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I watched as she dabbed the check with the table cloth, trying and failing to dry the butter. I reached into my pocket, pulled out her panties I’d pocketed earlier, and tossed them at her face.
She caught them before they hit the ground. Her eyes widened when she realized what they were, but she used them to dab the fucking check anyway.
I’d never seen anything more pathetic.
With the check dried, she met my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, sounding so stupid, I couldn’t believe she’d graduated top of our class at Wharton. Couldn’t believe this was the woman who’d insisted she pay for her half of every meal. “I-I… You don’t understand. It’s a lot of money.”
“You would have had so much more, so thank you for reminding me how pathetic you are.”
She flinched at my words, and I let loose a dry laugh and reached into my pocket. Her eyes widened when I pulled out the velvet case.
She had to reach out and steady herself on the table when I unleashed the sixteen-million-dollar ring inside.
“Bastian—”
I plucked the ring out of its case and tossed it over the side of the building like it meant nothing.
Like she meant nothing.
She whimpered, running to the railing with an outstretched hand as I stole a fry from her plate and dipped it in her fucking generic-brand ketchup.
If I took the time to stop—to breathe in the betrayal from her and my dad—I would probably burn the Empire State Building with both of us in it.
It wasn’t toxic rage filling my veins but bruising betrayal, inching its way to my throat until my breaths halved, and I had to cough to breath again.
She returned to the table, the ring long gone, and the torn and buttered check clutched between her white-knuckled fingers, like she thought I would toss that off the building, too.
I was tempted.
I’d never loved anyone before. I saw past thinly veiled advances and the mafia bunnies who wanted me for my money and status. But Elsa was different.
The wholesome girl from the wholesome family who never knew a world of corrupt Senators, Made Men, celebrities, penthouses, and designer clothes existed.
Untouched by the Romano syndicate I was heir to.
She’d inched her way beneath my skin, little by little, and I’d let her because she was supposed to be different.
How hadn’t I seen the signs?
She opened her mouth again—probably to beg—but I cut her off.
“I never loved you, Elsa.” The lie tore past my lips, unapologetic as I ignored the fact that I would have given up everything—my family, money, and the entire Romano lineage—for her. “We were good for a bit, but it was just entertainment.” I stood, wiped the tear off her cheek with her butter-stained panties, and patted her head. “You’re not capable of providing anything other than a warm cunt to fuck, and I’m not capable of love.”
Chapter
Two
Duty is what one expects from others.
OSCAR WILDE
BASTIANO ROMANO
Eight Years Later
Everett: I have career day for summer school. Billy is bringing his dad. Can you come?
