Maybe Salvatore was right and I should have dropped my mad wife at the psychiatric ward of the private clinic and abandoned her. Forgotten about her, rather than hoped for some miraculous recovery and a somewhat normal life.
“You have a right to be happy,” Salvatore went on. “You’ve watched Violet for ten years. You probably know the woman better than she knows herself.” His gaze bored into mine now, stripping me bare. “She’s already part of your life.”
My hand slowly released his collar. He was right, but it didn’t make this whole fucked-up situation right.
“You’re wrong if you think she wants anything to do with me,” I said quietly. She had made that perfectly clear.
Salvatore straightened, brushing off his shirt like nothing had happened. “You promised me just a few nights ago that when the opportunity came to find your second chance, you’d take it. Now, fucking take it.”
I let out a humorless laugh.
“She thinks she’s here to help my mad wife.” I turned away, dragging a hand down my face as I tried to rein in the stormof emotions closing in. “And knowing Violet, she won’t let go of that.”
“Then use that to keep her here until you can convince her there’s more to your story,” he said.
I glanced at him. “And how’s that?”
“With Violet in your bed and in your life.” He shot me a cocky look. “It’ll end exactly how it’s supposed to, brother.”
My chest tightened. “Except you’re forgetting one important thing: I’m still married, and Violet has turned me down once already.”
He scoffed. “Trust me, I know women. And that one will be yours.”
We stood there, the air between us charged with his confidence and my hopelessness, until I finally sighed.
“One day, Salvatore, a woman will come along and turn your world upside down. I can’t wait to see howyouhandle that shit.”
A faint smirk ghosted his lips. “Never gonna happen.”
Salvatore was still mourning his late wife, Renzo’s mother, who died in childbirth. It was another thing we had in common: single-dad status. Yes, my wife was still alive, but her demons prevented her from being a mother and a wife.
“Famous last words.” I couldn’t wait to tell himI told you so, but until then, I’d have to deal with a certain woman who had unraveled me once.
Would I be able to return the favor this time around? Even more importantly, would she stay despite all the obstacles in our way?
TWELVE
VIOLET
What have I walked into?I pondered to myself as the sixteen-year-old boy led me down the corridor without a word.
He moved with such confidence and strength it was as if he’d learned early on how to take up space. A much younger version of Lykos, unmistakably so. Same dark hair and eyes, same cheekbones, same intensity. Same weight in his presence.
Only… not as contained. Maybe it was the fresh cut across his face that gave off that impression, or maybe it was whatever control his father exercised that hadn’t fully settled into him yet.
“Here,” he said when he stopped at a room down a narrow hallway.
I stepped inside, my gaze sweeping the space automatically, taking in each detail.
“Wait here,” the boy said, then disappeared, shutting the door behind him and leaving me alone.
Light filtered in through tall windows with breathtaking views of Athens and the blue seas over the horizon. The furniturearound me was expensive, arranged with comfort in mind, but the space felt rarely used.
There was nothing personal in the room. No scattered books. No personal photographs. No evidence of a family.
I curled my fingers around the thin folder while I contemplated what I had gotten myself into.
I hadn’t expected this—or him—on this assignment. Yes, I took this assignment in Greece with hopes to find my daughter, or at least to catch a glimpse of Lykos and his family. However, I didn’t expect to come face-to-face with them all on my first day here. I wasn’t mentally prepared. Tomorrow or next week, I might have been. But not today.
