"Let go, cuore mio," I ordered. She dropped his hand instantly as if his touch scalded her, straightening as she stared up at me. Her slender body went solid as she waited, her intense green gaze never leaving mine as she undoubtedly waited for the inevitable push. For the moment I would remind her she wasn't mine and never would be.
Irina had feelings for someone who didn’t exist. For the man she wanted me to be, the hope she saw inside me without acknowledging the damage.
I held out a hand, watching as she stared at it. Without a glance back for the man she'd been prepared to welcome into her body, to sever the toxic obsession that thrummed between us like a soul bond, she placed her perfectly manicured palm on mine. Electric sparks shot through me at the touch, reminding me for just a moment what it would be like to feel.
But with feeling came pain.
Irina followed me as I guided her to the exit without a word. The walk took everything she had, her steps coming more unsteadily as she swayed. The cool fall air kissed her skin when we emerged from the front doors of the club, and she wrapped her arms around herself. With a sigh of frustration, I turned and scooped her into my arms. She wrapped hers around my neck as she squeaked in surprise, settling in with her head on my shoulder when exhaustion weighed her down.
She'd drunk far too many gin and tonics to be aware of her surroundings, and I tried to stop the condemnation that bubbled up. Irina wasn't unaware of the dangers in the city, but she still took risks.
One night every month, she shed her professional shell to go to Indulgence and torture me. Her green eyes were hazy as she studied me now, her head lolling against me more heavily with every step I took. The bare skin of her legs draped over my suit-covered arm was the epitome of temptation. I wanted to run my hands over her. Wanted to see my skin against hers.
She was nearly asleep by the time I set her in the passenger seat of my SUV, smiling up at me through the drowsy look on her face. My heart clenched, knowing she thought the day had come where I finally accepted the pulsating thread that connected us. I couldn't put it into words, but something about Irina just felt like mine. Even though I knew she wouldn't be.
Eventually, Irina would tire of waiting for me to make a move. Eventually, she'd move on with a good man and he'd give her the white picket fence and two-point-five kids she needed.
Her soft snores filled the SUV as I climbed in the driver's side. If she'd been any of the Bellandi girls, I might have chuckled. With Irina, all I wanted was to fall asleep to that sound.
I drove her to the nearest Bellandi-owned hotel, checking in and carrying her up to the room I’d booked. It wasn't the Penthouse, but Irina would sleep through the night and race out first thing the next morning.
Horrified. Embarrassed.
Pissed.
As I'd requested when checking in, the concierge quickly dropped off a bottle of water and aspirin, ducking out of sight when he caught the thunderous look on my face. I placed them on the nightstand where she'd be able to reach them when she woke up with the hangover from hell.
I supported her weight against my body, tugging the covers down so I could tuck her under them. When she was laid out on her back finally, the temptation to touch my fingers to the place where her heart beat in a steady thrum consumed me, but my hand hovered just an inch from her skin.
Her red lips glistened, a beckoning temptation I wasn't strong enough to resist. I leaned in, my lips touching hers in the faintest hint of a kiss as I pulled away. I grabbed the notepad off the nightstand, scribbling a quick note on it. My throat was tight as I wrote the words she'd see when she first woke up.
Stay home.
I imagined her reading it the next morning, drinking the water and taking the pills as she forced her eyes to work. The rejected look on her face wasn't hard to imagine.
I'd pushed her away countless times since we’d met.
She deserved a man who could give her the world, not one who could barely tolerate being touched.
I made my way to the door, glancing back at her and knowing one truth; it would be the last time I watched her dance at Indulgence. Walking away would mean the end of whatever it was that threatened to pull me under.
I turned and closed the door behind me with a final click that echoed through me, knowing it had to be done.
PART III
RISE
22
IRINA
One Year Later
The room swayed as I moved to stand from the table where Bryan sat comfortably across from me. He looked ridiculous with one of my turquoise coffee mugs clutched tightly in one hand while he scrolled through his phone absently. Watching from the corner of his eye as I pulled the pill bottle from my purse, he raised an eyebrow and I knew I hadn't been effective enough at hiding it.
He grew more and more watchful every day, and I wondered how long I'd have to endure him serving as my bodyguard. I couldn't make it much longer before his curiosity got the better of him and he discovered the truth. Undoubtedly, he was reporting back to Scar, like the man had any right to be concerned in the slightest for my health.
How could it be possible to miss someone you'd never really had?
And yet, from the moment I'd met him, he'd done nothing but show me just how incomplete I was without him.
I moved my purse to the kitchen counter to shield it from prying eyes, discreetly shaking a pill out of the bottle inside into my hand and taking the daily dose of medicine to keep me stable.
"You ever going to tell me what those are?" Bryan asked, setting the phone on the table and moving to stand as I popped the pill into my mouth and shoved the bottle back inside the hidden compartment in my purse.
With a gulp of water, I swallowed it and turned a brittle smile his way. "I'm not really sure what difference it makes. I'm not dying. That's all that matters for you to do your job," I snapped.
"That's not fair and you know it," Bryan returned, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. He'd only been with me full-time for six days, but even I knew he cared more than he should. Considering my father's determination to preside over Tiernan Murphy's trial, there was every possibility that I'd never see the end of the year.
I was the only weakness in my father's armor. The only person remaining who could be used to sway him to change his mind about seeing the man behind bars. The Bellandis may not have been saints, but our city was far safer with them to protect it from harm than it would be under the control of Murphy and his band of miscreants, who stole women and children off the streets to sell to the highest bidder.
I didn't know much about the war between the Bellandis and Murphy, only that Matteo was determined to take Murphy down in a systematic way that left as few civilians harmed as possible. Timing was everything. Reinforcements were everything.
Winning was everything.
"He cares about you. We all know it," Bryan murmured, coming over to put his hand on my shoulder. I'd been doing so well. Keeping my shit together had been nearly impossible after all Scar had put me through, but I'd done it out of determination to keep going. To help the kids at the center and work with the social workers to ensure each of my kids had a positive home life.
I’d worked my ass off to connect sponsors with the foster homes who needed them, raising money to help pay for things to keep the kids occupied, entertained, and off the streets. I worked constantly, and the sound of my phone vibrating with a new text message on the counter was only one more affirmation that my work came first.