“I got you this time,” she said.
Scarlett stood behind me, a look I couldn’t decipher on her face. Her skin glowed white in the darkness, though there was more of a gold tint. She had been out in the sun.
Narrowing my eyes, I looked her up and down. Her dress fell right below the knees. The crimson fabric sufficiently covered her until her waist, and then it opened up, exposing a good bit of skin.
“Yeah,” I said. “You got me.”
“Did you forget something?” She drew a line between us with her heeled foot. “A shirt? A jacket?”
“You could say that.”
She nodded, striding down the street toward home. Following, I caught up with her in two long strides. We were midway there when I told her to stop. She did, turning to glare at me.
“We need to talk.”
She shoved a hand out. “Talk.”
I sensed what she didn’t say.Go ahead,waste your breath,I’ve taken your shit for the last time.
I had a sudden vision of a line across a monitor, the ups and downs of a beating heart registering, and then the sharp hill of a heartbeat right before the flatline. Where I was on the monitor—one beat away from life or death.
“You cancelled.”
“The wedding?”
“Yeah, the wedding.”
“Why don’t you ask Luca,” she shrugged. “He seems to know everything.” Her words came with an easy tongue—no heat, no snap, all cordialness.
“Maggie Beautiful told you.”
“No,” she laughed, condescending. “She didn’t have to. You do it every time you’re unsure of yourself. But she must have told you about Olivier or you wouldn’t be here.”
I hated how her tongue wrapped around his fucking name, breathy and so fluid.
“Yeah, she did. She was worried.”
“Makes sense.” She twisted her mouth up in a wry grin. “You came because of him. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me either.”
“No one else can have you. You’re mine.”
She had hidden her hand when we were walking, so I had no idea if she wore his ring or mine. If she wore his ring, the world was going to burn. Starting with the French mansion that belonged to Nemours and his family.
“That’s really none of your business.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not anymore.”
I laughed, nothing hilarious about it. “You’ll always be my business.” I sighed, sounding like a real bastard. “The statement ‘this is over’ never came from my mouth. I would never utter those words, not even in death with you holding the handle to the knife sticking in my heart.”
Taking a few steps toward me, she looked me right in the eye and said, “What does he tell you? Before I walk away, I have to know. What does he say to you? Tellmewhat Lucious Fausti says that can resonate when nothing else in this world can.”
“The truth,” I answered.
“The truth, is it?” She looked to the ground for a moment, thinking. “Do you love me, Brando?”
“Più della mia stessa vita.”
“More than your own life.” She lifted a thick eyebrow, much darker than her hair even when in the sun, and let it drop. “If you really love me, you’ll tell me what he told you.”
“You want me to repeat his words. All right. He tells me I’m just like him. That I’m going to hurt you and you’ll end up just like Maggie Beautiful—barhopping, sleeping with so many men in search of one that’ll really love you. I’ll knock you up and then leave you. What kind of father can I be? I never had one.Bastardo. I refused him. Therefore, I’m not good enough to walk this earth.”
