Revenge.

As Cristiano strode down the hall toward the east wing of his home he smiled grimly, remembering the way Jasmine had melted at his touch. The way she trembled in his arms had told him everything he needed to know.

She wanted him.

She cared for him.

That would be her weakness.

Freshly showered and dressed, Cristiano sat behind his large sleek desk with a long sigh, cradling a scotch in his hands. He tossed it back and felt it burn a fiery path down his throat. His grim gaze fell upon the thick file his contacts collected for him months ago about Zayn St. James and his family. He raked a hand through his hair, noticing it shook slightly with fury recalling his sister.

Sofia was all that mattered. She was the one who needed his protection. He was doing it all for her. He owed his family that much. Cristiano could destroy anything he wanted. And he had. He should have savored the moment. But every time he had a fleeting meeting with the dark haired beauty the blood in his veins ignited like a burning inferno. Cristiano was furious. For months he'd fantasized about taking vengeance on Zayn and his family. No, not vengeance, he corrected himself. Justice.

Sofia's multiple suicide attempts over the past months fueled his thirst for revenge. It wasn't until he learned she was pregnant and trying to jump from the balcony of their home in Italy, hundreds of feet from the ground and struggling to find the courage to jump to her death did he find out the truth of what happened.

Cristiano had been away doing business in Europe for some time until he received word he needed to come back home. His head housekeeper had informed him Sofia was acting oddly–crying and depressed for weeks with unsuccessful attempts to get her to reveal what was bothering her.

"Sofia?" He said softly, closing the door behind him.

But when he walked to the bed and touched the puff of silk, his eyes widened. There was no girl in it. He whirled, staring around the room. She was gone. His bodyguard and childhood friend, Mateo reached the threshold of his sisters bedroom, concern etched on his features.

"Where is Sofia?" He asks him.

Mateo gave him a questioning look, scanning the room. "She was here earlier and according to the guards she has not left her private quarters." He answers in Italian.

He strode toward the balcony just as a thin little cry reached him from beyond, somewhere in the darkness. He looked at his friend over his shoulder, "Mateo!"

Heavy footsteps came running behind him but his attention was of the sight over the edge of the balcony and he felt every bone in his body chill. His mouth dropped, he watched in disbelief. He was too stunned to move for a moment. He was still gaping when Mateo stops beside him and tenses.

"Let me handle this, Your–"

Cristiano shook his head, cutting him off instantly, ignoring the pellets of increasing rain beating against his face. The courtyard seemed to spin in the gathering dusk.

"Do not move, Sofia! Par favore! Do not move! Whatever ails you, we will find a solution."

"Leave me, Cristiano. Let me find peace." she replied in a monotonous voice spreading her arms open and teetering on the edge. "I've brought shame to our family with my mistakes. I cannot live another day and can't imagine the disgust in our people's eyes. I cannot live knowing I'm ruined. I cannot live knowing I have a child growing in my womb and I'm not married. . ." Her voice broke at her confession.

The shock that worked its way across Cristiano's face didn't have time to register as he watched his little sister sway unsteadily on her feet. However, the pit of his stomach plummeted between his feet of an image of her splattered on the stones of the courtyard flashed before him.

"Sofia!" He roared, extending an arm as it would help catch her. "Par favore! I beg you, do not do this. Back away from the ledge and I shall come get you! Please!" He pleaded.

He closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer to a God who had long since abandoned him, extending one leg over the railing and than the other, easing his body onto the ledge. Some of the stone fell away beneath his feet, and he landed back against the moss-slick wall, arms spread wide, breathing deeply.

"Cristiano! Let me get her." His bodyguard urged, hands gripping the ledge so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Cristiano's skin broke out in a cold sweat as he moved closer to her, ever so slowly, progressing by inches. "Instead of standing there watching me, go find some rope!" He orders as he slowly advanced toward Sofia.

"Cristiano, I'm warning you, do not come any closer."

"You are my only family Sofia. I will not allow you to do this to yourself. I promise you I will bring you justice once I learn the details. Let me bring you in slowly and I will take care of everything, I promise you."

"Even you cannot help me. Nothing can be fixed, it's too late." She cried. "I'm sorry."

"Don't you give up on me!" He roared, not caring if his outburst rattled her composure. Once he got her inside, he vowed to himself, he'd deliver a lecture she would never forget before he learned of her dilemma.

Cristiano moved closer to her, watching his sister shiver.

"I slept with a man when we were in London." She admitted on a sniffle. "I was foolish and allowed myself to be seduced. . .he said beautiful things to me Cristiano. His words matched his appearance and I was completely smitten by him. I believed he felt the same of me. We connected on so many different levels. I've never felt like this about anyone. We drank plenty of champagne with dinner. Afterward, we went to a club and danced and drank some more. I wasn't thinking, neither was he–we had consumed so much alcohol and than the unthinkable happened. I woke the next morning in the hotel we checked into the night before and found myself alone. And now look at me." She gestures to her body. "I'm pregnant and unmarried."

Her confession squeezed his heart in his chest for he couldn't feel anything at the moment but resentment and despair. The multitude of emotions swarming through him could wait. All he wanted was his sister in his arms safely tucked back in the castle.

