It didn’t.
My heart pounded against my ribcage. “What thefuckare they doing to her?”
She looked exhausted. Maybe sick. Was she getting any rest? Wasanyonetaking care of her?
“Ugh!” I grabbed the remote and hurled it across the room. It slammed against the wall and clattered to the floor.
This wasn’t working.
I could stay away if I knew she was fine, but keeping my distance when her piece-of-shit father and his incompetent team were running her into the ground?
No.
Fuck. No.
She deserved better than that.
I thought I’d satisfied my urge to protect her when I let her go. But it hadn't gone away. It had embedded itself in my bones, a need that wouldn’t fucking quit. And with it, something else had been simmering. Something I’d tried so fucking hard to deny.
I couldn’t deny it anymore.
I. Wanted. Her.
I was done sustaining myself on glimpses through windows and memories that wouldn’t let me sleep. I wanted the real thing. I wanted us in the same room, breathing the same air, having a fucking conversation.
And then I wanted more. So much more. I wanted everything she’d give me.
Even if it wouldn't be her all.
We weren’t possible. Her dad was trying to put me and my entire fucking family behind bars. But I wouldn’t be asking for a fairy tale.
I’d be asking to be her dirty little secret for a while.
Fucking Cosimo was right.
I tilted my head to the ceiling and dragged my palms down my face.
How the fuck was I going to pull this off when she was constantly surrounded by her father’s people? I had no idea.
The only thing I was sure of was that I was done staying away.
CHAPTER25
MIA
“What do you think about this one?” Fabi asked, turning the laptop to show me another choice for her after-party dress.
I tapped my phone against my lips. “That could work.”
“But?”
“But…it’s a little safe.”
“Safe? Mia, it has a slit up tohere.” She traced a line up her thigh. “You remember my entire extended family and then some will be at this thing, right?”
We were hanging out at my place, our half-eaten lunch sitting in takeout containers on the coffee table. After I’d nearly collapsed from exhaustion on stage last week, Jenny had finally deemed me worthy of a few days off. She wasn’t happy about it. The updated schedule she’d sent me came with clear instructions to let her know if I felt recovered sooner. She’d be glad to put me right back to work.
I opened a new tab on my computer and navigated to a website. “I don’t mean safe as in not revealing. It’s just stylistically boring. You’re the bride. You can bring a little drama, you know? How about this brand?”
