I bend and kiss her cheek, my voice cracking. “You have my word. I won’t let you down. I promise.” Squeezing her hand, I step away and walk toward the door before looking back. “Evie knows how amazing you are. Your daughter is waiting for you, Gracie. Please wake up.”
Then I walk into the hallway, resolve hardening in my chest. Johnny stands waiting, along with four of his men. My constant shadow now is a security detail of ten men who are with me every time I leave the estate.
“Johnny, take me to Cyan.”
He hesitates. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Cyan said, If you asked, I’m supposed to tell you no. He said Crescent Bay is the perfect place to start over.”
Cyan, the mule-headed idiot, is clinging to his promise to let me go. But I’m not about to accept that. He belongs to me, after all. “Listen carefully, Johnny... I’m going to see Cyan, with or without your escort. I don’t give a fuck what he told you.”
“I’m sorry, Aria, but—”
“No fucking buts, Johnny. You’re taking me to him. He’smyman. Besides...” I pause, pointing at my flat stomach. “Do you want this baby growing up without a father?”
His eyes widen. “A... what? You’re pregnant?”
“That’s what I said. Now let’s go.”
Sixty-Four
“I called it love, but it was an obsession in disguise. Then she walked back in and reminded me it was both.”–Cyan MacBrady.
“You look like shit. Between you and Thomas, I don’t know who’s worse.”
“Fuck off, Collin.”
“If this is what doing the right thing looks like, I’ll stick with being a villain.”
I don’t answer, lifting the Irish whiskey to my lips. The burn doesn’t compare to the poker lodged in my chest, the white-hot ache of being away from my Dove. The only time I’ve left the towers was to keep my word to Ethan. A life for a life, and I kept it. I let him go from the top of a fucking building. Not my fault he didn’t specify he wanted to stay alive after I let him go. Since then, I haven’t set foot outside the penthouse. I can’t risk it. I’ve almost broken my vow dozens of times and gone to her. But then the memory plays again. Aria nailed to that fucking table, her hand bruised and bloodied, and I stop because dragging her back into this world, after that? I’d never forgive myself.
So, I drink, but the madness clings to me like a second skin. I’m walking a razor’s edge between obsession and insanity.
If Collin knew how deep it went, how far gone I am, he’d either laugh or lock me up. I’ve searched her clothes for her scent like a goddamn addict. Stared at her lipstick on the rim of a glass like it held the secrets of the universe. Her underwear?
Fuck.They’ve become my coping mechanism, my escape, and my fucking lifeline. Last night in the shower, I wrapped her panties around my cock and jacked off. Great. I’m hard again. If Collin doesn’t leave soon, I’m going to lose the last thread of control I’ve got left. I take another sip. Deeper, slower, trying to regain some discipline. The only thing keeping me from storming Crescent Bay and dragging her back here is this bottle and my goddamn promise.
The phone rings. It’s probably security calling about another wedding gift. My assistant postponed the ceremony after everything went wrong, rerouting the packages here. I should cancel it. Call off the wedding. Send everything back. But I can’t move past my three obsessions: Aria, drinking, and jerking off to the ghost of her.
“You gonna answer that?”
I take another sip. “Nope.” It stops.
“Family dinner’s tomorrow. You going?”
“Nope. Rosa’s not speaking to me. Called me a stubborn mule and told me not to come back until I grow a brain.” The phone rings again. Collin sighs and gets up.
He answers, listens, “What a wonderful gift. Send it up.” He hangs up and flops back onto the couch. “You’ll probably enjoy this gift. I think.” Bringing the bottle to my lips, I take another drink. I don’t care what it is, I’ll send it back the second I stop thinking about her long enough to fucking breathe. “I’m heading to Crescent Bay; you might be on Rosa’s shit list, but I’m not.”
The elevator dings as the door opens. I don’t even look up. “Well, well... Cyan fucking MacBrady. The king of bad decisions.” That voice. That goddamn voice. My head snaps up, seeing her slice through the fog like a fiery blade. “Miss me? Or are you still convincing yourself you don’t give a damn?”
She’s there, next to Johnny, wearing that blue floral dress as if it’s armor in her declaration of war. My Aria. Blazing brown eyes. Her curls wild and unapologetic. That mouth–fire, softness, and defiance in one perfect shape. She’s a storm wrapped in floral and curves. Every obsession, every craving, every twisted fantasy I’ve tried to drown. Right here.
“You two.” She points at Johnny and Collin. “Get the fuck out.” Her order is whip-crack sharp, commanding, and fearless.
Collin, the traitor, raises both hands. He knows exactly what he’s done. He walks to the elevator, Johnny in tow. She’s here. She came for me. Joy, panic, and hunger—it all crashes in at once. I want to run to her, fall to my knees, and beg her to stay. But I can’t; she deserves better than this. Better than me. Better than blood and shadows. Digging deep, I summon the discipline that has kept me alive all these years. I must let her go. I will do the right thing.
“Later, C,” Johnny calls out as the elevator closes, his smile mocking.Bastard.
Now we’re alone. Me and my greatest weakness. She walks toward me, stopping in front of me just inches away from where I’m sitting near the window. As she stands there so fucking close, looking down at me, her scent hits me like a drug. Sweet, familiar, and almost fatal. I breathe her in and for a moment, just a moment, I forget the hell I’ve been living in. I take a long drink, letting the burn anchor my resolve.
