The Counterfeit Lover (War of Sins Book 3)

Covering his hand with hers, she pushed it aside as she moved in a sitting position. The sheet slid off her body, revealing that odious gown that covered every inch of her—every inch he couldn’t see.

She was all prim and proper, looking at him as if she couldn’t care less about him.

And that pissed the hell out of him.

But he reined it in. He kept a tight leash on all those explosive emotions she awoke inside him. After all, he had a plan—one he’d studied in depth for.

‘Why are you here, Michele? Why are you really here?’ she demanded, her words dripping with skepticism.

‘Why do you think I’m here, pet?’

‘I told you not to call me that anymore.’

‘Why? You liked it before. You loved it.’

She shook her head.

‘You wanted me to love it. I never did.’

He frowned.

Seeing his expression, she snorted.

‘I should have seen it from the beginning, but I was too dumb, wasn’t I? I can count on one hand the times you called me by my name.’

‘That’s not true,’ he interrupted.

‘Of course it’s true,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘From the beginning you called me pet to dissociate. Because I was never human to you, was I? I was never anything but an object you could use and abuse,’ she threw the words at him. Yet her tone remained even. She didn’t scream, she didn’t raise her voice. She handed him every word like an observation.

An erroneous observation.

He pursed his lips. His pet was young. She didn’t know better. But he would enlighten her and show her that what had happened between them was just a momentary slip.

‘Of course you were human to me,’ he smiled. ‘Would you prefer it if I called you by your name? I could do that. But I thought you loved having a term of endearment. Something I used only with you,’ he added in a smooth voice.

‘Only with me?’ she faltered for a moment, blinking.

‘Only with you,’ he confirmed, taking advantage of the opening to move closer. ‘Do you think I would ever use such an intimate term with anyone else?’

She continued to blink, and he realized he’d confused her. Good. That was the first step.

‘Venezia,’ he said her name, felt her name on his tongue for the first time. ‘Zia,’ he then amended, calling her by her nickname—another way to show intimacy. If that was what she wanted, he would give it to her.

But for him she would always be pet—only ever pet.

Her eyes flickered with a foreign emotion as she raised her gaze to meet his.

In one second he was at the edge of the bed, his palm cupping her cheek as his thumb brushed over her lower lip in a tender gesture.

Yes, this was it. He was doing everything as he’d planned. He was being nice, gentle—soft. He was taking his time instead of taking what he truly wanted.

His words seemed to render her speechless, so he took advantage of her silence to continue, beguile her some more with his rehearsed words.

‘You’re the only woman for me, my sweeting. I thought you realized that. I’ve never laid a finger on another. Never,’ he told her emphatically, the words ringing true because they were true—regardless of Michele’s aim in using them.

‘You… haven’t?’ she wet her lips, regarding him with apprehension.

More emotion seemed to enter her features by the moment and he relished the sight of it—the sight of her.

‘You’re the only one,’ he confirmed, bringing her closer to him.

To his surprise, she didn’t put up a fight as she shuffled on her knees to the edge of the bed. He held her tenderly, his palms fitted to her cheeks as he brought his face to hers, closing his eyes and breathing her in.

He recognized the precariousness of the moment so he did everything slowly—almost as if he was a hunter in a meadow, lying in wait for his much awaited deer prize.

He brought his nose to her nose, bumping them close together as he tested the waters. When she didn’t object to that type of touch, he got a little more daring as he skimmed his lips on top of hers.

It was pure torture for him to go so slow. It was a first for him to be so careful with her. Not even with their first kiss had he put in so much effort—so much restraint.

Back then, he’d been equally excited and terrified at the prospect of her touch, so he’d done a mess of things.

Now, he knew exactly what he wanted—how he wanted it.

He parted his lips over hers, and she did the same.

Her hands were by her side, unmoving. But she was reacting to his kiss. She was giving in to him.

Glee erupted in his chest. All his planning was paying off. He was already halfway there. And as he kissed her more deeply, tasting her and bringing her closer to his body—fitting her soft curves to his hard muscles—he knew his patience would pay off.

Weeks of cursed celibacy would come an end on that night and she would give him her sweetness—maybe sweeter than it had ever been.

He trailed his mouth down her jaw, sucking at her skin as he went lower, to her neck where there was still a slight discoloration from the last time he’d marked her, just as there was one on his skin from where she had marked him.

