33

Veronica

The next morning when I woke, Stefan was gone. I wondered if he slept, how many hours he slept. Last night, after making love to me—and he had made love to me—he'd washed me so tenderly, so carefully, it surprised me. Although maybe it shouldn't have. Maybe duality was the norm with him. Maybe knowing he had a capacity to be tender would make a difference, would make tolerating him when he was terrible bearable. Because I also knew he would be terrible.

Or maybe that knowledge would only make those moments that much harder.

After the night in Civitella in Val di Chiana, I didn't know how I'd be able to go through with the wedding. The wedding night. But then he'd told me why. My grandfather had used Robyn like a pawn. He'd seen a window, my weakness, and had used it against Stefan.

I needed to talk to my grandfather. I needed to confront him and hear from him his side of the story, about the stealing, about his agreement with Stefan. But I wasn't fool enough to think he'd tel