Her eyes search mine, her fear turning into hope. “Are you certain?”
“I wouldn’t risk your safety.”
“Okay.” She nods. “I’ll do it. Thank you.”
Her returning confidence is a potent drug. The way her glow returns. Her eyes brighten. I want to bottle this feeling—her trust, her drive—and feed on it forever.
Instead, I force my hands back to my sides, knowing I only have to hold myself together until we reach New York. Less than an hour of restraint, and then distance will dull what she’s made me crave. “We should go upstairs and enjoy what’s left of the return to the city.”
The glimmer of her shine siphons a little. As if she doesn’t want to leave the confines of this moment, which only makes it more necessary.
“Come on.” I lead her to the sun deck and settle us on a daybed, the memories of last night haunting every breath as she sits on my lap, pliant in my arms, her head resting on my shoulder as New York’s skyline grows taller.
It’s right, and perfect, and utterly un-fucking-sustainable.
But I eat it up, committing the feel of her to memory, the warmth, the peace.
I drag my thumb back and forth over her thigh as the yacht docks with practiced efficiency, the marina staff compensating for our reduced crew. Tourists watch from the pier, the familiar sounds of the city a soundtrack to our epilogue.
I slide an arm around her waist, stealing one last moment before the thrusters cut out and the inevitable reaches us. Then I press a kiss to the crook of her neck in silent farewell.
Isla stares straight ahead, goose bumps rising on her skin. “I…” She drags in a tortured breath. “I care about you, Raffa.”
Her admission is a knife through the heart.
“It’s not enough, though, is it?” she asks.
I press my nose into her hair, breathing her in like oxygen. “No. It’s not.”
She nods, her posture strengthening, her resolve beating back all the hits she’s taken since stepping foot on theRequiem. Then she stands and turns to me, her eyes sad but full of purpose. “As fun as this has been, I guess it’s time for me to go.”
I ignore the gut punch her words deliver. “A limo will be waiting for you in the parking lot.”
She offers a pained smile and backtracks, each step a fresh cut. “I want you to know that even when I hated you, I still adored you, Raffael Cavallo.” She sniffs and lifts her chin. “No matter what happens, I think I always will.”
Then she turns and disappears down the stairs.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
ISLA
I hustle off the boat,trying to outrun the tears attempting to chase me down.
The dock is a blur of noise and sunlight, but all I see is my phone lighting up with incoming messages, Quinn’s name stacked like a neon warning on the screen in my hand.
Quinn
Are you back yet?
Where are you?
Give me a fucking update before I call the cops.
A tired smile ghosts my lips. She’s dramatic, impossible, and exactly the support I need right now. Unfortunately, I don’t have the heart to face her. She’ll see right through me. She always does. And I don’t have the energy to lie, not about the yacht, the agreement, or how I feel about Raffael. It’s just another reason why I need to disappear for a few more days.
Me
