Even from this distance, I know what’s different about him. It’s his eyes.
He inclines his head to me, his smile like a cut diamond, and then he steps away into the shadows.
Leo’s office seems even larger now. I go in and close the door behind me.
He sits in a chair by the fire, staring into the flames, and I don’t know what it is, but something’s wrong. Something is very wrong. Leo looks as shaken as he did when I put myself between him and Ronan’s gun. Rattled to the core. And something more. I don’t know what. And I have to know. I never should have hovered outside the door. Never should have allowed myself to go back to the party.
I go to him and sink down into a cloud of expensive fabric at his feet, between his knees. Pressing close. Goose bumps run riot up my arms, all the way to the back of my neck. Leo takes my face in his hands, using the pads of both his thumbs to memorize me there. He looks into my eyes and his own are so dark, the gold so bright, my heart splinters. “What happened? Who was that man? Leo, please, tell me.”
He swallows. “I have a confession.”
“Tell me. Please. I love you.”
With his hands on my face, looking into my eyes, Leo tells me everything. He tells me about his meeting with Winston, and the conversation they had about Caroline. He tells me about showing Winston proof. His eyes darken at the mention of it, so I don’t ask. Winston is at the party, I learn, because he did believe Leo—he just couldn’t convince his mother to back off in time. He came to the party to tell Leo.
And then he tells me about the visitor he met with. Explains that he was the man from the library—the one with the strange eyes. The one whose wife was like a little moon. That man, a man named Hades, tried to buy Jane Eyre for her, and that’s how they know each other. Leo tells me how, in their one phone conversation, that man heard the pain in his voice and asked him about it. He’s talking about the pain in his back, the chronic, never-ending pain.
“No one else,” Leo says. “No one else has noticed it before.”
“So you invited him to our engagement party?”
“No. I found out—” He shakes his head. There’s a color to his cheeks that’s not usually there, and my heart beats in the hollow of my throat. I don’t know what it means. “I found out he owns a diamond mine. His master jeweler is the best one in the country. I wanted a ring for you.”
“I love what I have.” It may not be worth a bunch of money, but it means commitment. It means love. And I would cherish it even if Leo Morelli didn’t own a castle.
He gives me a gentle smile. “This is better.”
A velvet box appears in my hands, and I open the lid carefully. And gasp. A large diamond sparkles in the center, but it’s not white. Or yellow. Or pink. Or any of the other colors I’ve seen my Constantine cousins wear. Instead it’s a brilliant black. “How?” I manage to say, my voice shaking. “This is… too much. It’s beautiful. I can’t.”
He seems to understand my babbling. “It’s naturally that color. Magnolia cut. Five carats.”
It’s an intricate shape with curling edges, surrounded by a row of plush diamonds, as if it’s cradled in a cloud. I tilt the box, moving the ring in and out of the light. In the shadows it looks almost opaque. Only in the light can you see the millions of perfect facets. It reminds me of Leo Morelli himself. “It’s perfect, Leo. How did you know?”
“I wanted something unique for you.” Leo doesn’t quite meet my eyes as he pulls the velvet box from my shaking hands. He takes the ring from the satin and twists it gently. “There’s an inscription. There was too much I wanted to say. Not enough space.”
I take the ring from him, needing to read it. The gold band has incredibly fine engraving on top, something that looks both antique and timeless. On the inside it’s mostly smooth except for a script that reads I am no bird, no net ensnares me. Tears heat my eyes. “It’s a quote from Jane Eyre,” I manage to say, feeling breathless, faint. “My favorite quote.”
His dark eyes swim before me like black diamond. Through watery eyes I watch him slide the ring onto my finger. “I want you to be free. Not trapped here, Haley. Not because of a contract or anything else. I want you to choose this.”
“I do.” And I prove it by throwing my arms around his neck. As always, I’m careful. Even when I’m full of emotion, full of passion, I’m careful that I don’t touch too low on his neck. That’s where his scars begin. Where his pain begins, and I don’t want any pain in this moment.
Leo pulls back and gives me an unreadable look.
“Something’s wrong,” I say, sensing his uncertainty. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. The ring. Is it too much? Oh, of course it’s too much. I don’t need something that expensive.”
“It’s not that. No, darling. It’s—” He shakes his head. “The owner of the mine. He knows about pain. He’s the only one I’ve ever met who knows anything about the way—” He takes a deep breath. “He has a different kind of painkiller. One that’s only made for him, for pain like this.”
Leo described it to me once. An unsolvable tangle of nerves and scars. Anything can hurt him. Touch. Stress. Anything. He seems so angry to other people because he is constantly in pain. He uses his rage to distract from the truth.
“How is it different?”
His eyes widen, the expression over so quickly I could have blinked and missed it. “There are no side effects. It doesn’t render a person like him unconscious. A person like me.”
I don’t know whether to hope or despair. I’m caught between the two, and I don’t know what the emotion in Leo’s eyes means. “He came here to tell you about it?”
“He came here to deliver a ring for you. Along with what he called a wedding gift.”
“The wedding isn’t until next month.”
“That’s what I said. He just laughed.” Seriousness comes over Leo’s features, and it takes my breath away again. It’s a miracle I can keep breathing at all when I look at him. “He brought some of those painkillers for me. Enough for a long time. And the nosy bastard sat here watching to make sure they didn’t kill me.”
“You thought it might kill you?”
“No. I didn’t. But the pain was killing me. I haven’t—” A breath with the hint of a shudder. “I was honest with him. When I bought that book for you. I told him I didn’t think I could survive it. It’s been so long.” He brushes a kiss to my lips. “I couldn’t let it take me away from you. So when he offered me a chance tonight, I took it.”
“Leo—”
“Forgive me, darling, if the risk scares you. I had to try.”
My heart is going to burst if he doesn’t tell me now. It feels like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, my toes curling over. “There’s nothing to forgive. But, Leo—did it work?”
“It hurt so fucking much,” he says, his voice breaking.
“Did it work?” I hate to press him. I just want this for him. More than anything. He’s awake and clear-eyed, the way he needs to be to survive. “Does it hurt now?”