To Love A Monster のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

NicholasValentina’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. She opens her mouth, closes it again, then shifts her position to sit at the edge of the bed facing me.“What did you just say?”“You heard me. You can’t marry that bastard if you’re already married to me.” Saying it again gives the idea legs. It’s the only way to keep her safe from them. I have no doubt if they could get their hands on her, they’d do exactly what I will do tomorrow morning.But if I’m being honest, keeping her from the Riccis is not my only motivation. I’ve known Valentina a long time. Well, it’s not so much that I’ve known her, but I’ve watched her grow up. When she was a kid, I felt protective of her. I still do feel very protective, but that’s shifted as she’s grown into a woman. That sense to protect has morphed into something else, something darker, baser, and more carnal.I want her. I’ve wanted her for a long time, and not because she was Cielo’s. My reason is much simpler. Valentina is for me. In some

ValentinaI stare at the closed door after Nicholas leaves. The room feels suddenly chillier, and I hug my arms to myself. The log in the wood-burning stove glows red and I go to it, taking another from the basket and setting it onto the fire. I close the door and stand back to watch as it catches, and I can’t help but think about my house, consumed like this log.Closing my eyes, I shake my head and force myself to draw a deep breath in. It’s time to face the future and stop trying to make sense of a past that doesn’t make sense.I walk into the small bathroom and close the door behind me. It’s cooler in here. There doesn’t seem to be central heating. I shudder, sit on the edge of the tub, and turn the tap, not sure how much hot water I’ll get but letting it fill up the tub as I glance at my reflection. I look a wreck. Hell, I am a wreck.The glasses, though, are kind of nice. Big, like I like them. I know how much the lenses cost with my particular prescription, but as soon as the a

NicholasValentina shudders at my words. She takes a step away, then turns, looks up at me and, panic in her wide eyes, runs.I catch her arm, tug her to me. Her breath is ragged, and her pulse throbs at her throat. I can almost hear the blood pounding against her ears. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.Never taking my eyes from Valentina, I motion over her head to Lourdes and Father Emiliano. They make some excuse about having forgotten something at the cabin and hurry out, leaving us alone in the chapel.“Tell me.” I lean my face closer to hers. “Is it still not real?”She sets her hands flat against my chest as she tries to free herself. “Let me go.”I can’t because the game has changed. The stakes have grown significantly higher. Nigella’s call was to tell me that Russo was attacked in prison last night.I consider how much to tell Valentina, how to tell her that an inmate stabbed her father in the gut with a shiv. According to Nigella’s sources, the wound would

ValentinaMy mind whirls. My father was attacked. Why and by whom?A sound comes in the distance. It grows louder. A helicopter. I glance up at Nicholas. Could it be the police here for him? And if it is, how do I feel about it? Probably not how I should feel."Do you, Nicholas, take Valentina, to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, to honor her all the days of your life?" Father Emiliano asks.I notice one word is missing.Love.He isn't promising to love me. What he told me earlier, that he'll marry for love, why did he say that? Why say it at all?"I do," Nicholas says.Father Emiliano turns to me and repeats the question. I don't look at Nicholas when I nod and mumble my I do."Now that you have committed yourselves to one another, I pronounce you husband and wife. That which God has brought together let no man put asunder. You may kiss the bride."I look up at Nicholas, and Nicholas looks down at me, but in this mom

NicholasOnce I’m alone, Hamish comes into the living room.“This the box you wanted?” he asks. I’d asked him to bring the small wooden box with him from the house in Atlanta.I take it, remembering it from when I was little. My mother had kept her few valuables inside it.“That’s it. Thanks for getting it.”He nods and leaves me to it. I open the box, and the first thing I do is take the feather out of my pocket, the one that landed at my feet as Valentina and I left the chapel. I place it inside the box. There are a few others in it as well. I’ve collected them whenever they’ve appeared impossibly and out of nowhere. I can’t quite explain why.Along with the feathers are three pairs of silver earrings, one turquoise ring that Mom loved, and some knick-knacks of hers I kept only because I remember her wearing them, not because they’re valuable. The thing I’m looking for sits demurely out of the way in one corner. It’s a small ring, an antique. It belonged to my grandmother, according