Twisted Fate (Dark Heart 2)

“Oh, you must know Jace,” Todd says, following my gaze. “He’s a good guy. I heard he got married last week.”It’s an instinct—running. Even for a guy like me, if something goes sideways and I can’t kick some ass, I’m looking for an exit.

Soren’s got my phone tagged; he can see where I am, so it’s fine for me to go. Up some polished wood stairs and another flight, then down a hall, into the last door on the right, and it’s a room with a small, delicate-looking bed—some kind of spindle shit—and a giant oil painting under a spotlight. I see floor-to-ceiling curtains drawn over…yes, these would be doors.

I step onto a balcony, tugging cold, damp air into my lungs. I’ve got my hands around the rail—feels cool—and my eyes shut, and I can hear the not-so-distant sloshing of the sound, the vessels with their low horns and the far-off traffic. I can hear the chatting and the laughter inside.

Holy fuck.

Elise is married.

I lean over, put my head down on the knuckles of my hand that’s on the rail.

What, did you think you might end up with her? She felt sorry for you. Or maybe she wanted you because she knew she was about to marry him.

That’s not true. I know it’s not, but…I don’t know. I don’t know anything—except she’s married. Elise married Jace. I feel like someone kicked me in the chest.

I take deep, long breaths, till I think I can see straight again. Then I lift my head. I should get the fuck out of here. There’s a bunch of trees below the balcony. I watch their bare, sharp-looking branches sway in the wind. Then I turn toward the slider door and do a double take.

“Luca.”

I flinch at the sight of Elise. “What do you want?”

“I saw you.” Her eyes are wide. Her hair’s piled on her head. Her gown scoops downward at the neckline, revealing creamy cleavage. She looks like a married woman.

“Congratulations.”

“It’s not—”

“My business,” I cut in, stepping around her so I can get the fuck off this balcony. But Elise grabs my arm.

I shake her off and step into the bedroom.

“Don’t go.” Her voice is high and plaintive; her eyes, when I glance back at them, look desperate with regret.

“Luca…” Her voice sounds thick with tears. “Talk to me, please.”

I turn around to face her. “What would you like me to say?”

“I’m not in love with him. He’s my friend.”

I blink, schooling my mouth so my lips don’t twist into a scowl. “I hope you’re happy together.”

“Don’t do this.” She steps closer.

“Do what?”

“Don’t look at me that way!”

“What way?”

“Like you’re…just numb,” she whispers.

“You want it to hurt?” My pulse picks up.

Tears well in her eyes. “No.”

“It does hurt,” I say, grabbing her arm and pulling her close, so her chest and mine are pressed together. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You were never going to be mine.”

My heart pounds harder saying those words aloud, knowing how true they are.

“I am yours.” She wraps her arms around my neck, urging my face toward hers with a warm hand on my nape, and then her mouth is on mine. We’re kissing, and it’s hard and frantic. We can’t stop until we have to break apart to breathe. “I am yours,” she says as tears drip down her cheeks. “Even if no one knows.”

“Don’t say that unless you want to be mine. Don’t say it if you’re fucking someone else.”

“We’re not.” She wipes at her eyes.

“How’re you gonna get that baby?”

Her mouth forms a tiny circle. “How’d you know?”

“Same way everybody in Manhattan knows.”

She looks stricken.

“Fuck, I’m sorry—that’s not true.” My hands squeeze her arms. “I know because I pay attention. Because it’s bothered me for years. It drives me fucking crazy, but…you have to do what’s good for you, la mia rosa.” I look into her eyes as I tell her, “Do what makes you happy.” When a little tear drips down her cheek, I lift my hand to thumb it away.

Elise wraps her arms around me. “Come with me,” she whispers. “Please.” She takes my hand and tugs me toward a door beside a dresser.

Anything you want. I can’t say it because my throat’s too tight, but I have the feeling of a marble being pushed down a hill. Everything she wants, I’ll do, I think as I push the door open and find a closet. This will have to be the last time—

Her mouth seals over mine, and then our tongues are tangled.

“Luca.” Her hands grip my shoulders. “This is so messed up.” Between our frantic kisses: “Dani said that we’re a tragedy. I think we are.” Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. I know because I taste them. She’s gripping my hair, breathing fast and shallow.

“Why’d it have to be this way?” she whimpers.