When he next spoke, his words sounded stuttered and halting even to himself. It felt as though they were choking him.
“Inigo Montoya, the rat, your nonno, your mamma, the stupid fucking little prince—man, you really are good. I believed it. All of it. I’m just trying to figure out what you planned to do with it all.”
“There was no plan,” she sobbed. “None of it was part of a plan.”
“I don’t believe you. Why should I? All this time, making me believe you were someone else, making my family believe it.”
“That woman on New Year’s Eve, that’s not me, that’s part of the past. Okay, yes, my past, but it’s not me. Not the real me. The time spent with you and your family—that’s me—the real me.”
He swung around.
“You stay away from my family. Do you hear me? I don’t want you going anywhere near them. Ever. Again. When I think of how you used my nieces to get to me …”
Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
He swallowed. But he lifted his chin, fixing on what looked like a spider making its way across the wall.
“No,” she said, sobbing. “I didn’t. I would never. I love Sofia and Beatrice.”
“I don’t even want to hear their names coming out of your mouth. I can’t believe I did this again. You’re worse than Carolyn.” He turned and marched up to her, holding his finger a mere inch from her nose. “If you think you’re going to ruin this season for me—”
Nico shook her head. “No, I’m not, I wouldn’t.”
“You’re damn right you’re not. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to pack your suitcase, and you’re going to leave. You’re going to make up an excuse why you have to go. I’ll have a talk with youruncleMickey. God, what a fool I’ve been.”
“No, Rocco. That’s not— Will you at least let me explain? I’m not even expecting you to forgive me, but will you please just listen? For yourself as much as for me. You haven’t been a fool. I—”
“Stop. I don’t want to hear it.”
He shoved her aside and began to open the door. “And when we’re back to racing—stay out of my fucking way—both on the track and off it.”
He slammed the door behind him.
Nico stood numb. It was as though she were in some parallel world where it appeared as though she were in the same space and time as Rocco, but in reality, she wasn’t. She was so far away, she couldn’t reach him. So far away, she would never be able to reach him. So far away, not because she had traveled to some other space and time, but because he had. He was beyond her now. No matter what she said, she’d lost him. He was gone.
Why hadn’t she stuck to her plan in Monte Carlo? She was supposed to channel that woman he met at Drink and Dive. The woman who couldn’t be touched. The woman who couldn’t be moved. The woman who could never love or be loved.
Why hadn’t she just let those elevator doors close and let Rocco think there was something between her and Anker? Why did she care what he thought of her? Why had she let him kiss her? Why had she come here?
She should have left the hotel room that night after he left. Then she wouldn’t have been there when he came back the next morning. Then thatmaybewould have been ano, like it should have been.
She’d wanted to tell him; it was her who had been the fool, not him.
Somehow, she managed to move her limbs, and with trembling hands, wiped her tears and packed her suitcase.
She would fall apart later. She had a few days before the season began. She would go back to Vegas. Have a complete breakdown. And then Charles and Templeton would help her put herself back together again.
Rocco paced back and forth in the living room of the apartment he’d rented for this weekend’s race—the first race after the three-week break.
Dario and Celeste sat on the sofa, looking stunned after what he’d told them.
Dario shook his head. “That was Nico? I can’t believe it.”
Rocco could. Now. He’d sensed something familiar about her from the beginning. From the very beginning. It was those eyes. Those pitch-black eyes. Thinking about those eyes gave him a moment’s hesitation. Should he have given her a chance to explain?No, he thought.Explain what?She was a con artist, and that made her a liar. What else had she lied about?
He thought about Barcelona. Even that— He stopped pacing and swallowed. All of it. She could have lied about all of it. He had more reason to believe she had than she hadn’t.
Dario came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you going to be okay this weekend?”
