I haven’t stopped crying since I came back to the suite. I’ve been standing in the middle of the bedroom, my back to Giorgio’s closet, and tears are flowing like rain down my cheeks.
The last time I felt this kind of pain was when I was eighteen and rejected by my Alpha. I never thought I would experience it again. I never wanted to.
I’m so tired of being hurt.
My stomach feels hollow and my heart is made of lead.
The last thing I want is to have a conversation about this, but when I hear the door to the bedroom open, I know I don’t have a choice. I know it’s Giorgio because there is no knock, and when he enters the room, he does so like he owns the place.
In a way, he does.
My gaze doesn’t move from his closet and he stands still in the doorway. There’s a long beat of silence where we breathe around each other, the tension between us thick as smoke.
Then I hear him take a step. Then another. He’s coming closer to me and I can’t decide if I want to bolt into his arms or push him away. My mind is telling me to run as far from Giorgio as I can, but my body is saying otherwise.
That’s how it always is with our kinds, isn’t it? My body tells me to submit, to accept my fate.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to follow along. I’ve done that before and gotten burned. No more. No way.
When he’s closer, I can see his feet out of the corner of my eye and they’re still, as if he’s trying to figure out his next move. There is no next move. There is nothing to do or say that will make this better, so maybe he should just leave me alone.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice strained.
That question is almost laughable. How could I possibly be okay after everything that just happened? And why does he care? “No.” My voice is hoarse from all the tears I’ve been crying, so much so that the word sounds more like a groan. “No, I’m not okay.”
“Let me...” He’s closer now, and his hand lands on my shoulder, sliding down my back in a slow stroke. “Let me help you.”
I whirl around to face him, swatting at his hand. “Help me?”
“I’ll make it right.” His eyes are haunted and I’m so angry at myself for still being moved by them. For still caring about his pain. For still caring about him at all. “I swear.”
“You can’t make this right,” I whisper brokenly.
“I can.” His jaw hardens. “I will.”
“No. You can’t.”
His blue eyes are miserable and it’s almost too much to bear. “I’m sorry, Allie.”
His fingers skate up my arm, lingering on my bicep before skimming my neck. “I’m so sorry.”
My lungs seize and my stomach dips to my feet. “Please don’t touch me.”
His hand drops away, but he doesn’t back away. No, he stands closer, crowding me.
“Please,” I beg, turning my head to the side.
When he still doesn’t go, I make the mistake of looking him in the eye. A sob tears up from my belly and bursts out of my mouth, because his eyes...they’re so sad. They’re so full of regret. He’s looking at me like I’ve broken him in half.
That feeling only intensifies when I recall his words on the phone. I am so tired of the drama, Magdalene.
Giorgio is tired of the drama?
It was so easy to fall back in love with him. So effortless.
I was blind and I was weak. And maybe I still am.
Because right now, when he’s looking at me with that expression in his eyes, my arms feel like they’re wrapped around a live wire. I want to wrap them around him instead and draw him closer. I want to soothe him. Make him better.
But I’m a fool for wanting to do those things.
I’m not a fool for knowing it’s too late to do those things anyway.
So I force myself to turn away from Giorgio. Force myself to keep moving forward, even when my heart is lying in pieces on the ground. Even when I’m not sure how much further I can go before I collapse, I still keep moving away from him. Away from his eyes and his regret. Away from the past.
But it’s impossible to keep moving when he’s at my back a moment later, his hands at my hips, pulling me back against his chest. “Don’t go,” he rasps, nuzzling his face into my hair. “Stay with me.”
My tears are falling again, but they’re not silent this time. They’re loud, anguished sobs. “You let her go, Giorgio. You let her leave you. Do you understand how much that hurts? To know she had the power to leave and you let her?”
He grips me tighter. “It wasn’t like that. I was trying to make it easier on both of us. I thought she would be happy with her new husband and I could move on with you.”
“Why couldn’t I make you happy?” I scream, trying to twist around and look at him, but he’s holding me too tightly. “What did I do that was so wrong? I tried to be perfect for you. I tried. And it wasn’t enough. You didn’t love me.” My body heaves with my sobs now. “You didn’t want me.”
“That’s not true,” he grinds out, his voice thick with emotion. “I want you. I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. It’s just...”
He doesn’t finish the sentence.
I know why. He doesn’t want to admit he still loves his ex. That’s why he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he presses his lips into my neck, his hands lifting my dress over my bottom, the tips of his fingers skating over the curves of my backside with a reverence that makes my knees wobble. He wants me. His body wants me.
Mine wants him, too, but that’s not enough anymore. I’m done being a fool.
I’m done letting him break me.
“No.” I wrench free of Giorgio and spin around to face him. “I’ve let you break me before and I won’t let you do it again. It’s over. You need to go home to your wife.” I back away from him, holding up my hands when he starts to reach for me. “No. I mean it. Go home.”
His eyes narrow and grow hard. He seems to be bracing himself to argue. “She’s not my wife,” he snaps.