I nodded, tears skittering down my cheeks. “I know. I know. You’re right. I did know and I’m so sorry. Can’t you see I’m not strong enough for this life?” Pulling out of his grasp, I threw myself against his muscular chest, wrapped my arms around his neck and held on for dear life. “I have fears, too.”
“I know you do, baby.” He hugged me back. “But we’ll get through this.”
I cupped the back of his head, weaving my fingers through his hair, and pressed my cheek against his. “I couldn’t stand it if one day you decided you didn’t want me anymore.”
“I’m not your father. I would never abandon you like that son of a bitch.” Of course, he couldn’t promise it would never happen. “Do what you need to do, Isla. Go ahead. Walk out the door.”
“Jesus Christ, Ciro,” Roman blurted, wholly outraged. I’d forgotten he was still in the room, but it was comforting to know we had a witness during our breakup. I wasn’t sure why I thought of that… “Stop being an asshole. You love her. Just fucking admit it already.”
“No, Roman.” I closed my eyes, my lips quivering as I steeled myself. “He can’t, or maybe it’s more like he won’t.”
“Don’t you ever speak for me,” he growled into my ear.
I forced myself to look at him. “You’ll see. When the right woman comes into your life, she’ll get all of you. You’ll freely give her everything and so much more.”
He shook his head violently as if hating what I was saying, but not at all attempting to convince me I was wrong.
I inhaled his scent into my lungs one last time as I hugged him. “I love you, amore mio.”Amore miowas one of a few phrases I knew in Italian. I usually only said it when we made love. Calling himmy lovenow, hurt like a bitch. I kissed him again.
“Isla,” he said my name in a warning tone.
“I will always love you.” With those final words leaving my lips, I turned away and made a quick exit.
“Isla!” He shouted in a desperate gasp. “If you walk out that door… don’t ever come back.”
“Son of a bitch,” Roman hissed, dragging his hand down his face.
My heart seized in agony and shattered into tiny shards as all my hopes and dreams were destroyed.
“Yes, Ciro,” I whispered, bobbing my head. “I understand. Good-bye, my love…”
I froze for a beat with my hand hovering a mere inch above the doorknob, then I slowly wrapped my fingers around it and turned it, keeping my back to him.
Ciro said nothing. I couldn’t even hear him breathing. It took everything inside me not to turn back around, run into his arms, and ask for forgiveness.
My mind was made up, and I managed to find the strength to do what I’d been contemplating for weeks.
I swung the mahogany door open and crossed the threshold, ending my love affair with my Italian prince.
6
CIRO
15 Months Later
West End.A bistro? Why was she working in a restaurant? And doing what, serving customers? Cleaning up people’s messes? Mopping floors?
I cringed at the thought ofMy-labeing exposed to germs and reduced to being a waitress. Or worse, she could be a dishwasher.
Cazzo! I couldn’t imagine any of that. Why had I succumbed to the temptation of looking for her? It was better not to know anything about her.
At least the place had a professional website. I clicked on some pictures. It was far from a dump. I’d go as far as to say it was trendy and upper class. And it had excellent ratings and awards.
But a bistro? In San Francisco?
Why wasn’t she in Pasadena, her hometown? Probably so I couldn’t keep tabs on her.
She didn’t need to worry. Not once had I tried to contact her, though I had wanted to many times over the past year. The fact of the matter was it was safer for her to stay away.
