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She holds the key out to me on her open palm. “I can’t accept it.”

I lean closer, saying softly enough for her family not to hear, “Nothing about my gift or last night is inappropriate. You have no idea just how appropriate it is.” Closing my hand around hers, I lock her fingers on the key. “Enjoy the ride, Sabella.” I cup her nape, drag her closer, and take the kiss that’s my right. My due. My goodbye until I put a ring on her finger. I press my parting words in a whisper against her ear. “Take care of my mark. Let me know if it gets infected. I’ll send a doctor to have a look.”

She leans back, straining in my hold while staring up at me with big, wild eyes. If she’s scared I’ll give away her secret, she doesn’t need to worry. I may not like being the dirt she sweeps under the carpet, but I never break my word.

“Happy birthday,” I say, the normal volume intended for everyone.

The bellboy comes out with our bags. “Are these yours, sir?”

Sabella turns red, but she doesn’t break our eye contact. She lets me shadow her, concealing the truth that’s written on her face from her family.

Probably sensing the tenseness in the atmosphere, the bellboy leaves the bags on the pavement and slips back into the hotel.

I hold her gaze as I pick up my bag. Letting her go takes every ounce of willpower I possess.

Five months.

That’s what I tell myself. Five months, and she’ll have a pretty summer wedding.

Me, I’ll have everything.

Not sparing her family another glance, I walk away before I do something she’ll regret, something like stealing her last five months of freedom.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

Sabella

Angelo walks away with long, powerful strides, angry strides, and gets into a car. We stare after the sleek Jaguar as he takes off with screeching tires and turns onto the road that leads to the airport.

I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to face up to the people who turn their gazes on me like one man.

Ryan’s voice is quiet. “Did he bother you?”

Bother is a light way of putting it. Shame heats my cheeks. They can never know what happened, that I slept with the man who betrayed me and stole a part of my dad’s company. That’s not only weak but also despicable. I wounded my dad when I let Angelo into our house. I don’t want to hurt him again. I’ll never live down the humiliation if anyone finds out Angelo and I had sex—repeatedly—and that I’m branded like property. Like an animal or a slave.

“Sabella?” Ryan says, taking a step toward me.

Celeste shifts to the edge of the bench, all eyes and ears.

“No,” I say, heaping on the lies.

“What the fuck did he want?” Colin asks.

Celeste dumps the plastic cup with the Starbucks logo she clutches in the trash. “Language, Colin, please. I think we’ve had enough unpleasantness this morning.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Seriously, what did he want, Bella?”

“You heard him.” I wave at the ridiculously expensive car. “He brought me a birthday gift.”

“He came all the way from Corsica to give you the key for a car he had delivered?” Colin asks, clearly not buying it.

“That’s what it looks like,” I say.

Colin flexes his jaw. “That’s it?”

“Look, I ran into him on my way out,” I say. “Just like you. What else do you want me to say?” I’m going straight to hell.

“Why would he give you a car?” Colin glances at Ryan. “Don’t you think that’s fucking weird?”

“Language,” Celeste sing-songs.

Ryan grabs a suitcase and loads it into the trunk. “Who the hell knows? The guy is the personification of weird.”

“But don’t you think—” Colin starts.

“Let it go, Colin,” Ryan says, slamming the trunk shut.

The harshness of his voice startles not only me but also Celeste and Colin. Colin stares at him with parted lips, looking as if he’d like to say more, but when he takes a breath to speak, Ryan cuts him short.

“What do you want to do with the car, Bella?”

I watch my brother, trying to read him. His face is blank. Why do I get the impression he’s hiding something? He doesn’t want Colin to ask those questions. Shouldn’t Ryan be asking the same questions? Not that I’m complaining about being let off the hook.

“I’ll drive it,” I say.

“Are you sure?” Ryan asks. “Sports cars can be tricky until you get used to them.”

“It’s a Ferrari.” I pick up my bag. “They’re all automatic. I’ll manage.”

“I’ll go with her,” Colin says.

Ryan nods. “We’ll follow you.”

Colin takes my bag from me and loads it in the trunk while I adjust the mirrors and the seat. When he’s buckled up, I pull out of the parking lot and head toward the highway.

“You missed the brunch,” Colin says.

“I said I would.”

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