Her breathing intensified as he gave the skin a slow lick, tending to it almost like an apology for the way he’d previously behaved.

Yet it wasn’t enough.

He felt such hunger for her that his restraint was sorely tested, second after second.

His hands went lower, too, tracing the contours of her ribcage without touching her breasts—not yet.

Leaning back for a second, he noted her entranced look and the way the slightest moan escaped her puffy, well-kissed lips.

A wolfish smile appeared on his face. That was all the confirmation he needed.

It had required a little more convincing than he was used to, but it hadn’t been too hard.

Gaining more confidence that she wouldn’t deny him anymore, he lifted the hem of her nightgown, sneaking a hand between her legs and tracing the contour of her panties, right over the top of her mound.

‘No,’ she suddenly said, her hands making contact with his shoulders as she pushed him off her. ‘No,’ she shook her head, watching him warily, emotion battling in those clear eyes of hers.

‘What do you mean no, pet?’ he grit out, his tone harsh before he realized his mistake and he softened his words. ‘You’re my woman, Zia,’ he amended, using her name as she seemed to prefer. ‘Mine,’ he forced a smile on his lips, though he felt least like smiling in that moment.

He was hard, and far too close to the edge.

One kiss was all it took for him to lose his mind and for her to wreak havoc on his goddamn body.

‘I won’t sleep with you,’ she said, her words holding a steely quality to them.

He blinked, flabbergasted. It took everything in him not to burst out and demand what she meant by that. Instead, he forced himself to be calm.

‘What do you mean you won’t sleep with me?’

She lifted her head, pushing her chin up as he’d seen her do before. It was something that both beguiled and confused him.

How could someone so meek come across so strong? So self-assured?

‘Do you think I would ever let you have me again after what you did?’ she asked in a quiet, unflinching voice.

He frowned.

‘So I said a few nasty things,’ he shrugged. ‘You got me at a bad time, pet. But now I’ve reflected and I’m ready to make amends,’ he gave her his signature smile.

She narrowed her eyes at him, not saying anything for a moment.

A moment in which he let his greedy eyes roam over her.

Fuck but even in that simple white gown that reached her neck she looked delectable. Her hair was flowing wildly over her back, her skin illuminated by the moonlight.

She looked like the apparition that always haunted him. Like a goddamn fairy come to mock him for his human failings.

And he wanted her.

Now more than ever, he wanted her. The more she resisted, the more she compelled him.

Just like the time she’d bit him, taking a chunk of flesh out of his neck, he simply felt awe-struck by her and her countenance.

And by Hades, he would have her. If he did nothing else, he would have her.

‘A few nasty things?’ she repeated, her lips stretching into a cruel smile. ‘Is that what you call it?’

‘And what would you call it,’ he shot back, growing more annoyed by the second.

‘Murder,’ she stated. ‘Infanticide. That’s what you did, Michele. You killed your own child in cold blood and you killed my heart with it.’

For a second, he felt at a loss for words as he processed what she was saying. Then, almost like a haze covering his mind, his brain went off at the accusation as it hit one spot deep within him—one deep spot that he’d always hid from the world.

‘Infanticide? Did you have to look that up in a dictionary?’ he drawled mockingly.

She didn’t react.

‘How long did it take you to read the word?’ he smiled. ‘Since you know, you seem to have a problem with that.’

She was quick to mask her expression of hurt, but he saw it, nonetheless.

‘Go ahead,’ she nodded. ‘Insult me,’ she said, stunning him with her sudden stance. ‘Yes, I am dumb. I am stupid and anything else you can think of. I am all of those things, I admit. And I’m the stupidest of all for having fallen for you. For buying your lies. For ignoring every single red flag when you were waving them right in my face. So go ahead. You can call me anything you like. But that doesn’t change the fact that you,’ she raised her voice a notch, poking her finger at his chest, ‘are a murderer. The worst kind of murderer. You took my choice away from me. You took everything!’

Her words filtered through his brain. He could barely hear her. He could only see the woman in front of him like he’d never seen her before.

It thrilled him. It excited him. It fucking enraged him.

