“But...” My mind spun. “I won’t be able to find you. I’ll never know where you are.”
“I know.”
The way she stared up at me—not with anger or jealousy or even that challenging look I’d come to adore, but with hope—nearly rocked the floor right out from under me.
My legs buckled, and I stumbled back until I sank to the steps behind me, a firestorm spreading through my chest, stealing my breath and my ability to fight.
Every instinct I had screamed for me to kiss her, to pick her up, to carry her to that bed, to take her hard and fast and force her to feel the connection still raging between us, but I couldn’t because sex wasn’t going to fix the problems between us. And keeping her with me wouldn’t do anything but make her hate me more than she already did.
My eyes grew hot. My throat tightened. Pushing quickly to my feet, I turned and moved for the door.
“Where are you going?” Natalie asked at my back.
“I need a minute.” Fuck. I was going to lose it in a matter of seconds. I jerked the door open and managed to keep my voice from cracking when I said, “Don’t go anywhere. And keep the door locked until I get back. I’ll knock three times so you know it’s me.”
“Luc—”
I didn’t wait around to hear what else she had to say. I jerked the door shut after me and stood in the dark hallway, sure my chest was about to explode.
When it didn’t, I slowly leaned back against the steel door and closed my eyes, breathing deeply, fighting the spasms that wanted to grab hold, working like hell not to break like Niagara Falls.
Holy fuck, this hurt. Worse than I’d ever thought it could. Pain spiraled through every inch of my body as I breathed in and out and told myself I wasn’t having a heart attack. Silence echoed around me like a wide, vast chasm of nothing, one I couldn’t help but notice was as empty as my life.
Somehow I found the strength to push myself away from the door and stumble toward the stairs. I wasn’t sure where I was going, I just moved in a fog.
Blinking, I realized I was back in the ballroom, but the space was virtually empty now, not packed with people drinking and dancing and making depraved arrangements as it had been earlier.
I crossed the empty dance floor toward the long mahogany bar on the other end of the room and signaled the bartender. He dropped the rag he was using to wipe down the shiny surface and reached for a glass and bottle of Macallan from the shelf at his back.
“You look like you could use the whole bottle,” he said in Italian, setting both on the bar in front of me.
As he returned to whatever he’d been doing, I poured myself a generous shot and tossed it back, savoring the burn straight into my gut. I was just about to pour another, slowly feeling the buzz from the three I’d already downed, when the bartender slid my cell phone across the bar toward me and said, “They told me to give you this when you came back.”
I stared down at the dark screen of my phone—the stupid fucking phone that was responsible for all this. If I’d just had the damn thing today, if I’d called Natalie earlier and told her I’d be late—
No, that wouldn’t have stopped this, I realized, my chest squeezing tight and those tears I’d been fighting blurring my vision. There was no stopping this.
From the minute I’d gotten involved with Natalie, we’d been on a crash course toward this moment. I’d known it. I’d known and I hadn’t cared. I’d pushed and manipulated and seduced until I’d gotten my way, and now I hadn’t just ruined my life, I’d fucked hers to hell as well.
My hand shook as I typed a message to Fee and hit Send.
Even though all I wanted to do was grab that bottle and down the whole damn thing so I could fall into a drunken stupor where I’d forget tonight—the last six weeks—had ever happened, I didn’t touch it. I tucked my phone into my back pocket and turned for the doorway.
I felt as if I were moving through water, in slow motion, against the current, every step labored. The bottom corridor was still empty and quiet when I reached it, but I checked each and every door to make sure they were locked, just in case.
Now that I’d set things in motion, I had a singular focus, and I was counting on that focus getting me through what I needed to do next, even if a little bit of my soul was being shredded with every fucking step.
I stopped in front of the last door, shut down my emotions, and rapped my knuckles against the steel three times.
For several heartbeats, nothing but my own pulse echoed in my ears. Then a click sounded, and the heavy door hinges creaked.
I slid into the room before Natalie could pull the door all the way open. She blinked up at me with wide eyes, confused, I knew, about where I’d gone and what I’d done, but I couldn’t look at her.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
I scanned the room, spotted her mask on the floor, and crossed quickly to get it.
“Luc, what’s going on?”
I couldn’t look at her. It was the only way I was going to get through this. And I had to get through this.
She was right. If she stayed here any longer, it was going to destroy her. I wasn’t my father. I wouldn’t do to her what my father had done to my mother. I’d never be able to live with myself if I woke up one day and realized I’d completely broken her.
I handed her the mask, careful not to touch her fingers. “Put this back on, just in case.”
She took the mask from me and slid it back on, watching as I stepped past her and grabbed my own mask from the armoire where I’d dropped it earlier.
I felt her eyes on me, but I didn’t meet her gaze, and as I moved back toward her, I knew she was searching for something to say, but I didn’t want to listen. All I wanted was to get this over with so she could get the fuck out of here and move on. Then after she was gone—
Motherfucker. I couldn’t even think about what I’d do after she was gone.
My phone buzzed. I pulled it from my pocket, read the response from Fee, and fought the sickness surging up my throat.
“That’s our signal,” I managed, reaching for the doorknob with fingers I hoped she didn’t notice were shaking. “Stay close to me and don’t speak, especially if we run into anyone.”
“I won’t, but, Luc...” Her hand closed over mine. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
My vision blurred, and I blinked rapidly as I stared down at her warm fingers closed around my cold ones. She was sorry? I would have laughed if I weren’t on the verge of blubbering like a baby. She had nothing to be sorry for. I was the one who’d done all this. I was the one responsible. I was the one who deserved every ounce of the blame, not her.
Somehow, I found the strength to mutter, “No, I am,” then I shook off her hand, pulled the door open and peered into the dark hallway.
It was just as quiet and empty as it had been before, and I breathed easier, knowing we were in the clear. Stepping out into the corridor, I motioned for her to follow. She did, moving silently, but when she turned back toward the stairs we’d come down earlier, I shook my head and pointed over her shoulder toward the floor-to-ceiling mirror at the end of the hall.
Her brow wrinkled again as I stepped past her and headed toward the mirror, but she did as I’d said and stayed close at my heels. Running a hand down the side of the thick silver frame, I found the button that released the lock, and was just about to pull back the entire mirror that was actually a door when footsteps sounded on the stairs at the other end of the hall, followed by laughter.