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“Regret is a waste of time.”
He faces me, his brow furrowed. “Regret? I don’t regret what just happened, Millie.”
“Then what?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I regret that I can’t save you. That I put you in this mess.”
I roll my eyes. “I put myself in this mess. I knew my life would change the moment I agreed to come home. You didn’t do this to me. And I don’t need you to save me.”
It’s time I save myself. To hell with the consequences.
32
Salvatore
Knowing we’ve been missing long enough, I press the button to unlock the elevator. Milana smooths out her dress and fixes her hair and lipstick the best she can, still looking freshly fucked. She pulls it off well.
“You won’t belong to him forever,” I vow.
“Only until death do us part.”
His, not hers. The sooner, the fucking better. I need to move things along. I’ve been patient long enough. Knowing he’s with her, has plans to marry her, well…that changes things. My timeline went from years to only months. Maybe weeks.
“Do you trust me, Millie?”
“Trusting you won’t change anything. Stefano has all the power.”
The doors open. Her father stands there, his eyes narrow accusingly as she steps out and walks right past him. The tension between them is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. He should chase after her. Try to make amends.
“Mr. Genovese.”
He steps inside the elevator and waits until the doors close before letting me have it.
“It wreaks of sex in here! What the fuck were you thinking putting your hands on my daughter?”
“As opposed to my father doing it?”
We shouldn’t hate people. I know that. Doesn’t mean I don’t fucking despise this man with every part of my being.
“You started this whole thing, Salvatore. You don’t get to be upset when things go exactly the wayyouwanted them to.”
“She shouldn’t have been part of this! How could you give her up so easily?”
He shakes his head, his expression saddened. “You should be asking yourself that.”
I am. Every single day. I did this. I won her, knowing I was playing for him the entire time. I’m one hundred percent to blame.
“Are the documents completed?” he asks, referring to the real docs the attorney drafted.
“Yes.”
“And the fakes?”
“In his safe. Listen, when this is all said and done, business between us is over. Don’t come back to the casino. Don’t come near me at all.”
“That wasn’t the agreement.”
No, it wasn’t. He’s played his part. The new identity the attorney needed came from Riccardo’s connections. Doesn’t mean I want to continue business with him.
