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I pressed my forehead against the cool window, staring blankly at the passing scenery. My thoughts raced, torn between the desire to run and fight and the dull ache of resignation.
Would it be so bad to settle down and live a quiet life? Maybe even find a man my father would approve of and have a family?
But the thought of opening Sophie’s bookstore without her by my side brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes.
In the end, I was the one who had messed this up.
I was the one who thought I could have a life of my own choosing.
As the miles stretched on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I might not have the power to decide over my life or my future. And maybe that was just penance.
Penance for having Matteo killed. Penance for hurting Alex.
Penance for being the way I am.
Odd, rebellious, different.
Unlovable.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The night air whipped past me as I raced down the deserted road, and the motorcycle vibrated beneath me as I sped through the dark.
The roar of the engine was the perfect background music to my own turbulent thoughts, drowning out the world around me.
The conversation with Franco Moretti kept replaying in my mind.
Could I really trust anything he said?
Nothing was ever as it seemed in our world. Not even the situation with Franco Moretti and Fee.
I gripped the handlebars tighter, swallowed around the thickness in my throat. I shouldn’t have treated Fee the way I did. Should’ve listened.
But seeing Franco’s hands on her had ignited a jealous rage in me. I’d wanted to end him right then and there. I’d wanted to believe the worst. It would’ve been easier if she’d betrayed me like the rest of my family. It would’ve fit the picture. I sighed. I should’ve known better.
Now I was the one who owed Fiona an apology…again. I had to grovel, beg her forgiveness, and confess how I felt.
Wait, what? Confess?
How did I feel? Was I really falling for her? Or was this, whatever it was that was going on between us, just me taking care of her?
I was doing exactly what Gabe asked me to do.
Except… He’d never asked me to hold her. Never asked me to fuck her. Never asked me to fall for her.
Because I had. I had fallen in love with her.
Just to fuck it up by not trusting her.
I groaned. I had to make things right. And hopefully she would forgive me—again.
The image of her face intruded my thoughts. The hurt covered by an eye roll.
Fuck.
I’d been unfair to her, and the knowledge felt like a knife stuck in my chest, dangerously close to my heart.
My focus snapped back to the road as an ominous glow caught my eye. A fire in the distance painted the sky with flickering shades of orange and red. Was there a house on fire? An accident?
