But Eva shakes her head, and there’s no anger in her face. Just that terrible, gentle sadness that scares me more than her cold mask ever did.
“We could keep our relationship secret—just between us,” I say, the words tumbling out in my desperation. “I could travel quietly to see you, no one would have to know?—”
“They would know,” Eva murmurs. “And you’re already a target. You’ve been one since the moment I bought you at that auction. And that’s on me.”
I think of tonight’s attack, of the blood on Eva’s temple, of how easily I could be sitting next to a corpse instead of a living woman. But I push the thought away, because admitting Eva’s right means losing her, and I can’t bear that.
“We could be more careful,” I try again. “More security, more discretion?—”
“Robin.” Eva’s amber eyes are soft, patient. “Do you know what I thought about tonight, when those bullets were flying?”
I shake my head, afraid to hear the answer.
“I thought about you in that car with me. And I thought about your family, too. What would it be like if they were caught in crossfire meant for me?” She takes a slow, sad breath before saying, “I can’t live with that. I won’t.”
The room falls silent except for the distant sounds of the hospital. I stare at our joined hands, fighting back tears.
“There has to be a way,” I whisper.
Eva reaches up with her free hand to cup my cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t realize had escaped. “I love you, Robin.”
My breath stutters. The words I’ve been longing to hear, delivered like a death sentence.
“I’ve fallen in love with you, too,” I say, my voice breaking. “I love you so much it terrifies me. I can’t…I don’t know how to let you go.”
For a moment, Eva’s composure cracks. Her eyes glisten. “I love you so very much, little bird.”
Hope flares in my chest. If we love each other, if we both want this, surely we can find a way?—
“That’s why this has to end.”
The hope dies as quickly as it was born.
“No,” I insist. “No, we can figure this out. We can find a compromise. Please, Eva, we can?—”
Eva squeezes my hand. “If anything happened to you because of me—because of my world—I’d never forgive myself.” Her voice is barely audible. “I’d rather lose you and know you’re safe than keep you and watch the darkness destroy everything beautiful about you.”
We stay like that for a long moment, breathing the same air, sharing the same space one last time.
When Eva pulls her hand away, the moment breaks. “I’m going back to Europe. You’re staying here. The money’s already in your account, as I said—ten million. You’re free.”
The clinical way she says it, like we’re dissolving a business partnership instead of ripping our hearts out, makes everything worse. I’d almost prefer her cruelty to this gentle devastation.
“I don’t want your money,” I say, my voice thick with tears. “I wantyou.”
“And I want you alive.” Eva’s voice is steady, final. “I want you safe. I want your brothers and sisters to grow up without looking over their shoulders for threats that exist because of me.”
I know she’s right. God help me, I know she’s right. The attack tonight proved what I’ve been trying to ignore—Eva’s world doesn’t have room for kindergarten teachers and sick little girls and teenagers who just want to finish high school. Her enemies don’t distinguish between guilty and innocent. They’ll hurt my family and me to hurt her, and she’ll blame herself forever.
But knowing she’s right doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“I can’t do this,” I say tearily. “I can’t say goodbye to you.”
“Then don’t,” Eva says softly. “Just go. Live your life. Be happy.”
I want to argue more, to find some magical solution that lets us have love without consequences. But the pragmatic part of my mind—the part that’s kept my family alive this long—knows that Eva is right. This has to end before someone else I love gets killed because of it.
I rise on shaky legs.
