My woman. My life. My everything.
Now, she won’t let me take care of her, won’t let me make it better. I can’t blame her. Trust never came easily to her, not even before me. After what I did, earning it back feels almost impossible. I see it in the way she looks at me—not with hope, but with caution, like someone who’s already learned how badly falling can hurt.
My voice cracks. “I can’t stand what I did to you.”
She bristles. “You blew up my life.”
“I’m sorry, Enya, more than you’ll ever know.”
The song ends, and she tries to wrench free of me, but I don’t let her loose. Hell, I just got her in my arms, I’m keeping her here for as long as I can.
“You don’t want to make a scene, Nick.”
“You sure about that?” I give her a measured look. “If it’s the only way you’ll look at me. If it’s the only way you’ll let me talk to you. I will make a scene right here in front of half the damn diplomatic corps.”
Her nostrils flare. “You wouldn’t.”
I arch a brow.
She groans under her breath. “Nick…I…damn it.”
The music turns softer, slower, unfair.
We move together in circles, her gaze fixed over my shoulder, mine locked on her like I’m afraid she’ll disappear again.
“Enya, look at me, sweetheart.”
She reluctantly does so.
“I love you.”
Her eyes fill with tears.
“Fuck, baby, don’t cry.”
Her breath stutters.
“Enya,” I whisper. “I know I hurt you. But I swear to you?—”
“Don’t,” she cuts in sharply. “Don’t make promises. You’re good at breaking those.”
“I’m not that man anymore.”
She shakes her head, voice trembling. “I can’t trust anything you say.”
“Give me a chance and?—”
“May I have this dance?” her father interrupts us, and I have no choice but to hand her over to his smirking ass.
“You know, Dominic, you should come by the house with Enya for dinner,” he suggests, his hand resting on Enya’s waist. “And we can talk about your work at Sentinel.”
She closes her eyes, pain etched on her face. I hate it. I especially hate that I have put that misery there.
“Kevin, I’m not interested in you, only Enya.” I step away from both of them, but hold her gaze. I’m being deliberate, intentional. “Goodnight, baby. I’ll talk to you soon.”
With that, I turn on my heel and march out, seething.
I’m furious with Kevin Cahill for being a bloodsucking asshole.
