Instead, it makes me colder.
No.
I won't let her do this again.
I won't let her wreck me with a look, with a smile, with that quiet way she has of making herself seem small and breakable when she wants something. I know what she is now. I tighten my hold on her, not to comfort, but to keep control, keeping my arms firm around her like a restraint. The elevator continues its ascent, smooth and silent, sealing us into a narrow box of glass and steel.
"Don't," I order flatly.
The word lands between us like a blade. Her breath catches. A single tear escapes and slides down her cheek. She doesn't wipe it away. She just looks at me, wounded, bewildered.
Good.
Let her feel it.
Because whatever she thought this was?—
Whatever hope she let herself believe in?—
It ends here. I won't be pulled under by a siren again. Not ever.
He setsme down on the couch like I'm fragile cargo he doesn't want to drop. The penthouse is all glass, angles, and restrained excess. Everything is expensive. Everything looks controlled. It smells like leather, cold air, and power. Nothing here that gives a hint of the man standing before me.
He steps back immediately. Leans against the wall and crosses his arms like he wants to bring as much distance between us as possible.
"Talk." The word is flat. A command issued by a man used to being obeyed. It's not an invitation. I swallow.
My head feels thick and cottony, like the world hasn't quite snapped back into focus yet. From the pain, the loss of my son, the lack of sleep, the fight with my father, the long walk. Take your pick. I search his face for something—anything familiar—but it's unreadable. Closed. Distant. Like he's already gone somewhere I'm not allowed to follow.
"I'm—" My voice cracks. I clear my throat. "My house… There was a home invasion." The words crumble as soon as they leave my mouth.
I press my lips together, but it's useless. Tears spill over anyway, hot and humiliating, sliding down my cheeks faster than I can wipe them away.
"They killed Jason," I whisper. "They took Amauri and… my… husband." I bite my lower lip, wondering if I should havesaid the last word or not. Massimo always hated Carter, ever since that night… He wanted to kill him, but I talked him out of it, and then fate intervened, and… I can't say Carter got what he deserved, that's too cruel, his fate is one I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, but… There is a part of me that…Stop! Now is not the time to psychoanalyze your fucked up relationship with your ex-boyfriend/husband.Amauri, I remind myself.Amauri. My chest caves in, and I break, folding forward, hands fisting in my lap as sobs tear out of me. He doesn't move.
"I heard," he says, but doesn't step closer. Doesn't soften. Doesn't even flinch.
I look up at him through blurred vision, disbelief creeping in through the grief. What happened to him? This isn't the man I knew. Not even the version I was afraid of him becoming. This is… emptiness. Ice. Like he carved everything human out of himself and left nothing behind.
I didn't exactly expect a warm welcome.
But this?
This feels like hate.
And it hurts more than I'm prepared to admit. Why is he looking at me like that?He'sthe one who left.He'sthe one who vanished without a word, without a goodbye, without even the courtesy of an explanation.
And it's been ten years.
Ten!
Is it really so easy for him to dismiss me like this? Like I'm nothing more than an inconvenience that wandered into his life again?
Fine.
If this is how he wants it… I wipe my face with the back of my hand and straighten my spine. He's going to be cold? I can do cold, too. I've had practice.
"They took my son." The words come out clearly. No more shaking. No more tears.