‘Do you know how they do it?’ she continued, coming closer. This time it was her who took the initiative, bringing her face next to his as she braved his gaze with hers, a smug smile playing at her lips. ‘They use a forceps and they pull the baby’s body apart. Limb by limb. Body part by body part until there’s nothing left,’ she told him in a cold, chilling voice. ‘And you did that. You ripped your own child apart,’ she accused, raising a brow as if she dared him to object—to defend himself when there was nothing to defend. ‘I bled for days. But you don’t care about that, don’t you? For you I’m just a hole to stick your dick inside, nothing more.’

‘Careful, pet. Careful,’ he warned quietly, his fists clenched by his sides as he barely controlled himself.

She was making a mockery of his self-control and everything he’d set to achieve that night.

She was making a mockery of him. Period. Because no matter how much he held himself still—how much he tried to seem indifferent—her words hit him like a fucking atomic bomb, ripping his insides apart just as he imagined those of their child had been. Now, he had the mental image. And by God… He didn’t think he’d ever get rid of it.

A twitch appeared in his jaw as he met gaze dead on, hiding underneath every reaction that sought to get out.

‘Careful what? Easy for you to speak,’ she laughed, a dry, ironic laugh that grated on his ears. ‘I’ve dreamed of him,’ she continued in a low voice. ‘He came for me, and you know what he told me?’ A slight smile played at her lips.

He didn’t answer, didn’t say anything.

‘He thanked me,’ she shook her head, her smile growing bigger. ‘He thanked me for not letting him be born to a father like you.’

At that, he finally blinked—a small reaction, but one, nonetheless.

That one sentence struck him so hard, he had to hold himself still to not physically reel from the force of it.

‘And that’s why, Michele Guerra,’ she continued to jab her finger at his chest, her eyes never leaving his. ‘You’re dead to me.’

Foreign emotions piled up inside of him until he didn’t know what to do anymore—until he didn’t know how to react. Pushing her off him, he stepped away, voices crowding his mind, echoes of pain—so much fucking pain.

Yet he didn’t let it show.

He kept the same blank expression as he took a step back, even though beneath it all, a war was raging. The worst war of all—the war for his soul.

She was right, one part of him said. She was right to hate him for everything he’d done just as much as he hated himself.

But there was also that other part—the one always in charge; the only one he’d nurtured so far. And that part told him that she was wrong.

He’d done as he’d seen fit, following his plans and keeping himself on track for his revenge. He’d kept himself true to his purpose and that meant that every action he took, as long as it aided his cause, was the right one.

As such, he could never be anything but right. And by default she was wrong.

His mind reeled. It clamored and it rebelled. His entire fucking being bled, yet there were no wounds to show for it.

There was only noise. And pain. And everything he should not be feeling.

He swiveled, his eyes making contact with hers.

She was sitting on her bed, her white cotton nightgown riding up her thighs.

Her face was devoid of emotion—of anything. He remembered the way she’d gaze at him before, as if he could do no wrong—as if he could pluck the moon and the stars and give them to her on a plate. And as he superimposed the two images, he couldn’t find his pet anymore.

He could only see indifference.

And that triggered something within him, something so monstrous he couldn’t leash anymore. He would have her back—her emotion, her adoration, her everything.

Or nothing at all.

So he let go.

He. Let. Go.

In two steps he was in front of her, his hand on her throat.

‘Liar,’ he spat out. ‘You’re a fucking liar, pet.’

Slowly, she blinked, a bored expression on her face—one of utter indifference that was cutting him to the bone.

‘You love me,’ he continued, the words purely for his benefit as he wanted to assure himself of her feelings. ‘You love me,’ he emphasized.

She’d kept the pendant. She’d been gazing at it daily. Of course she must still love him.

But she only laughed.

‘You’re insane,’ she shook her head.

‘I’m insane?’ he asked, his nostrils flaring as he brought her face closer, his hand tightening over the tender skin of her neck. ‘I’m insane, pet? I’ll fucking show you insane,’ he said as he settled between her legs, pulling her to the edge of the bed.

With his other hand, he pushed her gown up, bunching it around her waist, his fingers on the band of her underwear.

His pet then reacted, some type of emotion filling her features.

Finally!

He would get a reaction out of her if it was the last thing he did. He would prove to her that indifference was the last thing she felt for him. That she loved him. That she fucking adored him.

‘Don’t,’ a whispered sound escaped her. Her eyes were wide and big as she regarded him with trepidation.

He only gave her a lopsided smile.

