The thought shouldn't make me feel possessive, but it does. She's mine now. My wife. The first man to have her, to be inside her, to make her come apart.
God help me, I want to be the fucking last.
I pull on clothes mechanically, my mind already spinning through the logistics of the day ahead. I need to check in with my men, see if there's been any movement from Desmond. Ineed to meet with Ronan and maintain the fiction that I'm still searching for his sister. I need to figure out how to keep all these lies straight while the woman I love sleeps twenty feet away.
When I emerge from the bedroom, I make coffee on autopilot, my hands moving through the familiar motions while my brain refuses to settle. I keep seeing flashes from last night—Annie's face when she came, the way she said my name, the way she trusted me with all of her.
The way she felt wrapped around me, like she was made to fit me perfectly.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't hear her approach until she speaks.
"Morning."
I turn to find her standing in the doorway, wearing the clothes I took off her last night—just a tank top and sleep shorts. I want to strip her bare all over again, have her on the kitchen table. Just the thought is enough to make me hard, and I turn back to the counter for a moment, willing my erection to deflate.Once. We did it once. That’s it.
"Morning." I hand her a mug of coffee when I feel like I have a little more composure, careful to keep my distance. Her hair is a mess, and she's looking at me with an expression I can't quite read. If I touch her right now, I won't be able to stop. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine. A little sore, but fine." She studies my face. "Are you okay?"
No. I'm not okay. I'm in love with my childhood crush, who I just married in a fake ceremony to protect her from a psychopath, and last night I had the best sex of my life with a woman whose brother would kill me if he knew. I'm so far from okay I can't even see it from here.
"I'm fine," I lie.
"Elio, if this is about last night?—"
"Last night was necessary." I force the words out, making my voice flat and emotionless. "You were right. We needed to consummate the marriage to make sure Desmond couldn't annul it. Now we have."
I see hurt flash across her face, and I hate myself for putting it there. But it's better this way. Better to put distance between us now, before I do something stupid like tell her I love her and beg her to make this marriage real. To tell Ronan we’re going to be together whether he likes it or not.
If she begged him, would he let it stand? Ronan loves his family more than anything else in the world. If he knew it would cause Annie pain to lose me, would he still kill me for touching her? Or would he tell her that I used her, seduced her, and that she’ll understand one day?
I want to think he wouldn’t let Annie go through the pain of seeing someone she loves die. Knowing it was because of what we did.
But maybe she doesn’t love me. Maybe she feels something for me—desire, caring, nostalgia—but wouldn’t fight to make this real.
“Right,” she says quietly, sinking into a chair.
I turn away before she can see my face. "I'm going to check in with my men. Make sure there's been no movement from Desmond. You should stay inside today. Rest. There’s some food in the refrigerator you can heat up for meals."
"Okay." Her voice is toneless.
I head for the door, and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to turn around, pull her into my arms, and tell her the truth. But I don't. I walk out into the cold morning air and get in my car, putting distance between myself and the woman who's become everything to me.
The woman I'm going to have to let go.
—
The meetingwith Ronan is at ten, at the mansion. I'm running on no sleep and too much coffee, and I feel like I'm walking into an execution.
Ronan is standing at the window when I arrive. He looks haggard, older. Grief and worry have carved lines into his face.
And I'm the cause of it. Annie and I—but I’m the one going along with this. The one letting her dig a deeper and deeper hole with every day that passes—a hole that’s probably going to end up being my grave.
"Elio." He turns when I enter, and I see the shadows under his eyes. "Tell me you have good news."
"Still nothing concrete." The lie comes easier than it should. "But I have men following several leads. I think we're getting close."
"You've been saying that for days." There's an edge to his voice that wasn't there before. "Meanwhile, my sister is still missing. No contact, no ransom, nothing."
