Page 147 of Maddening Fixation

His jaw flexed once. Then became still again.

His face remained carved from stone.

If my words had reached him...

If they had shaken anything inside him...

He gave no indication whatsoever.

For several endless seconds, he simply looked at me.

His throat moved in a slow swallow.

For the first time since I’d met him again, something flickered behind those icy blue eyes.

Surprise. Confusion.

Perhaps even doubt.

But it vanished so quickly I couldn’t be sure I’d seen it at all.

Finally, he spoke.

“You speak with conviction.” His gaze never left mine. “Conviction, however, is not proof.”

The hope inside me crumbled.

Before I could answer, his phone vibrated sharply.

The ringtone shattered the silence.

He glanced at the screen before sliding the phone back into his pocket.

“My men are waiting.”

His gaze settled on me for the briefest moment.

“This is your life now. Adjust.”

With that, he turned away.

Without another glance in my direction, he reached for the driver’s door, pulled it open, and slid inside.

No.

My heart lurched violently.

He couldn’t leave.

Not like this.

Not after everything I’d finally confessed.

Not after I’d ripped open wounds I’d spent years desperately trying to bury.

He couldn’t walk away as though none of it had ever mattered.

Before he could pull away, I rushed to the other side of the car, yanked the passenger door open, and slid into the seat.