I flinch.
There it is again.
Mine.
The word lands wrong. Too close to Rico. Too close to doors that lock and hands that grab.
I grab my clutch from the table.
“I’m not a territory dispute.”
“Darling…”
“I can’t live like this,” I say, backing away. “I won’t.”
He reaches toward me.
I step out of reach.
“Three years and you’re still fighting the world with your fists,” I tell him. “I need someone who fights for me without destroying everything around us.”
His chin lifts, stubborn as stone.
“I am fighting for you.”
“You’re fighting everyone.”
His eyes flick to the crowd. To the phones. To the way this is already turning into a rumor.
Then back to me, like he doesn’t care what it costs as long as he wins the moment.
“I’m going home.”
For once, he doesn’t argue.
Diablo stays still while I step away to call an Uber.
He doesn’t reach for me.
He just watches.
Like he already knows I’m slipping through his fingers.
And for the first time since this all started again, he’s not sure he can pull me back.
Chapter 14
Darling
Diablo doesn’t fight me when I say I’m going home. He doesn’t touch me either. Of course not. Cameras are rolling. I walk away with my bracelet still on and my throat burning with words I refused to say. He just watches me get into an Uber. His enforcer follows the whole time and makes the driver so nervous I have to explain.
By the time I reach my building, the whole Miami dream date already feels like a fever that finally broke. I wave the biker away when I get out of the car and stand long enough to watch his taillights disappear before I go inside.
My hair smells like salt and expensive food and a man who thinks yachts and jazz can erase three years of silence. My heels click against the cracked hallway tile as I head toward my apartment, every step echoing louder than it should.
I tell myself I’m fine.
I tell myself I did the right thing.
