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“Oh good,” I snapped. “I’m glad you finally got your shit together. Yes, let’s pick up right where we left off.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. “So fucking romantic.Baby, I’m okay with you being raped now. Let’s make some babies…”
He closed his eyes as he cringed. “This is not how I wanted this conversation to go—”
“This conversation shouldn’t have happened in the first place. You had your chance, and you blew it, Victor.”
“Look, I’m willing to leave the business behind to start over with you. If you want to live in Paris, that’s fine with me. If you want to move to Greece, I don’t care. I don’t give a damn where we live—”
“Never going to happen, Victor. Accept my answer.”
He looked away, giving a quiet sigh in irritation. “So, you’ll date a kingpin, a guy who’s done unspeakable things, but my actions are simply unforgivable?”
“You were my husband, Victor.”
“And I was young. And stupid. Forgive me.”
“Victor—”
“Forgive me.”
“I’m not obligated to sacrifice my feelings for yours. You think you’ve suffered? It’s nothing compared to what I’ve been through. Nothing compared to the years of therapy that cost me a small fortune.”
He looked away again, and when the light hit his eyes, it showed the shine on the surface. It showed the small pool that had formed there, the pain that he kept below the surface. He blinked, and it vanished like it’d never been there.
“But I forgive you.” The words tumbled out on their own. To my surprise, I actually felt better, felt lighter.
He looked at me, and his eyes were still in shock. He didn’t blink. Didn’t take a breath. “Thank you.”
* * *
When I returned to the house, Bartholomew was in his office. I could tell he was on the phone because his deep voice drifted down the hallway, and his tone was serious, like he was taking care of business.
I grabbed my things and started to pack.
He walked in moments later, in nothing but dark sweatpants that hung low on his hips, looking hot as fuck as usual. His beard was already coming in even though he’d just shaved. It was a shadow, but in another day, his entire chin would be covered. He looked at me in his special way, in a way that other men had tried to recreate but could only poorly imitate. His gaze was powerful, commanding my body without saying a single word. His eyes bored into mine as he drew close, asking me questions that he never spoke.
“I smoothed everything over.”
He continued to stare.
“Just steer clear of him and his men.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem—as long as they don’t touch my woman.” He walked to the bar and poured himself a drink, his muscular back to me, oblivious to the way my legs had just softened into jelly. He tilted his head back and took a big drink before he wiped his mouth on the back of his forearm. “You were gone a long time.”
My heart stiffened in my chest. Everything stiffened.
He looked at me when I didn’t say anything.
“Victor asked me to coffee.”
His stare was hard as stone, his thoughts impossible to decipher. “What did he want?”
“To check on me, I guess.”
“And he thinks that’s his responsibility because…?” His tone didn’t change, but that stare was unsettling.
“He knows my relationship with my father is tense.”
He approached me, his bare feet on the hardwood then the rug surrounding the bed. He grew taller the closer he came, and then he cast me in his shadow. “I don’t need another man checking on my woman. Should I tell him that myself, or would you like to handle it?”