"I love you no matter what you've done, Sofia. You are my sister and I vow justice will be done. But please edge away slowly and press your back against the wall. I will come for you but do as I say before we both die."

A chill crept down Cristiano's back as he continued to make his way to her not sure if he could save her before she jumped. Her hair flowed around her shoulders and back as the wind picked up. The wetness of the rain made it darker and when she seared him with a stare over his her shoulder he had to stop.

The brightness he used to witness in her sapphire eyes looked dull and lifeless. A broken air seemed to enshroud her now, but it hadn't been there the last time he'd seen her. The girl he grew up with was full of laughter and joy. The innocent light emitting from her soul radiated as bright as the sun. His little sister's face was thinner, the youthful chubbiness of her cheeks vanished. She appeared older, maturer than he last saw her. She appeared broken, wounded.

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she wavered at the edge.

"Please Cristiano, please let me go in peace. I cannot live anymore. I want to be free of my thoughts, I want to be free. . ." She cried.

Cristiano leapt to the next arch on the roof, no thoughts of his safety in mind, his will driving him on. Landing smoothly on his feet he was surprised by his sleek agility until he stumbled slightly backward, his arms pinwheeling, trying desperately to keep balanced as his shoe slipped.

"Cristiano!" He heard Sofia scream in hysteria.

He flung his upper body backward, lurching sharply against the moss layered wall again, badly injuring his shoulder. He staggered, pressing his back safely, breathing deeply, his shoulder sore. Cristiano risked a step, holding his breath, relief filling him when the edge held. However, tiny bits of rock clattered down the tower wall, then tumbled soundlessly into the mist and fog.

He didn't know how much longer the old structure would hold his weight.

The hard rain soaked his clothes and hair, making the stones of the narrow walkway slippery as well as unstable. Cristiano stole a sidelong glance at Sofia and saw she was holding back tears, backed away from the edge and turned her body towards him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He repeated, trying to straighten his shoulder, wincing at the pain radiating through his arm. He pressed his back to the wall, one arm stretched out wide for balance, a few inches closer to her.

"Cristiano! I have come back with rope! Heads up!" Called out Mateo in the dark from above him, obviously in another room and leaning out a window. A coiled rope materialized to his side and he caught it with his good arm, twining the rope around his fingers a few times.

The pain in his shoulder began to overwhelm his senses but instead of succumbing to the weakness, anger replaced the pain. An emotion of fury coursed through his veins at the danger his sister put them through. If she had just listened to him he would have swiftly pulled her by the arms and safety back inside instead of foolishly risking their lives.

"Sofia, come to me. NOW! I will hear no more protests from you. I am no in the mood nor will I tolerate your disobedience any longer! I have lost little of what was left of my patience. Walk away from the roof's edge this instant!"

Sofia stiffened, forgetting her original intent and focused on her brothers rage. The anger in Cristiano's voice was dangerously teetering on the edge like a thunderous storm. Sofia's eyes widened in fear, as wet, thick strands of hair flew into her eyes from the building winds. She brushed them aside with a trembling hand. Her brother had a notorious temper once it snapped. She'd never been on the receiving side of his verbal backlash but had observed it many a times before.

"Step slowly back away from the ledge." He commanded, his teeth clenched, a muscle twitching in his right cheek.

Sofia's body obeyed before her brain processed what she was doing. Her nightgown was wet and her hair plastered to her head by the time she backed slowly until her back met the wall. The rooftop was slippery, coated with moss. With a sigh of relief, Cristiano reached her side and slipped one arm around her waist.

"I've got you." He murmured. "It's going to be a slow process as we work our way back. No sudden moves, or we'll both be splattered on the stones of the courtyard. Understood?"

Cristiano risked a step, holding his breath as they progressed slowly taking one step at a time. Tiny bits of rock clattered down the tower wall, then tumbled soundlessly through space. He stopped for a moment, tying the rope around his waist. If they fell the rope would give them a measure of leverage against the wet surface. Tightening the rope around his middle, and testing the knot as best he could, Cristiano calls out to Mateo, "I've tied the rope around my body! Make sure you have enough man power to haul us back in!"

"There are four of us ready for you!" Mateo responded.

Cristiano looked down into Sofia's upturned, rain-beaded face. Before he could think about it too much, he maneuvered her into his arms.

"Hold on to me as tight as you can. The rain might cause us to slip. No matter what, don't panic and start screaming and failing about. Mateo and the guards are more than capable of holding and hauling us back to safety."

Sofia's eyes widened in her pale face. She had their mother's sapphire blue eyes while he had his father's disturbingly dark ones. Every time he looked at her he couldn't help but see his mother. They were nearly identical in appearance.

"I've brought shame to our family Cristiano." Shaking her head. "I cannot face anyone if I come back with you. Please don't let me suffer even more than I have been. Please." She places a hand over her pelvis emphasizing her condition while the tears mixed with the rain dropped relentlessly passed her chin.

