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Eris, unfazed, stepped closer.
“Remy, ask yourself this about me, am I here because I want to be? Do you think my life’s goal was to force some mafia prince into a marriage that neither of us wants to be in? Do you think this is the life I dreamed about as a little girl?” she asked sarcastically.
“It isn’t. And now I’m fighting for the life I want, just like you are. The only difference is that behind me is a mad man who will burn the world down to get what he wants. Your mad man is dead. So, unless you get with the program and meet me halfway on this, blood will rain down. Not mine. Not yours. But everyone you care about.
“Do you want that? From the way you’re staring at me, I’m going to assume you don’t. So, stop putting everyone you care about at risk, and help me plan our wedding,” she continued with eerie calmness.
“There are millions of arranged marriages that end happily ever after. Help me make ours one of them… so your friend back there doesn’t have to die.”
As Dillon returned from the kitchen with Eris’s drink, he noticed that my demeanor had completely changed. It was as if a shadow had come over me, the weight of Eris’s words suffocating my spirit.
I looked at Dillon knowing what Eris had said was true. The men who crossed our fathers ended up dead. Like mine, her father was a hurricane, a force of nature that couldn’t be stopped, only weathered.
I needed to protect Dillon from that storm. I was willing to do anything for it. So, erasing any trace of the affection I felt for him, I stared at him coldly and said, “Dillon, you should leave.”
His body melted at my abrupt change. Pain spilled from his eyes. Seeing it destroyed me. But I had to remain detached – I couldn’t let Eris know how much he mattered to me. I couldn’t give her any more leverage.
“Dillon,” I repeated, feeling a sharp sting in my chest as I spoke. “Just go. We can talk later.”
As he hesitated, I added, with a steely edge, “Now!”
That was when he lowered his eyes, turned to the door, and left leaving me shattered in pieces.
Chapter 9
Dillon
The sun was setting over Brooklyn as I left Remy’s townhouse far behind. Heading towards the train station, my footsteps were weighed down by the crushing ache in my chest. The air was unseasonably crisp for late spring, but the cold did nothing to chill the heat that ripped through me.
Why had I allowed Remy to do this to me again? I had fallen into that same trap, exposing my vulnerable heart to the same person who had torn it to shreds before. What broken part of me kept putting myself in this situation?
Hil had warned me about Remy. He had said that Remy would go back to his mafia world, and he had. Hell, he was marrying into it.
Hil also said that Remy would hurt me. Not only had Hil been right about that, but after Remy had done it the first time, I had turned around and had let him do it again. I was an idiot who deserved everything I got.
There was no wonder my own father ran away from me. Even he could see how much of a mess I was. I didn’t deserve anything more.
As stupid as I was, though, I had finally learned my lesson. Never again would I give Remy another opportunity to treat me like he had. I got it; the outreach center was important. There were real lives it could affect.
Talking with Leo had shown me that. And being able to make amends meant more to Remy than I could ever have imagined. So I would help him. But that was it. I was done with whatever emotional game Remy was playing.
From this point forward, we were going to be colleagues. Nothing more. If he thought he could hurt me and get away with it, he was about to learn that I could hurt him right back.
I refused to need him. At least not anymore. I was done. I really was. And as the finality of it slowly sank in, tears rolled down my cheeks.
Boarding the same train on which I had decided to work with Remy, I ended my foolish childhood fantasy. Remy and I weren’t made to be together. We weren’t even destined to be friends.
I was fated to be alone. I always had been. And as the glow of burnt oranges receded behind the towering downtown buildings, I sank into the seat of the train and cried.
The following morning, I woke up with a renewed sense of determination. I had spent all night mentally preparing myself to face Remy, to show him that I could be just as cold and detached as he had been the day before. As I showered and dressed, my resolve strengthened. I began looking forward to the confrontation.
Arriving at work, I strode in ready for the day with my head held high. Surprisingly, Remy’s office door was closed. The room lay still and silent. There was no sign of him anywhere.
I shook off my disappointment and focused on the tasks at hand. Busying myself with watering the plants and dusting the shelves, I checked the clock every few minutes. Surely Remy would arrive soon, and then I could put my plan into action.
But as the hours ticked by, the gnawing fear in my gut grew larger. Could Remy be avoiding me just like my father had done all those years ago? A thunder-clap of pain shot through my chest. It hurt more than when Remy had asked me to leave.
Slowly, the cold exterior I had been practicing crumbled. My once steadfast resolve now seemed foolish and hollow. I was simply incapable of hurting Remy like he hurt me.
