brothers, despite being three years younger than me, who’s ever been able to keep me calm.

“He fooled me into thinking he was Rio,” Ivory mutters in nothing short of disgust, hands balling into fists as she begins pacing anew. “The music was always so loud when he threw those parties, multiple speakers placed around the property to evenly distribute the sound no matter where you were. Worked to his advantage because he snuck up behind me while I was in the office of the guest house, combing through his mom’s books, and slipped a hand over my eyes. He didn’t say anything, just directed me into the bedroom. I literally had no reason to think it wasn’t Rio…until he closed the door and released me.”

“He cornered you,” my brother surmises, to which Ivory nods.

“Very much so. The things he said as he pushed me onto the bed…I can still hear them loud and clear.”

“Tell me.” I finally find my voice, not entirely sure I want to hear what comes next but needing to regardless. “Tell me everything.”

Ivory roots herself to the spot and cocks her head to one side, crossing her arms over her cream-colored blouse. “Oh, so now you want to talk about it, huh?”

My jaw tics uncomfortably. No, I don’t want to, but after what she’s revealed…I have to know.

When I don’t reply, she goes on to divulge everything in fifteen minutes of pure and utter hell where I almost grind my teeth to nubs. The more she shares, the more I want to storm out of the penthouse, take the rooftop access, and jump off the building. How did I not see through Jonathan’s story from the jump?

How did I not see it came from a place of jealousy? How did I not realize that, after everything he helped me put her through, he wasn’t above hurting her?

Touching her.

Ignoring the word no and all it stands for.

As the years went on and we got older, I questioned the events of that night until my knuckles split open from slamming them into the wall—on more than one occasion. I questioned him. I questioned her. I questioned myself. None of it made sense anymore, all of the details blurring together while simultaneously disappearing into the depths of the past, and I didn’t know what to believe.

Who to believe.

The only thing clear as day was regret, and now I know why—because deep down in my core, all the parts of me that loved her with everything I was knew she was never to blame, that I’d acted out of pocket and allowed my temper to dictate my actions.

And I…

“I fucked up.” I say it more to myself than anyone else.

The past eleven years, everything she and I had to endure, are on me. Not her or Jonathan.

Me.

I did this to us, then turned around and punished her for it—not once in our lives, but twice. Of course she wouldn’t want to get married.

How could she even forgive me?

“Why would you still want to be with me?” Again, I utter the question to myself as I drop to the chair beside Alvaro’s, hanging my head in my hands.

“Because I love you—even when you hurt me,” she states, surety ringing in her voice. “Trust me when I tell you I’ve tried not to, but the heart wants what it wants, Rio. We don’t get to choose who we love.”

“I’m gonna give you two some privacy,” Alvaro says, rising from his seat.

When the balcony door closes behind him, Ivory makes her way over to me and drops to her knees between my legs. I can’t bear looking at her, a plethora of emotions tearing through me at once. I’m enraged, knowing what really happened over a decade ago, ashamed at myself for letting it happen, and drowning in more remorse than I have in my entire life.

“Crow, look at me,” she demands gently, compelling me to relent as she sets her forehead to mine. “I love you, do you hear me? ”

“How? Why?” I squeeze my eyes shut all over again. It’s a hard thing to hear, no matter how badly I want to hear it. “ I hurt you, Ivory.”

“You did, yes. Losing you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to endure. It’s right up there with losing my grandma. I cried myself to sleep for months after, praying you’d eventually have an epiphany, and the Universe would bring you back to me. Took me years to even look at another man. That day in my dorm?” Her laugh comes so quietly, I’m not sure it’s even an actual laugh. “I genuinely thought the time had come. I was so thrown to see you but so hopeful, too.”

Then I ruined that, too. And for what? All that fucking strife and fighting for what? All those threats for what? Telling her not to come back wasn’t because of Jonathan. It was because of me. Because I couldn’t deal with possibly seeing her. I couldn’t deal with the reminder of what we were and how we could never be again.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, inhaling a fortifying breath. “I know they’re just words, and they’ll never be enough for all I’ve put you thr?—”

“Stop. Stop it right now.” She’s pushing me back into the chair, gingerly climbing her way into my lap. “I don’t want apologies, Rio. I just want you. I want to know that while we have to deal with Benedikt you’re not going to?— ”

“You have me,” I vow. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good, ’cause he won’t be around forever. I’m not sure how I’m going to get myself out of this just yet, but we’ll figure it out. ”

“I already offered a solution to that. I kill him like I should’ve the other night—end of story.”

Ivory rocks her head side to side, fingers tenderly running over the bandages wrapped around me. “I’m not letting you put yourself in any more unnecessary danger. We’ll figure something else out.”

“Fastest and easiest way,” I defend, but again she shuts that down.

“Still no.”

“Ivory…” I’m glowering, I know I am, and still, it doesn’t rattle her resolve.

“Grit your teeth at me all you want, Guerra. I don’t give a fuck. The answer is no. If we have any hope of keeping the peace between our families when they learn the truth, I can’t have you wearing your ‘I Killed Benedikt Koshka’ T-shirt.”

Pulling her flush against me, I bite back the pain that lances through me as she lies against my wounds and—unwillingly—give up my cause. “You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” She shrugs and brings her lips a breath from mine. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” I whisper.

“Then we’re doing it my way. Get over it.”