“I paid for some things. Consider it a thank you for—”
“A thank you? Vin, you paid five years of rent! You bought tens of thousands of dollars of equipment! You set up accounts and services and—” She breaks off. “Why?”
Because I love you. Because I want to take care of you. Because I said I’d protect you. Because I’m sorry.
“I owe you,” I say instead. “You kept me safe. Fed me. This is me settling the debt.”
“I don’t want your debt settled. I want—” She stops herself. “I want you to take it all back.”
“Can’t do that. It’s done.”
“Then I won’t use any of it.”
“Yes, you will.” I grip the steering wheel with my free hand. “You’ll use every fucking cent of it because you deserve it. Because you’re talented and brilliant and you should have the best kitchen in the city to cook in. You’re going to open this restaurant and you’re going to be successful and you’re going to—”
“Stop.” Her voice breaks. “Just… stop.”
Silence stretches between us, heavy and painful.
“Where are you?” she asks finally.
“Why?”
“Because I’m looking out the window of my new apartment, and I see a black SUV across the street that’s been there for 20 minutes.”
Fuck. I could go up there right now, tell her everything, do this the right way. But I don’t trust myself to do what I have to do if I’m near her, if I can touch her, kiss her, fuck her. Keep her.
“Vin?”
I hang up the phone and drive away.
48
Sophie
The morning light burns my eyes. I’ve been lying here for hours, or maybe days, watching the sun creep across my bedroom ceiling. The shadows shift and lengthen, marking time I can’t account for. My phone buzzes on the nightstand for the third time in 10 minutes, and I know without looking that it’s Siena.
I should answer.
But the weight pressing down on my chest won’t let me move. It’s not physical weight, but it’s there all the same, heavy as concrete, pinning me to sheets that still smell like him.
I hate that part of me doesn’t want to wash the pillowcase. Erasing the last physical proof that Vincenzo Demonio was ever in my bed sounds like the worst pain.
You never were my queen.
My phone buzzes again. Siena’s name lights up the screen, and this time it doesn’t stop. She’s calling and calling and calling, relentless.
I reach for it with a hand that feels disconnected from my body.
“Sophie.” Her voice comes through sharp with worry. “Finally. I’ve been calling you for 20 minutes.”
“I know.” My voice sounds hollow. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Are you okay?”
Am I okay? A laugh bubbles up. “Define okay.”
Silence stretches between us. When Siena speaks again, her voice is a sharp whisper. “I’m going to kill him.”
