I forced my hand away casually, like it meant nothing.
“Just sick,” I said, brushing it off with a small grimace.“Your dramatic kidnapping didn’t exactly agree with me.”
His eyes lingered too long, no doubt looking for signs of deception.
I held his gaze, steady, unflinching.
“Stomach,” I added, tapping lightly just below my ribs.“Nerves.I’m not fond of water.”I wrinkled my nose faintly.
A flicker of irritation crossed his face.After a moment, his posture eased slightly and he seemed to accept my excuse.
“Understandable,” he said.
I exhaled slowly, masking the tension that still coiled tight in my chest.Careful.Every move had to be careful now.Because this wasn’t just about me anymore.
I straightened slightly, shifting the conversation before he could circle back.
“You don’t want to do this.”
He tilted his head, amused.“No?”
“You’re stepping over a line you can’t come back from,” I said, voice low, deliberate.“You think my family won’t find you?That they won’t burn through whatever safe haven you think Spain gives you?”
He huffed a quiet breath, almost like I’d said something mildly entertaining.
“I’m aware of the risks.”
“Then stop,” I pressed.“Now.Before this turns into something you can’t control.”
His gaze sharpened.For a second, frustration flickered there.
“With you?”he said.“That was never going to be an option.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why me?”I demanded.“What is this really about?”
He looked at me then.Mesmerized.Like he was seeing something that wasn’t entirely there.
“You’ve been in my head since Spain,” he said quietly.
A chill slid down my spine.
“That’s your problem,” I said flatly.
He ignored it.
“Believe me,” he continued, “if I could have erased you, I would have.”
That didn’t comfort me.Not even slightly.
“But I couldn’t.”
His voice shifted.Lower.
“Because you reminded me too much of her.”
I stilled.
