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I give in to him, kissing his soft lips with as much ardor and tender care as he’s giving mine. His warm, rich essence envelopes me while my tears glide across our tongues.
“We’re out of options.”
“Please,” he says, fragile and achingly desperate.
My hands grip the front of his shirt while the tips of his fingers burrow into my back hard enough to bruise, and I hope like hell they do so I can keep him a little while longer.
“I won’t let you make any more sacrifices that will keep you and your family apart,” I say when he reluctantly frees my mouth. After removing my engagement ring, I place it in his hand and close his fingers over his palm. “This means too much. You mean too much.”
It takes every ounce of courage and selflessness I possess to step away from him. To leave him broken and staring at the spot where he held me just seconds ago.
It’s going to take time for him to start over, and it might kill me to not be the one who gets to witness it… But my love for him demands just that.
A chance for him to have something he’s dreamed of since he was a boy.
A chance for him to be happy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rowan
I’ve been acting as my own bartender in the manor’s private, below ground lounge for the better part of three hours, and by now, I’m thoroughly drunk.
Molly left because she thinks she’s doing me a favor, but she has no idea how wrong she is.
That woman has fucking ruined me for anyone else. She crept her way into my heart, burrowing through tissue and bone until she became a permanent part of the very system which gives me life.
I’ll never desire, cherish, or care for anyone the way I do for her.
The dimly lit room filled with dark leather couches and even darker wood accents matches my mood perfectly. I pour myself another finger of whiskey, down it, and then chuck the glass across the room. It shatters against the opposite wall on impact, and it feels damn good to release this pent-up aggression I’ve been carrying around since Molly left.
I do it again, then again. And again until my chest is heaving and there aren’t any glasses left for me to throw.
Sam’s comment that I’m not a Radley shouldn’t fuck with my head as much as it is. I’ve got Radley blood coursing through my veins, so what do I care what he thinks?
Except I do, and I refuse to let him take all this from me.
I didn’t think it was possible, but in less than two months, this estate has become my home. Even this town, with its quirks and charming residents, has started to grow on me. On top of that, the staff and Molly mean more to me than the billions I’d be losing if I chose to stay.
But our situation is bleak at best with Sam blackmailing us into compliance, and though I’m not taking this lying down, I’m struggling to find an answer.
I should’ve seen this coming. I’m the one who reads people, but I’ve been so distracted lately that I’ve seemingly lost my touch.
Distractions remind me of Molly, and thinking of losing her has my temper flaring yet again.
I stand before moving behind the bar in search of something else to smash. After scanning the three glass shelves above the sink, and rows of crystal decanters filled with various types of alcohol, I eventually settle for the empty champagne flutes that are hanging from the rack beside the wineglasses.
Rounding the counter, I hurl the flute at the wall, where it clatters to the ground in a crystalline spray of glass. I manage to throw two more before I’m abruptly interrupted.
Jerking toward the doorway, I find Reginald’s hazy silhouette standing between two glowing sconces.
“Respectfully, sir,” he drones, stepping inside the lounge while glaring at the mess I’ve made, “what the fuck are you doing?”
I sway when I twist toward him, needing to lean an arm on the barstool beside me to stay upright. “What’s it look like?”
“Like you’re pouting and smashing your toys.”
“Don’t you worry, I’ll clean it all up,” I assure him, batting my hand through the air.
