I wanted so much to believe that everything I felt had been built on truth. How we got there may have been a lie, but I wanted the respect and friendship—the love—to be real. I was just scared that I’d make it real to have him even if it wasn’t true.
“I don’t want you to lose anything in this. I got my revenge, but I realized late that what I’d lose wasn’t worth it.”
I wanted to pick apart his words and delve into their meaning, but he finally flipped over the stacks of papers. He pointed to one but continued to watch me. My eyes flicked up and down, not wanting to lose his eyes, but also curious about the papers.
“This one,” he said, his finger atop one, “is signing Mariano Shipping over to you.”
“What?” I gasped, finally giving the paper my full attention.
“My plan had been to break it apart, so he could suffer like he made my grandpa. But it’s not mine to do with as I please. It’s your legacy, and you’re more than smart enough to run it. Definitely better than Lorenzo was. I’ll help you build it back up to its peak, and then it’s all yours. I’d had these drawn up while we were in France. I planned on telling you when we got home. I should have told you all of it then, but I hadn’t wanted to spoil our extra week. Possibly my last week with you.”
Tears burned up my throat, and I struggled to swallow past the growing lump, leaving me speechless. Before I could gather any words, he moved his finger to the other stack of papers.
“Verana,” he said, waiting for me to look up to continue. “I’ve never loved anything more than my revenge. But then I’ve never met a woman like you. Strong, proud, smart—probably smarter than me,” he said with a soft laugh. “You’re beautiful and funny. You’re…everything I never even considered. I’ve never loved anything more than my revenge,” he said again.
I sucked in a breath, holding it tight in my lungs, holding on to hope that I wasn’t imagining the wrong thing. Holding on to hope that it was true. Too scared to breathe in case this passed, and I lost it.
“Yet, here you are, proving me wrong.”
“Nicholas…” I pleaded on the smallest amount of air I’d let out.
“I love you, Verana Rush.”
My heart beat against my chest, forcing all the air out on a whimper. Doubt tried to rear its head, but why would he say it? What would he gain? Any ideas I could concoct fell away when he explained the second document.
“These are the signed divorce papers, re-done to break our five-year contract—to set you free.”
My hand flew to my mouth, and I looked down at both papers, the tears finally falling. Pinching my lips tight, I shook my head, not knowing what the hell to do with this. Was it only less than twenty-four hours ago that I sat across from my lawyer to file for divorce?
Now I had what I thought I wanted, and it had never looked more wrong.
“You really think I can do this?” I asked, tapping the paper giving me my company.
“I know you can.”
And that was all I needed to know.
Nicholas may have used my emotions against me, but he would never use business. He’d worked too hard.
Without saying a word, I stacked both contracts on top of each other and stood, holding them to my chest.
“Vera, I—”
His voice broke, and I looked down in time to watch his throat bob over a swallow, and I wondered if his emotions were just as extreme as mine.
I shook my head and turned my back, heading to the kitchen.
I looked across the island. His hand thudded to the table, and his head hung as he muttered, “Fuck.”
When he heard the click of the gas stove turning on, his head snapped up. Holding his gaze, I held the divorce papers over the flame until it caught fire. His jaw dropped, and he shot up from his seat, and we both watched the flame lick at the paper over the sink. Once it reached my fingers, I dropped the remnants of the so-called freedom he gave me and that I didn’t want, running the water to wash away any evidence it existed.
Looking up, I sat the other contract between us. “I’m keeping this one. But I want you to help me. I want to learn. I want to be a team because Nicholas Knightly Rush, I love you too.”
“What?” he asked like maybe he imagined me saying it and needed to hear it again to be sure.
“I. Love. You. You saw me when no one else did. You appreciated me beyond what you could get from me. It took me a while to see it—for you to show it, but when you did, I never felt stronger—more sure. And I’ve never had that from anyone.” He rounded the island, closing in on me. “Nico, I love you, and I don’t want those stupid divorce papers. I don’t wa—”