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My eyes snap to his, and I let him see how much he hurt me.
I see my pain reflect on his face as he says, “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I press my palm to my heart. “I understand why you were angry. I even understand why you didn’t believe me. What I’m struggling with is that you pointed a loaded weapon at me.”
He nods, guilt tightening his features. “What I did was unforgivable, but I never would’ve pulled the trigger.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
He shakes his head, then glances around us before looking at me again. “It’s not safe here. Can we please go home?”
I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “How will I be any safer in your house?”
“Our house,” he corrects me, then adds, “Misha will be there.”
My shoulders slump, and I lower my gaze to my hands, where his ring is still on my finger. “What’s going on?”
“Someone is targeting me.” Armani climbs to his feet and holds his hand out to me.
I hesitate before laying my palm in his. He pulls me up, and before I find my balance, I’m yanked to his chest, and his arms wrap around me.
“Don’t,” I gasp as the heartache fills my chest.
He presses a kiss to my hair. “I’m sorry, amore mia. Please give me a chance to fix what I’ve broken.”
I push against his chest, and I feel his reluctance when he lets me go.
“I need time,” I mutter.
“I’ll give you all the time you need. Just come home with me.”
I might be angry with him, but it doesn’t stop me from nodding.
We walk back to where Misha is watching us from the hostel. When we reach him, I say, “I have to get my luggage.”
They follow me to the room, and I notice the pained expression on Armani’s face when he sees where I slept last night.
He comes to take the bag from me, and then I’m ushered out of the hostel.
By the time we get home, it’s already dark, and we’re all exhausted. I slept a little on the train, but it didn’t help much.
I quickly prepare the guest room for Misha, then go to the kitchen to make coffee.
Seeing the broken cup and mess on the floor, I grab paper towels and wet them beneath the tap.
“I’ll clean up,” Armani says as he comes into the kitchen.
He takes the towels from me, and crouching by my feet, he cleans the floor. I’m just about to take a step back, when he grabs hold of my hip. Moving onto his knees, he presses his forehead to my abdomen.
“I’m sorry, bella,” he breathes before pressing a kiss to the area where our baby is growing.
I’m just about to place my hand on his head when Misha enters the kitchen, muttering, “Don’t forgive him.”
I turn away from Armani and take three cups from the cupboard.
Armani continues to clean the mess on the floor, discards the towels in the trash, then looks at Misha. “Let’s talk in the living room.”
My eyes dart to the men as they leave the kitchen, and I start to worry whether they’re going to fight.
When their coffee is ready, I carry the cups to the living room and hear Armani say, “I know there’s no excuse for what I did, but I lost my mind thinking she was with another man. What would you do if it were Aurora?”
I pause in the hallway and shamelessly eavesdrop.
“As your friend, I get where you’re coming from. But as Tiana’s brother, I’m fucking pissed.”
“I understand,” Armani replies.
I roll my eyes and walk into the living room. “Everybody understands everything. Here’s your coffee.” I set it on the table and walk right out of the room again.
Everybody understands, so things just have to be okay again.
I rush into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Pressing my back to it, I sink down to my butt while trying to fight the tears.
It still hurts.
I can’t just erase all the feelings.
I can’t just forget the way Armani looked at me.
I can’t just forget that for one night, he didn’t love me.
It was so easy for him to go from loving to hating me. I could never do that to him.
Even when I thought he was chasing me to kill me, I still loved him.
I would’ve loved him even if he had shot me.
With my dying breath.
Chapter 40
Armani
It’s almost midnight, and Tiana is still sitting in the living room, pretending to watch TV.
Misha went to bed a while ago, and I’m sitting way too far from my wife, who’s not giving me the time of day.
I get why, though. She has all the right in the world to be angry with me.
I’ll grovel for the rest of my life, if that’s what it takes, but I’ll win her back.
