“Chiara.” I breathed her name, still hardly believing that she was here. At last. “What happened? How are you here?”
She shrugged. “The indictments are all over. One of the higher ups in the Tempeste organization took a plea deal in exchange for some damaging testimony, which resulted in several other members opting to plea bargain. Basically, the government swept the case, and they didn’t need me any more. So . . . here I am.”
She lifted her head, pinning me with her chocolate eyes, which then narrowed as she surveyed me from head to toe.
She stared. And stared.
And stared.
She sank into one hip, hand on her waist. “Wow. Just . . . uhm, wow.”
“What?” I looked down at my jeans and form-fitting cream button down before raising my head with a smirk.
As we were about the same height and build, Tennyson had lent me a few clothes until I could get my own. Then he said I should just keep the jeans because, ‘Da-yum, you look good.’
Chiara shook her head.
She did this funny dance thing then. Two steps forward and one back. As if she wanted to run into my arms but felt she didn’t have the right.
That didn’t sit well with me. She had the right, and I wanted her to know it. The sooner, the better. If she wouldn’t come to me, I would go to her.
I stalked forward, stopping two feet in front of her. She held her ground, tilting her face up to mine.
She didn’t reach for me.
I wasn’t sure how to take that fact. Was she unsure of us? She had had two weeks of time to mull over her emotions for me.
I sternly told my own hands not to grab her. Take things slowly. Don’t rush. Go at her pace.
My hands bitterly fought me.
I didn’t like this distance—both literal and emotional—between us.
“How are you?” She swallowed. “Tennyson said you’re feeling a lot better.”
“I am, particularly now that you’re here.” I grinned down at her. “I’m glad they set you free. So . . .” My voice trailed off.
“So . . .” Her tone matched mine.
There was so much to discuss. So much I wanted to say.
“I’ve missed you. Have you missed me?” Obviously, I didn’t do subtlety.
“Jack—”
“Yes? That’s what you’re supposed to say, by the way.” I sent my voice several octaves higher. “ ‘Why, yes, Jack Knight-Snow, I have missed you dreadfully. And, by the way, have I mentioned how devilishly handsome you look in these modern clothes?’ ”
“Jack.” Her voice took on a warning edge, though she pressed her lips firmly together, clearly fighting a smile.
I was absurdly proud of that small smile.
She shook her head and folded her arms, looking away. “This isn’t that simple, Jack.” She stared out the window toward the ruined tower.
My heart sank. No. She couldn’t do this to us. Not now. Not after everything.
There would be anus.
“I think really it is,” I countered.
