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Perfection.
And why is it so beautiful here? Paris at dusk, silhouetted in velvety blue, is stunning.
I sit in the passenger seat of the car he drives—a gorgeous, armored Ferrari he had custom designed, no doubt with help from their friends the Rossis in America. Everyone in Europe knows about Mario Rossi’s affinity for stunning, insanely expensive cars.
I remember when he talked with Mario. I remember when he told me all about the car, in vivid detail, his eyes shining and proud, almost boyish. Unlike how he is these days.
He used to be a lot more carefree. But that was back when we liked each other. Maybe even loved each other.
I miss that Lyam.
I shut my eyes because hot tears blind my vision and I’d rather die than let him see me cry and know he won. I take in a deep breath and get my shit together, then let it out slowly as I gaze out at elegant buildings and glowing streetlamps.
“Funny how life works,” he says, almost thoughtfully. “I always wanted to show you my place in Paris. And now here we are.”
I exhale a shaky breath. If he only knew the half of it.
“Here we are.”
I expect him to go on about rules and expectations and how he hates me. I expect him to tell me I’m his prisoner, under his command, and blah blah blah. Maybe smack his chest like the animal he is and growl his ownership of me, or whatever it is he’s told himself he deserves because of what I did.
If only he knew…
A part of me hopes hedoespunish me.
I never meant to betray the Gerard family. They’re the only family I have. I hate the guilt that weighs me down, the knowledge that I hurt people who cared for me. I hate the pain of their rejection.
I swipe discreetly at my tears thatwillfall as I continue to stare out at the night through watery eyes, trying to ignore him. I’m not so much interested in what’s out the window so much as I’m trying to make sure I don’t look athim.
If I do, I might love him again.
I canfeelhim, though. Beside me. And there’s nothing he could ever do that would make me forget.
The nights of passion. The late-night hookups. Our rendezvous at Le Luxe. The hours we spent confiding in one another, sharing our hopes and dreams and regrets. The midnight sex and passion a girl could only ever dream of.
It’s how I got into this predicament to begin with.
Someone knew, though. Someone saw. And someone used my love for him against us.
I flinch when he speaks, his voice as harsh as a slap. “Why did you do it?”
I look at him in surprise at first, wondering if he’s asking why I fell in love with him.
But no. Of course that isn’t it. He may be many things, but he isn’t a mind reader.
He wants to know why I chose to betray him and his family.
I snort, trying to feign disdain. “Maybe they paid me. Maybe I needed the money.”
I’ve always been a terrible liar.
He snorts. “Liar.”
And he’s always been able to suss me out.
That’s honestly what I’m afraid of.
I look back out the window and try to put up a wall between us. I can’t, though. I can feel the tension between us, and I know it isn’t just the knowledge of what I did. It runs so much deeper than that.
