How could I have deluded myself so badly?
I was helpless around her, forced to keep her at arm's length to protect her from myself, but too weak not to touch her. Be close to her. Dream of her. Taste her.
But that didn’t mean she felt the same way.
Even though I thought I’d felt it. Even though she melted every time I held her, even though she sought me out just as much as I did her.
Had any of it been real? Was it all so that I would relax enough for her to plan her great escape?
“Rocco!”
She’s suddenly there, right in front of me. Those stunning hazel eyes pierce through my anger like a shot to the heart.
Gently she touches my clenched fists, slowly unfurling them to reveal the bloody marks my nails have made in my palms.
“You really think I would go back to him?” She whispers, and I can hear the pain in her voice. “After everything he did? After everythingIdid to get away.”
I snatch my hands away. “You tell me. Because from where I’m standing, that’s exactly what you were doing.”
“I told you I wanted to be part of this. I told you I could help.” Her eyes flood with tears. “I was going to him to helpyou,and you dare accuse me of betraying you?”
She backs away a step. “I hadn’t heard from him in weeks. You think it’s a coincidence he messaged me the second you were heading out of town?”
My entire body goes entirely still. “You were walking into a trap.”
“Willingly,” she hisses back, moving further away. “Foryou.”
“You damn idiot.”
She flinches at my harshness. “Maybe. But at least I was doing something to ensure all this isn’t for fucking nothing.”
I don’t call out after her when she storms away. I just fall, exhausted, onto the couch, my mind racing.
She had no proof of her intentions, but she was right. Why would anyone willingly run back to the arms of their abuser unless they needed something in return?
Hell, it was the only reason I ever sought out my own father.
And I’d come in here accusing her of something unthinkable.
I groan into my hands. What a fucking mess.
In the days that follow, Cas does not come out of her room.
Donatella tries to coax her out with food, but she refuses to even crack open the door to receive it.
“She hasn’t eaten anything in almost three days,” my housekeeper announces as she enters my office.
I rarely work from home, but with my men tying up loose ends in South Africa without me, it was easy to make my excuses instead of working at the compound.
“What do you expect me to do?”
Donatella levels me with an exasperated look. “You asked me to keep an eye on her and alert you to any concerning behavior. This isveryconcerning behavior.”
“If she’s going to act like a child, she’s welcome to. She’s not going to die of hunger over this.”
“I think you severely underestimate how stubborn she is.”
I put my pen down. “I still don’t hear you offering a solution.”