‘Tell me again, pet. Tell me how much you hate me. Tell me I’m dead to you,’ he murmured in a deadly tone.

She grabbed his hand with hers, trying to wrench it away from her panties. But it was in vain as he slapped it aside before pulling on the band—so hard the material snapped in two.

The sound echoed in the darkness of the night, her expression growing to one of terror as she regarded him.

‘Don’t do this, Michele,’ she whispered again.

‘Don’t do what, pet? You’ll have to be more specific,’ he smirked as he removed the last bit of material of her underwear until that part of her body was completely bared to him.

‘Don’t touch me. Don’t….’ her voice broke. Though she was still looking at him, her eyes clear and unyielding, her voice broke.

‘Don’t what?’ he mocked, still holding on to her neck as he used his other hand to undo his pants. ‘Come on. Tell me,’ he chuckled. ‘You were so brave a second ago, telling me how much you hate me. So come on, do tell.’

‘Don’t hurt me,’ she said in a quiet voice, her expressive eyes suddenly down-turned.

Those words… He faltered.

For a moment he faltered.

There was something in her gaze, something he was seeing but wasn’t quite understanding. Something that momentarily stunned him, but that would haunt him for days—years—to come.

‘Tell me you love me,’ he demanded, his hold softening. ‘Tell me how much you love me, pet,’ he murmured the words in a last attempt to show her he could be gentle—that he could be tender. His hand curled around her nape as he held her to him, cradling her close and inhaling her scent.

‘It doesn’t have to be like this,’ he cooed in her ear. ‘Tell me how much you love me pet,’ he coaxed gently.

In his mind, this was the perfect opportunity for his pet to take her mask of indifference off and confess she was as far gone as he was—that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. This was the moment he’d awaited all along when he’d look at her again and see that adoration dripping from her gaze.

Excitement thumped in his blood, his brain fogging with too much desire for him to think rationally. He could only envision the moment his pet would welcome him in her open arms, in her body—in her fucking soul.

He was prepared for it, just as he was anxious for it.

Trailing his lips all over her cheek, he prolonged the anticipation by peppering her with sweet, soft kisses. One hand caressed her thigh as he snuggled deeper between her legs while the other gripped his hard cock as he rubbed it against her center in agonizingly slow motions.

He was doing everything in his power to show her he’d make it good for her, that he’d put in the effort—that he’d be gentle. So he continued to touch her softly, even though she was barely responsive.

And when he reached her lips, he laid a quick peck on her mouth before drawing back, ready to see the change in her features—ready to receive those words that had the power to save him.

Instead, the image stunned him.

She was utterly still, her icy glare cutting him on the inside.

‘I don’t love you,’ she enunciated clearly, her expression stoic, hard, apathetic. ‘I should have never loved you,’ she declared, with one sentence shattering what was left of his heart, of his control, of everything that held him together.

In the beginning, there was only shock. But in a matter of seconds his armor was up.

Used to a life of disappointment, Michele’s defense mechanisms had become one with himself. And she’d just thrown at him the biggest blow, so of course he’d erect the thickest shield.

Before, she’d made him feel human. Now, she took away the one thing that defined him as such.

His lips twitched. Slowly, they spread into a dangerous smile.

‘Too bad, pet,’ he drawled. ‘Too, too bad,’ he rasped before he savagely thrust into her.

She gasped, her lips forming an o as her eyes widened, her hands coming on his shoulders to push him off. Yet before she could do that, something switched inside of her—in her expression, in her entire countenance.

Her hands fell to the sides, just as her body became limp in his arms.

Cupping her ass, his fingers dug into her flesh as he brought her down his length until he was buried to the hilt inside of her.

She didn’t make a sound.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t yell. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even fucking whimper in pain.

Her expression was just as before. Indifferent. Apathetic.

Nonexistent.

It was so bad even the feel of being inside of her didn’t help—though he’d been anticipating it for weeks. Suddenly, there was no joy to be had in anything.

And so he could have stopped. He could have backed away and left her alone.

But he didn’t. He was too far gone to do anything but march forward.

‘You’re mine, pet,’ he sneered. ‘Hate me, abhor me, fucking despise me,’ he told her in a harsh voice, an echo of those long ago words. ‘But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re mine, and you’ll continue to be mine.’

Were those proclamations for his benefit, or hers?

But to show her that he didn’t lose—that he couldn’t possibly ever lose—he didn’t stop.

