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“And that was a mistake.” Nero gets to his feet, pacing. “Just let this go, Princess. I told you, it’s over.”
“Stop saying that!” I hate the way my voice cracks. I feel like I’m completely exposed, my emotions laid out for him to see. And he’s just watching me with cool indifference. As if he never held me as I fell asleep, or swore he loved me, after all.
I take a deep breath and try to reason with him. “Listen, I know why you’re doing this. I get it. You’re scared for my safety, but this isn’t the answer. You don’t have to send me away,” I continue, pleading. “We can get through this. Together.”
But Nero’s eyes are cold. “Grow up, Princess. I told you, the fantasy of a normal life was just for one day. I’m a Baretti. You’ll never be safe with me.”
His mask slips. I see the fear before he hardens again. I know that I’m right. He’s doing this because he thinks it’ll protect me.
“What if I don’t want a normal life?” I demand, moving closer, so that only mere inches separate us. “What if I just want you?”
I place my palms on his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the thin tuxedo shirt.
He shakes his head, looking tormented. “It’s not that easy.”
“But we’re supposed to be together. You told me. You promised!”
I reach up, desperately pulling him down so I can kiss him. Trying to show him the passion that binds us. The connection I could never deny. For a moment, he’s frozen there, unyielding, but then his resistance wavers as I press closer, arching my body against him.
His stern lips soften as I ply them with kisses. His hands move to my waist, and I use the opportunity to wrap my arms around his neck, wanting to strip away his defenses. Needing to—
“No!” Nero tears himself away from me. “That’s enough,” he swears. “It’s over, Lily. Hell, it was never even real.”
He walks out, slamming the front door behind him.
No.
My legs give way and I sink to the couch. I can’t believe it, but he’s made his mind up. He’s determined to send me away.
But how does this make any sense? I’m still a target, wherever I am in the world. Here, at least, I have Nero’s security. Kyle, and his men, and Nero himself ready to take on anyone who tries to hurt me.
But in Paris, I’ll be alone. The distance won’t stop anyone, I’ll be a sitting duck for the first person who wants to send a message to the great Nero Barretti. A divorce agreement won’t change that. I’ll still be in danger.
Without him.
My heart aches. For all the talk of safety and protection, that’s not the real reason my heart is breaking in my chest right now. No, it’s because Nero has chosen a life without me. After swearing all this time that I belonged to him, that he was the only man who could make me happy, he’s ready to just give up on us. Like I’m better off without him loving me.
But he can’t truly believe that…
Can he?
I don’t want to wait until it’s too late to find out. I quickly change out of my gown into jeans and a sweater, grab Nero’s keys and slip out the back door, exiting through the alley and climbing in the car he keeps parked there. I drive over to the club, suspecting he’ll be there. It’s home turf to him, the place where he’s boss, and everybody knows better than to talk back.
But I still have a few things to say.
The bar is full of people, so busy that I’m able to slip through the crowded room without anyone really noticing me. My thoughts are full of possible arguments, ways to convince him to see reason, as I hurry down the back hallway to his office. His door is ajar, and I push it open without thinking, about to launch into my fervent pleas—
“Ooh, baby, look at you.”
A woman’s voice snaps me back to reality. I gasp in shock. Nero is here, just as I suspected. But he’s not alone.
He’s leaning against his desk, knuckles white as he grips the wood. And there’s a woman on her knees in front of him, some blonde I don’t recognize, breasts spilling out of a tight red dress, cooing in a breathy voice as she unzips his pants.
I freeze. “Nero?” I say, my voice coming out a whisper.
His eyes meet mine, and I almost don’t recognize him, the expression in his gaze is so distant and cold. “Yeah?” he asks, casual. Like there isn’t a woman down on the floor about to blow him.
Like my heart isn’t being ripped out of my chest.
