Ruthless Heart

“It’s been so long!” Marissa says, her enthusiasm infectious.

“It really has.” I smile back, my first genuine smile of the night. “How have you been?”

“Well…” she holds up her left hand, letting out a squeal as she shows off a huge engagement ring and wedding band. The diamond even reflects light.

“Wow. Congratulations! Who’s the lucky guy?”

“His name is Ryan. His family owns the largest vineyard in Napa Valley, and he adores me.” She laughs. “So, what have you been up to? You just up and disappeared on us.”

“I know…” I cast my mind out for a good lie. I should have thought of this before. I really wasn’t thinking about running into anyone I know. “I’m sure you know what it’s like when you get the urge to travel. I’ve spent most of my time in Europe.”

“Amazing,” she says with a sigh. “Art school, right? Did you find inspiration in Europe?”

Her question is a punch to the gut. My dreams of having an art career died the minute I left town.

“Of course,” I say, making sure that my voice doesn’t convey the way I feel inside. “But I’ve just been really focused on my charity work for the last few years.”

“We must have lunch,” Marissa insists. “I want to hear everything!”

“Totally,” I lie, before saying goodbye and exiting the bathroom. I hurry back to the ballroom, sure Nero’s wondering what’s taking me so long.

But I’m wrong. Why would he think about me at all when there’s a gorgeous blonde throwing herself at him?

I watch from a distance, as the woman reaches out to caress his arm while they’re talking. His eyes are glued to her, and she keeps tossing her hair in a coquettish way while leaning her lithe body his way.

It’s clear that she wants him, and I tell myself that I don’t care.

But that’s a lie. In just the few short hours that I’ve been around him, my old desire has reignited, despite the fact that he hates me now. I want to ignore this sickening jealousy that I feel, but I don’t think I can.

Coming back to New York, trying to make some deal with Nero… It was a mistake. I can’t think clearly when I still want him like this. Right now, life on the run feels safer than dealing with my feelings for him.

That’s when it hits me.

He’s not paying attention to where I am. For the first time in days, nobody is. No armed guards. No handcuffs.

I have a chance to get away.

Looking around, I see swinging doors that lead to the kitchen nearby. Before I can think twice, I walk through them, quickly passing chefs and the bustle of activity as I head to a back entrance. The breeze is cool on my bare arms as I step outside—and keep walking.

Towards freedom.