“Hi!” I chirp, forcing brightness into my expression. “We ran out of milk, and I desperately want a hot chocolate—so I’m just running out to grab some.” The lie slips off my tongue easily.
The man frowns. “I can call someone to—”
“No!” I cut him off too quickly, then soften my voice. “No, it’s fine. I won’t be long.”
He hesitates. “I should call Enzo.”
I wave him off, aiming for nonchalance. “I’ll be five minutes. He’s busy in his office, no need to disturb him.”
Eventually, he nods.
And then I’m gone.
25
I Won't Be Letting Her Go
I’m lost without you. —Izzy
Enzo
Ineedtofixthings. But I don’t know how.
Her words play on an endless loop in my mind.
I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven years old.
My heart fucking beats for you.
She loves me.
I don’t know why it’s so surprising, but it is. I’ve always assumed that my feelings were unrequited. How could a woman as perfect as her love a man as scarred—asbroken—as me?
“Iz,” I call out, resting my head against her bedroom door.
No answer.
“Iz,” I call again, a little more frantic.
It’s been hours since she ran out of my office and I locked myself away, unable to face her.
Still no answer.
I try the door. The knob turns in my hand. It opens to reveal her room empty. The phone I gave her lies on the bed.
“Fuck!”
My feet pound against the floor as I fly back to my office, pulling open the security feed.
There she is. A backpack strung over her shoulder as she stops to chat to Paulo, my secondary receptionist. He looks uncertain, but then she’s gone, slipping out into the night. She left. She left me.
I didn’t even get a chance to tell her that I love her too. That I always have.
Anger burns through my veins that she’s being so reckless. Lucas is still out there. So is Marcus Whitfield. She’s not safe.
I hit call.
“Mr. Russo?” Paulo greets on the other end of the phone.
