“No.”
Her heart writhed.
“There was only one other.”
More pain pinched her heart. “The girl you told me about before?”
Instead of answering her, he said, “You’re unbelievably masochistic.”
She turned red.
“But I have to say, it’s effective.”
She blinked in confusion, asking, “Effective at what?”
“Arousing me.”
“Angelo!”
Grinning, Angelo pulled her more tightly against him and simultaneously pressed himself harder against her. She stiffened and audibly caught her breath, and Angelo chuckled, knowing she had felt his arousal.
“Just focus on that, tesoro, and stop thinking about the past, and go to sleep.”
And eventually, she did, but unfortunately the same wise words did not work on him.
Angelo lay awake, Lane’s soft, voluptuous body making it one of the longest nights of his life. But more than that, he thought about what he had warned her against.
He thought of the past, and now, whether he liked it or not, the past and present were once again intertwined.
He had thought he would never allow anyone like Jaike enter his life.
And yet here he was, doing the one thing he had sworn he would never do again.
He was picking up the pieces that someone else broke, and he couldn’t help feeling, believing, that one day, when all the pieces of her were back together—-
She would leave him.
Just like Jaike had.
ANGELO LEFT LANE’S bed at the crack of dawn, moving silently and carefully so he wouldn’t wake her up accidentally. After a quick shower and breakfast, he provided instructions for his staff, ensuring that last night’s incident would not be repeated.
Before leaving for his meeting, he headed back up, wanting to check on Lane. His phone vibrated in his pocket on his way to her room, and when he saw who it was, Angelo became still.
He answered it after several rings, saying simply, “Jaike.”
“Hey. Angelo.” Her voice was the same sweet melodious sound he remembered, but unlike before, all it did now was resurrect the most painfully bittersweet memories.
There was a long pause, and her unease was evident even over the phone.
Finally, she said, “I’m sorry for calling you out of the blue.”
“I don’t mind.” Angelo surprised himself by managing to speak levelly.
“Ever since I found out you accepted the mentorship in CU, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
He heard himself say, “I hope that drove your husband crazy.” Because that was what she was now. A woman married to the only man who owned her body and soul, even when she had been wearing Angelo’s ring.
Jaike chuckled. “Yes. It did.”
“Good.”
And then it became awkward again.
Suddenly, she said, “We haven’t talked for years.” Her breath hitched. “Since I left your house. You r-remember?”
“Err...yes. I remember.” A humorless laugh escaped him. Was she fucking kidding? Did she really think he would forget? She might think that he had not loved her the way he should, but he had loved her the only way he knew how.
“I always felt...” There was another pause. “I don’t think it’s fair or right for me to say this on the phone. Can we meet? And before anything else, I’d like you to know Derek knows about this.”
ANGELO ENTERED LANE’S room just as quietly as he had left it, and for a long time he simply watched her sleep. Sunlight filtering from the window turned her hair into gold, and looking at her now made him think about how she described him.
A fallen angel, she had said.
If he was a fallen angel, then she was what angels were at their purest.
An angel who had enthralled him, so much so that she had only spent one night under his roof and she had already started turning his life upside down.
An angel, whose wings were clipped like a wounded bird—-
Just like Jaike Hepburn when Angelo had first found her.
He whitened at the thought, but it was a truth that he was powerless to deny. Was this his fate then, he wondered dully. Was it his inevitable, inescapable fate to want wounded birds like Jaike...and Lane?
Would he never find a woman he didn’t have to piece together to stay with him?
His gaze returned to Lane’s tear-stained face.
Would you leave me, too, tesoro, once you’re whole again?
The answer to this might still elude him, but he also knew he had the choice not to wait for it.
And that was what he was going to do, Angelo thought grimly.
He would not let himself hope.
He would not let himself lie.
This time, he would not pretend that he was someone worth loving.
Chapter Nine
“Buon giorno, signorina.” A tall, curvy girl with beautifully feline features came to Lane’s room to wake her up, the girl’s bright tone in complete contrast with her intimidatingly all-black grunge attire, which consisted of a ribbed top, skull necklace, and leather pants.
Rubbing her eyes as she pushed her up, she stammered, “G-good morning.”
“Signor V told me to wake you up at nine.”