For the first time, Cristiano felt the chill of the night. The small hairs on his arms and neck stood on end. He furrowed his brow, glanced into her eyes and than back down to her hand. He froze with a dawning look of thunderstruck recognition, finally noticing the outline of a small bump.

His sister was always slender and still was, expect for her abdomen.

She was with child as she claimed. It was no lie. He looked at his sister as though he were seeing her for the first time. The longer he stood there sopping wet watching the rain pour from her face and soak her hair and skin, the more urgent grew his desperate need to protect and shelter her intensified to an almost panicked need.

She was going to kill herself because of the child. Because she made a horrendous mistake that has ruined her reputation. The shame of pregnancy without marriage was frowned down upon in their country. It was barely tolerable for a man to touch an honorable female if they weren't at least engaged. How was his unmarried and very pregnant sister going to handle the scandal? How was she going to take the backlash especially with their aristocratic heritage. They had an image to uphold in front of their people.

Cold fury blasted through him.

A man did this to her.

A man fooled her into his bed.

"What is his name?"

Sofia's eyes widened with fright at the dark intense fury that flood his dark eyes.

"Zayn St. James."

He's a dead man, vowed Cristiano. Dead.

Sofia was left a wreck. His sister was losing her sanity and desperate enough to kill herself without a thought. The night of her suicide attempt, the maids bathed her and a doctor had to be called to administer a sedative. Two guards stood outside her bedroom door while another watched her sleep to make sure she did not harm herself. But it was futile. She just couldn't get over her dilemma–her health deteriorating. Insomnia left her in the darkness.

Anytime they force fed her she couldn't keep the food down. She became paler, thinner, and spoke less and less. So weak, she needed assistance to bathe or dress herself. Sofia was in a deep depression and whatever they tried never helped elevate her spirits. Desperate, Cristiano was forced to seek outside help and entered her into a treatment facility in England. He had no choice but depend on professionals to care for her in hopes they can help with her condition.

It was the hardest thing he had to do. But he couldn't stand there watching her kill herself slowly. The child she carried was not faring any better. She was not just slowly killing herself but the child that grew inside her as well. And now, Cristiano was left with his revenge against the family that did this to his sister.

The file was thick and full of information as he flipped through page after page. Over the last several months, he learned the spineless man that did this to her was the son of the notorious Englishman Julien St. James–the European hotel owner of the St. James hotel chain with business spreading to the United States. The family originated from London, England with their permanent residence in California for nearly thirty years.

Julien's wife–Angelica St. James was the daughter of Patrick Taverron– owner of T-Enterprises. A company centered on building ships, yachts, freight liners, and cruise ships. Julien and Angelica St. James married twenty-eight years ago and had three children: Zayn, Jasmine and Camelia.

He held a small stack of pictures clipped together and started flipping through them, again, for the hundredth time, going over the information he had been memorizing over and over again since before the wedding happened–since he learned of his sisters predicament. A wedding he made sure he was invited to as soon as word reached him. Although, Cristiano and the groom never personally met, they were connected by his late grandfather who he'd conducted business with in the past.

Julien had eyes of a strong determined man. They were a smoky grey, resembling a winter storm. His stern stare held knowledge and was etched in every line of the hard planes of his face. His jet black hair silvered at the temples. Cristiano recalls their brief exchange, shaking hands and mingling with groups of wedding guests. He would never forget Julien's strong grip when they shook hands.

Cristiano flipped to the next one–his wife. Angelica was a beautiful woman with a mass of straight tumbling strawberry-blonde hair. Her face was angelic, rose-ivory and soft. Dark intense blue eyes stared back at him. He could read the arrogance and strength there along with a grace and wisdom beyond her years. During the reception, the woman beckoned attention without even trying and her frosty demeanor warned others to stay away. Gossipers whispered behind their hands, watching her carefully as though they feared her. While Cristiano made his rounds that night, he heard one lady call her the 'Ice Queen.'

Jasmine was breathtaking as usual, with the same coloring as her mother but with soft golden brown hair–a mixture of her parents. Her almond shaped eyes were serious but even before he met her he detected a fiery will and inborn command in their deep depths. He traced her prominent cheekbones angling down to a small, delicate mouth like a rosebud. The photo managed to capture the strength and independence reflected in the slight tilt of her chin.

At first glance, when he first saw her picture, he knew she didn't look like the easy type, how he had sensed this, Cristiano did not know, but she appeared like the type of woman that looked challenge right in the eye and didn't cower from it. Perhaps it was the way she held herself, erect and poised. Or maybe it was the blazing expression of those large intelligent eyes. There was more about her he felt the camera couldn't quite capture and he saw in it in its true form when he first met her. For the moment he'd seen her picture, there's been something drawing him to her.

Watching her sister Camelia protectively while her love and sadness reflected deeply in her eyes is what caught his attention instantly that night. He wondered if she noticed the lone tear that had escaped the corner of her eyes when she watched her sister and her new groom take their first dance. And when he finally introduced himself to her, she dazzled him with a polite smile and those eccentric grayish eyes. It was during this brief time, he decided on a plan to make her worthless brother suffer for his mistakes. It was easier than Cristiano imagined–and she was the reason, the only person, who would unknowingly help him achieve his purpose.