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“No.”
And she recoiled as though he’d slapped her and something important inside Marco seemed to curl up and die.
“This has to end,” he said quietly. “It was fun, and it was easy, but with Dante in the picture now, we cannot keep going as we were.”
“You’re scared of your brother?” She scoffed, finishing her wine. “Whatever I do in my personal life is not his concern.”
“But it is his concern and he’s right to feel it, because he knows me. Better than you do. He knows that I don’t do long term. I don’t do commitment. He knows I get bored and walk out on things, and people. That’s my life, Portia, it’s who I am.”
“Look at your vineyard,” she contradicted. “And your charities work. You do what matters to you and you do it long term. You commit to that. As for your inability to be with a woman for a long time, you’re way smarter than me: I committed to the wrong guy, instead of doing what you have, and just enjoying people on a short-term basis while it suited me. How much better is that? But I’m not wrong for you and you’re not wrong for me. You know that. This is different to anyone and anything you’ve ever done before.”
His breath seemed to burn in his lungs. He was losing the courage of his convictions, but all he could think about was Dante’s certainty that he’d hurt her, and it so perfectly underscored Marco’s own doubts, based on his experiences. Nothing mattered to him more than not hurting Portia, especially after what she’d been through.
“I care about you,” he said, finally. “But not enough, or maybe too much. I’m not going to risk your feelings. I know how this ends, and it’s not good for you. Trust me when I say that it’s better for both of us to walk away now. No hard feelings.”
“No hard feelings,”she repeated. But she shook her head, instantly rejecting what he’d said. “Don’t I get a say in this? If you’re so worried aboutmyfeelings, don’t I get to be the one to protect them?”
Marco just stared back at her. For the first time since meeting him, he looked lost. “I won’t be someone else you have to get over.”
“Everyone and everything has the potential to be a hurdle in our life. I thought I was marrying for safety. I thought Jack was a good guy who’d always look out for me, but he wasn’t. He hurt me. He cheated on me. Life is unpredictable.” She stood straighter, stared Marco in the eyes. “It’s my life, my risk to take. I was hurt by Jack, but I got over it. I’m strong. I’ll survive you too.”
His eyes swept shut. “But I won’t. Not knowing that I’ve hurt you. We said we’d end it whenever we wanted, that we’d be honest about that. I don’t want this to be tainted by bad memories. I just want to go out on a high.”
He was making no sense. Not given how they both felt. His words, sure. His words were based in logic, but the second Portia stopped thinking and just listened to how shefelt, she knew that leaving Marco now was completely and utterly wrong.
“So you’re okay with me walking out that door, and never coming back? With us never seeing each other again?”
A muscle jerked low in his jaw. “Si.It’s time,cara.”
“Don’t. Don’t call me that, as if this meant anything to you.” She could feel her emotions slipping, her self-control wavering in the face of hurt and shock and heartbreak.
He was watchful but silent, as if he understood that anything he said would probably further inflame her rage. Or perhaps he’d just said all he was prepared to say.
This wasn’t up for debate.
He was ending it, just as they’d agreed, and though Portia’s heart was breaking, though she felt this was wrong with every fibre of her being, had fought hard to draw her pride back in place after Jack. She wasn’t going to lose it again.
“Okay,” she said on a low exhalation. “If that’s what you want.” She stood her ground a moment, breath held in her throat, because she knew that she had one chance to speak the words in her heart and she’d always regret it if she didn’t. “But you should know, I’ve fallen in love with you.”
His eyes jerked to hers, a look of anguished surprise in his features, which was all the confirmation she needed, she thought with a heavy sadness in her chest, that he didn’t feel anything like that for her. Nonetheless, she pushed on.
“I am standing here, offering you all of me, because I love you, and I think you know how special this thing is. I want this. I want you. For as long as it runs, at the risk of being hurt, I want more of what we’re doing. I’m not asking you for forever. I’m just asking you for more.”
His eyes met hers. Dark emotions swirled in their depths. He didn’t speak.
Portia’s voice cracked. “But if you’re sure, if you’re really sure, that you don’t feel that way for me, I’ll go. It’s your call.”
He swore softly. “Don’t. Don’t say that. You are not in love with me.”
“I—,”
“You are in love with the distraction I’ve offered, from your broken engagement. With the way I have made you feel—a beautiful, sexual woman who deserves to be worshipped. You are in love with those things, not me.”
She flinched at the angry rejection in his words. “You don’t know me,” she said, straightening her spine, remembering the importance of pride and self-possession even when you were withering away inside. “And right now, I sort of wish I didn’t know you. Goodbye, Marco.”
Still she waited, just a moment, giving him a chance to argue back, to say something, anything, to undo this horrible mess. It had all come so completely out of the blue.
But he was silent, and Portia was drained. She placed her wine glass down on the counter, collected her handbag, then walked silently to the door and out of Marco’s life.
