I walked up two steps before I turned to look at him, eye to eye.
God, he was so perfect once upon a time. I’d never wanted anyone like I did Victor Rossi, now I was giving him his surname back. Tears formed in my eyes and a lump grew in my throat, but I forced them away.
I searched his eyes silently for a second, then said, “I can, and I will. You’re going to be my ex-husband very soon, Victor, so stop pretending we’ll ever get back together—because we won’t.”
He reached out and circled my wrist, gently, and tugged me toward him slightly.
“Tell me you don’t love me,” he rasped, and my heart spasmed. His eyes shone, his lower lip quivering as he waited, knowing that I still loved him. That I would always love him, albeit a different version of him.
I forced myself to remember him fucking Cami on that video. How he’d chosen that instead of communication.
“I feel nothing for you,” I lied, and hopefully it was believable.
Because the truth was, I still loved him. I hated that I did, but I did. You couldn’t decide to just stop loving someone; it didn’t work like that.
So instead, I lied.
He flinched, and I pulled my wrist back.
“Don’tevertouch me again.” I turned and walked slowly upstairs, trying to ignore my shaking legs and sinking heart.
“You’re lying,” Victor refuted softly. “But that’s alright. If that’s what you need to do to cope with what I did to you. But he won’t ever love you like I do, no matter how rich he is.”
I stopped, listening to him as silent tears streaked down my face.
I didn’t want Graham. I didn’t care about his money—I’d been married to Victor for so long I’d never considered anyone else. If Victor wouldn’t have cheated on me, I’d still be very much in love with him.
But would I?
I hadn’t let him touch me before, had I? I’d felt distant. Unattractive. Maybe there was a crack in our marriage that I couldn’t repair, so I’d glossed over it, whereas Victor had cheated.
Neither of us communicated.
We’d both screwed up.
But what he’d done had tore my heart apart, and I’d be damned if he wasn’t going to feel the same.
“He doesn’t have to love me like you did; he just has to be a decent guy,” I called over my shoulder, turning back before he could see the tears rolling down my face. “He just has to be a one-woman man, something you could never be.”
I moved away and into my bedroom, slamming the door and leaning against it as tears flooded my cheeks. Hot breaths clogged my throat as I slid down the door, my head falling into my hands as I cried.
I hated Victor for doing this to me. But I hated him even more for doing this to us.
To al of us.
45
VICTOR
The bedroom door slammed, and I gripped the railings with both hands, praying it held me up.
I’m losing her.
Even when she was carrying our child, I was losing her. Nothing mattered to her anymore—nothing. Nothing I said or did, absolutely nothing.
I bowed my head as tears stung my eyes. So, who was coming to fly across America to see my fucking pregnant wife? Did he even know she was pregnant? What kind of sick fuck wanted to take a pregnant woman out? My knuckles tightened, and I gasped, forgetting to breathe.
Lila was going out with another man, a man who was both rich enough and keen enough to fly his ass across the States to see her.
