I am about to apologize when he says, “At least, neither of us enters this marriage with false expectations.”
He hangs up, and I yank the curtains shut, so he won’t see the tears falling down my face.
Climbing into bed, I stare at the ceiling until my eyelids grow heavy.
In a few hours, I’ll marry the infamous King of New York. The polished and influential businessman, the monster, the sinner, the devil in disguise.
I’ll be his.
He’ll be mine.
Till death do us part—undecided if I want our life together to be long or short.
A rap on the door yanks me from my much-needed sleep. I doubt I’ve slept for more than a few hours. Knowing him, he hasn’t slept at all.
Why do I still care? Why can’t my brain stop running in an endless circle, chasing him? It’s exhausting.
With a sigh, I say, “Coming.”
I open the door and find the concierge offering me a professional smile and holding out a velvet box.
“Good morning, Miss Bertinelli. This is for you.”
I take it with trembling hands.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” he says before retreating.
I nod, incapable of forming words.
The asshole tries his best to find a crack in my defense and breach it to sneak back inside like the virus he is. Not going to happen. Yet, I open the box, my eyes bugging out at the diamond necklace encrusted with emeralds, a heart shaped emerald dipping in the middle. It looks stunning.
Attached is a note.
I promised you the world. This is just the beginning, mo run.
You can’t buy my heart, Tristan.It’s not for sale. I’ll still wear it to show him I am not affected. Nothing will change.
My sister pokes her head inside, and I realize I had left the door open. Damn his uncanny ability to own my entire focus.
“You like it?” she asks, her eyes sparkling.
My mouth hangs in sheer incredulity. “You helped him?”
She waves the thought away. “He has impeccable taste. Went through three designs before the result satisfied him. With no limit on spending, I selected the rarest gems.”
“He does indeed,” I gulp. “Thank you.”
Now I have to wear it.
Chiara stares into my eyes, checking how I am holding up. She raises a brow, not buying my rehearsed smile. “How are you, honestly?”
I shrug.
She sighs, “I wanted to kill Cato.”
“Good thing you didn’t.”
“Best decision ever.” A bright smile paints her face before she turns pensive. “Tristan has shown an interest that makes me wonder…”
