How am I supposed to keep the promise I made to her—to do this legally—when he marks her like this? How am I expected to be merciful when every part of me wants to peel Matteo’s skin from his bones and watch him choke on his own teeth?
I hear the bathroom door open and turn. Stacy steps out, wiping her damp hands on her jeans, eyes rimmed red.
“She’s… She’s in shock,” she whispers. “She barely said anything. Just that he cornered her and made her promise to go back. She was bleeding everywhere. People were staring and crying out in alarm. It was awful.”
I nod once, jaw locked hard enough to crack teeth. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “For being with her. For not leaving her side.”
She nods, swallowing hard. “I’m staying here tonight. If that’s okay. I’m not leaving her alone.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. Guest room is yours.”
She nods again. “You should go to her. She needs you.”
I inhale slowly. God, I’m not sure I deserve to be near her right now. But I need to see her. I run a hand through my hair, then step past Stacy toward the bathroom.
The shower steam fills the air, fogging the mirror. Briar sits beneath the spray, shoulders curled inward, head bowed. Like she’s trying to disappear inside herself. Her hair is plastered to her cheeks, strands clinging to the dried blood.
Her breath shakes. She doesn’t look up. She doesn’t move.
I stand there watching her break, the fury inside me turning silent and deadly. This is my fault. I should have eliminated him when I had the chance. I thought giving her space meant restraint. But restraint nearly cost her life. I won’t make that mistake again.
I step forward and kneel beside the shower, resting a hand against the glass. I don’t speak yet. Words are useless. They don’tmatter. All that matters now is action. Matteo Romero will never touch her again.
Not in this life.
Not in any next.
Not ever.
TWENTY
BRIAR
I snuggle into Lucien,pressing my face against the warmth of his chest, wanting to feel the heat and hardness of his body—the comfort and security I’ve come to rely on. His arm tightens around me instinctively, pulling me closer, and I breathe in the scent of him, clean soap and something darker, something that feels like home.
But I know I can’t stay.
To remain in this city, to live here in New York, has placed not only me, but now Stacy, in danger. As much as I try to tell myself that none of this was my fault—that I was only a woman who fell in love and married a man before learning the monster he truly was—it doesn’t change the truth.
I can’t let Lucien or his family, or everything he has built, be jeopardized because of me. His family may once have lived in the shadows of New York’s underworld, but they are no longer part of that life. And just to keep me safe, I refuse to allow him to step back into that darkness. Even though I can already see the war inside him—that he wants to. That he’s teetering, debating how he ought to deal with Matteo.
His arm wraps fully around my waist, and he shifts slightly, adjusting me against him.
“You can’t sleep?” His voice is low, threaded with exhaustion and strain.
“I’m tired,” I whisper, “but I can’t seem to turn my mind off.”
I wiggle upward onto his chest so I can see his handsome face. His hair is mussed, his jaw dark with the shadow of a day’s growth, eyes stormy, even in the dim light.
“I think we should go to the police,” I say quietly. “With what Matteo did today, and with him only recently getting out of jail, he’ll be sent straight back. And then I won’t have to worry anymore.”
Not that I’m going to worry much longer anyway, because once we get through the gala for Moretti Global, I’ll be gone. I’ll leave New York, disappear for good, and Matteo Romero will never find me again. I won’t risk anyone else. I won’t let Lucien fight battles that aren’t his.
My chest hurts at the thought of leaving Lucien. I don’t know how it’s happened, but I know I’m falling in love. How could I not be, when he was so sweet, kind and loving, protective and everything a girl would want in a man. Everything I’d dreamed of my whole life.
And I can’t help but feel that he loves me too, as fiercely and passionately as I’ve come to recognize. Even if he’d not yet said the words.
“The police might be able to hold him for a while,” I go on, hopeful, even though I know it’s probably useless.