He started moving in and out of her, increasing his speed and the power of his thrusts.

She was hot, but lifeless.

She warmed his cock but she killed his heart.

And that only made him angrier—more out of control.

‘Hate me,’ he demanded. At this point he’d take anything, but at least he wanted something—some emotion.

She only looked at him as if she wasn’t seeing him. Leaning back on her bed, she let him use her, not even bothering to put up a fight.

The only indication that something was happening were the inevitable tears that clung to her lashes and his incoherent grunts as he sought to punish her with his cock.

Yet the more he saw her inactive like that, unresponsive, the more his own rage increased, as did the power of his assault.

He fucked into her all the pain in his heart. In return, she only gave him more pain, more…heartache.

‘Damn you,’ he shouted, grabbing her by the neck and shaking her. ‘Damn you,’ he repeated, both hands wrapped around her lovely throat as he continued to thrust into her.

Still, she said nothing.

‘You’re mine. You hear me, pet? You fucking hear me, Venezia?’

The last question made her blink. But she didn’t respond.

‘Fuck,’ he cursed in frustration.

No matter how hard, how rough or how wild he took her, he couldn’t get any response out of her.

Nothing.

It was like he was truly fucking a lifeless doll.

A couple more thrusts and he came inside of her, yet the end was more bitter than he’d ever experienced.

So bitter, in fact, that he felt bile rise up his throat, threatening to make him ill.

He couldn’t look at her anymore. He couldn’t stand to touch her anymore.

On a harsh breath, he flung her from him, withdrawing from her body and zipping his pants back up.

Half-turning, he didn’t trust himself to gaze into her eyes again. So he merely left her with one last warning.

‘This isn’t over, pet,’ he said in a barely controlled voice. ‘I’m coming for you. And when I do…I’m never letting you go.’

The bedroom door closed with a thud.

Venezia started counting in a low, tremolos voice.

One. Two. Three…

Only when she reached one hundred did she allow herself to move, swinging herself off the bed and falling to her knees as her legs gave out.

A harsh breath escaped her.

Something was wrong. Something was awfully, awfully wrong.

With strength she didn’t know she possessed, she managed to get herself to the bathroom, flicking the light on and squinting as her eyes accommodated to the sudden brightness.

Closing the door behind her, she locked it for good measure before she gripped the hem of her dress, taking it off and flinging it to the side, avoiding to look at the red stained material.

Something was wrong…

There was pain. So much pain radiating from between her legs that she didn’t know how she had withstood it all—how she hadn’t started bawling the moment he’d entered her, almost tearing her apart in the process. She’d been entirely dry when he’d breached her, despite the lingering sweetness of that first kiss. Factor in Michele’s size and his daunting girth and he’d simply split her in two.

Every thrust after the first had been more and more vicious, the pain reaching such a crescendo she thought she’d almost pass out from it.

But she hadn’t. She couldn’t allow herself to do that and show weakness. Because that was the only way to deal with Michele.

To not show weakness.

She limped to the toilet, taking a seat as she tried to calm herself down. With a trembling hand, she made the courage to reach between her legs, touching the tender spot and winching out loud at the sensation.

By God, she felt like howling in pain.

Yet just as she suspected, something was wrong.

Her entire palm came out covered in blood, and at the sight of it, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She started sobbing, broken cries echoing in the bathroom.

Her lashes misted with tears, she managed to roll some toilet paper and soak some of the blood, even though every little touch was extremely painful.

Yet even as she wiped once, twice, the blood still wouldn’t stop.

Too scared to do anything else, she jumped in the shower, washing herself thoroughly in an attempt to remove every little trace of him from her body.

But it was all in vain.

He was everywhere.

On her body. Inside her body. Inside her mind. Haunting her thoughts.

He was absolutely everywhere.

Including part of the baby she was still carrying. That only made her terror increase tenfold as she wondered if his brutal treatment of her would have had any bearing on the baby.

She was sure he’d hurt her down there given the throbbing pain and the bleeding that wouldn’t stop. But was that enough to hurt the baby, too?

She didn’t know…

In that moment she wished she was smarter, more knowledgeable. Maybe then she would know how to deal with this.

Maybe then…

Maybe then she would have never fallen for someone as vile as Michele.

But she wasn’t. And now she was dealing with the dire consequences.