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“Life is complex,” he said. “Relationships are complex.”
Alex lifted his glass in a toast, a cynical smile curving his lips. “Welcome to the Di Siones. The most dysfunctional clan on the planet.”
Something shifted inside of Nate as he touched his glass to his brother’s. A hope, perhaps, that the future could be different.
“When do I get to meet Mina?”
“I’m not sure that’s going to happen.” He set his glass down and flicked his brother a glance. “She’s on a plane to Paris as we speak.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“You got all night?”
His brother nodded toward the Scotch. “Why do you think I got a bottle?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MINA FIGURED GLADIATORS were allowed to cry if they had a really, really good reason for it.
Walking away from the man you loved while he stood there and watched you do it seemed worthy enough, particularly when the end of your affair had driven home how very deluded you were. How the emotions you’d been so convinced the man in question felt for you had been nothing more than a display of honor on his part, the very same honor he’d been demonstrating from the beginning. And weren’t you stupid to have thought it was more than that?
She had done the right thing, she told herself on the long flight from New York to Paris on which she’d miraculously been upgraded, her husband’s influence no doubt. She had tried to see the practicality of remaining married to Nate that last week with him, putting her head down at work and burying herself in her assignments. But watching Nate struggle to pretend he was happy about becoming a father and permanent husband when it was so clearly anathema to him had been too painful to stand.
She would get over Nate in time. But if she’d stayed, he would have claimed more and more of her soul every day, until he’d had all of her. Until it would have been impossible for her to leave. Both of them would have begun to hate each other for what they wanted and could never have.
She thought she’d pretty much gotten herself together by the time Celia picked her up at the airport and drove her home to her beautiful, old apartment in the heart of Paris. But after her best friend had demanded a full recap, the tears had started anew.
“Don’t waste any more time on him,” Celia had stated in that blunt, very French way of hers. “Men are like seasons. They come and they go. I have my book club this week. Read the book, enjoy some good gossip and it will be all better.”
Mina read the book, lounged on Celia’s sofa and ate copious amounts of cheese and crackers to keep the nausea at bay. By the time the book club was assembled in Celia’s tiny salon on Monday, crowded into every remaining space, she was doing a better job at hiding her heartbreak.
Brigitte, the last remaining member of the group, was arriving late from a work event. When the buzzer went off at seven, Celia opened the door, still talking, her words dying on her lips when she saw who it was. The blood drained from Mina’s face.
“This is a book club,” Celia said to Nate, recovering faster than Mina did. “No men allowed.”
Nate blinked. “What book are you reading?”
“The Age of Innocence.”
“Can’t help you there.” He pointed the bouquet of fresh flowers he held at Mina. “I was hoping I could take you for dinner.”
Dinner? He had somehow materialized in Paris and wanted her to go to dinner with him? She stared at the man she’d cried too many tears over, dark and dangerous in jeans and a leather jacket.
Swallowing hard, she found her voice. “I’m afraid I’m not in the market for a knight in shining armor.”
His gaze speared hers. “How about a man who deeply regrets watching the best thing that’s ever happened to him walk out of his life? Who wants to replay this from the beginning, this time for real? No one saving anyone, Mina, no Hollywood reenactments, just the raw, unadulterated truth.”
Her breath caught in her throat. The girl beside her set her paperback down. “This is better than the book.”
“You don’t want him,” the beautiful blonde on her other side murmured, “I’ll take him.”
That brought Mina to her feet. She collected her wrap from the sofa and crossed the room to Nate on legs that felt like spaghetti. He’d missed a button on his shirt, heavy dark stubble covered his jaw and the slightly askew, spiky hairstyle he wore looked a bit...undone.
Her heart squeezed. Nate handed the flowers to Celia with his most charming smile. “Would you?”
“Oui,” she said curtly, giving him a long look. “You hurt her. I hurt you.”
Nate captured Mina’s hand in his in the car that sat waiting for them at the entrance. Guard your heart, she told herself. You haven’t heard what he has to say yet. But the tense, hard line of her husband’s jaw kept her palm in his. She had never seen Nate nervous. Ever.
