She gave me a bitter smile. “There it is, yourstupid pride again.”
Frustration burned through me. I stepped forward, grabbing her arms, my voice tight with desperation. “It’s not pride that stops me, it’s fear. Fear of losing you.”
She jolted, her whole body tensing. Her eyes flashed with alarm. Shit. I let go instantly and backed off.
“I’m not apologizing because I know you won’t forgive me,” I said, my voice hollow. “If I walk out that door right now, I still have a sliver of hope that someday... you might come back to me.But if I hear you say it’s over, I’ll lose you forever. I can live with a broken ego, Emily, but a broken heart? I’m not sure I’d survive that.”
Her lips parted. Tears welled up again. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth, whispering, “What... what are you saying?”
I took a breath. No more holding back. No more walls.
“I’m saying I love you. I love you so much it’s fucking killing me. I love you and the thought of losing you is driving me insane.”
Her fists clenched at her sides, and her voice cracked with desperation. “You can’t say that to me. You don’t have the right to play with me like that.”
I leaned in slightly, my voice soft but firm. “I know I don’t have the right, but I’m a selfish bastard. So I’m saying it again. I love you. This isn’t a game, baby. It’s real. It’s very, very real.”
Her body shook as she covered her face with her hands, sobs wracking her frame. “You hurt me,” she whispered, the words trembling with raw pain. Slowly, she dropped her hands and locked her eyes on me.
Then, with all the strength she could muster, she slapped me across the face. The sharp sting wasn’t even close to what I deserved.
“You have no right to tell me you love me!” she cried, shoving me hard in the chest with both hands. “I trusted you! I trusted you, and you betrayed me! You raped me, Carlo, you killed me! You have no right to say you love me. You don’t have that right!”
Her voice rang in my ears, each word cutting deeper than the last. She lunged at me again, but I caught her wrists, holding her back. Her struggles intensified, her screams louder, her rage blinding. I didn’t let go. I couldn’t.
Instead, I dropped to my knees in front of her, wrapping my arms around her waist. My head pressed against her stomach, and I held her as if she were my anchor in the storm.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
This was the first time in my life I’d ever knelt before anyone, the first time I’d ever apologized. And now, I was losing the one person who’d made me experience so many firsts. The first love, the first tear, the first regret. God, it hurt more than anything I could’ve imagined.
To my surprise, she reached down, her trembling fingers stroking my hair. Her voice, raw and full of pain, broke through the silence. “God damn you, Carlo Bruni. I hope you rot in hell.”
A bitter laugh left my lips, hollow and empty. “I’m already in hell. What worse fate could possibly await me? Don’t waste your curses on me, baby. They’re redundant.”
The sound of her sobs shattered what little was left of me. Each cry was like a dagger to my fucking heart. I squeezed my eyes shut, clinging to the sound of her voice even as it made me hate myself more with every passing second. “Don’t cry, baby. I don’t deserve it.”
For a fleeting moment, she held my head in her hands, her touch soft and full of anguish. Then she pushed me away. I didn’t resist. I couldn’t. I simply let her go.
She turned her back on me, her shoulders shaking as she walked toward the terrace. Her voice, quiet but firm, carried the final blow. “Please, leave me alone, Carlo. Just go.”
It was over. I had lost her.
Finally, I braced myself on the cold ground and stood. I looked at her one last time, memorizing her silhouette as she stared out into the night. She didn’t turn around. There was nothing left to say, so I left the room, closing the door softly behind me. My steps were heavy as I reached for my phone and called Maxim.
“Set up another death match for me,” I ordered.
It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Carlo
I was sitting in the library, staring at the large family portrait hanging on the wall, the only picture of a family that no longer existed. A father, long dead. A cousin, on the run. Carmen, forced into hiding. And a brother, heartbroken, who’d turned his back on me.
Two weeks had passed since that hellish night, and in that time, I’d fought and won two more death matches. I’d beaten two men to death with my bare hands, yet the fire raging inside me refused to die.
Emily had visited the apartment I bought for her once. I’d heard she was packing her things, preparing to leave for good. Even though I hadn’t seen her, I returned home every night, searching for some trace of her, clinging to the fleeting comfort of the last moments of her presence in this house.
