by Alice Ward
I shut my eyes. Perhaps in the darkness, there would be less pain. “Don’t say that,” I whispered. “We don’t know how things are meant to be. Maybe this was our path all along.”
Though I said the words, I couldn’t believe them. I’d thought Cristiano might be my soul mate. The prospect of losing him, and now the full reality of losing him, made me even more sure he was just that.
But you’re supposed to be with your soul mate. That’s the whole point.
There would be no one else. There could never be anyone who would hold even half a candle to this man.
“Destiny,” Cristiano bitterly said, like it was a slur.
I blinked fast and looked back at him. “Yeah, well...” The sentence ended in a heavy sigh.
His weight shifted. He went to move, to walk in the direction of the front door. But then I spoke, stopping him.
“You’re my soul mate,” I blurted out.
The words came without me planning them, but I didn’t regret their arrival. It was the truth, and nothing was better than the truth. Especially in times of pain. Sometimes, I saw then, when there’s suffering, there’s nothing but the truth. It’s the last thing you have to hang on to, the one thing you know will always be unwavering.
And to voice it, though you may be in unspeakable pain, can really set you free.
“You’re my soul mate,” I repeated. “And I know that you’re going in one direction, and I’m going to have to go in another, but nothing will ever change what you are to me.”
Cristiano’s throat rasped, like he was gasping for air but not able to get a good breath in. “I know, Blaire,” he whispered, so soft I could barely hear it. “I know. And you’re mine.”
“I would die for you. Do you not get that?”
“And I would do the same for you. And that’s why I need you to live. I need you to stay safe.”
“And happy?”
“And happy.”
Heavy as it was, my head still managed a weak shake. “Not without you. I won’t be happy without you.”
“Blaire...”
“What do you think I’m going to do?” I demanded, each word coming out a note higher. “How do you envision this new life you’re asking me to live? Am I going to go to some tiny town named after a fruit or a tree? Peachtree? Orange Blossom? Oakdale? And what? Get a job as a waitress? Spend the rest of every day and night of my life wishing that I was by your side? Get married to some random man who thinks I’m happy with him, but who will actually never get to know the real truth? Am I supposed to spend each night sleeping next to some other guy, trying to love him while the whole time I’m slipping away to hide in the bathroom and cry for you?” Tears filled my eyes, so thick I couldn’t see more than Cristiano’s vague shape. “I would rather die tomorrow by your side than live a hundred more years without you.”
“You’re a fool, Blaire,” he croaked, the thick nature of his words revealing how close he was to crying himself.
“Then let me be because fools can be happy too!” I wiped my eyes ferociously, brushing away the tears and clearing my vision.
“You talk about going on living with me far away, but what about me going on with you dead? Don’t you think that’s a crueler fate?”
“Of course it is, but you won’t exactly be safe in Cyprus yourself,” I countered. “Whoever is after you here will be after you there, and maybe twice-fold. You’re walking into the lion’s den.”
He sighed, his head dropping until he faced the floor. He looked so defeated, his shoulders slumped and not a bit of him moving. “I know.”
“You’re not safe anywhere. Maybe I’m not safe anywhere.”
He slowly lifted his head and then walked across the room to come and sit at the far end of the couch. Several feet remained between us, and I kept my distance, scared with him so close.
“So what can we do?” he softly asked.
I tried to not let the question give me hope.
“We can go forward. Together. Cristiano, I know that I could lose you, okay? And I know that you could lose me. I’ve looked death in the eye. I’ve seen friends go into combat and not come back. I know what loss is like. And I know you do too.”
His eyebrows pushed together, and he peeked at me from the side, his exact expression unreadable.
I went on. “And you know what else? We both lived through it. We’re here today. And we’ve both been happy, though we lost people.”
Cristiano slowly ran his palms over his face then dropped his hands to his knees. “You could have been a lawyer.”
“Because I’m so persuasive?”
“And conniving.”
“Damn it, Cristiano! What the fuck else do I have to say?”
“How about this?” he hissed. “That you will go on with your life. That you will forget all about me. That you will do everything you can to stay safe and away from me.”
I choked on my own breath. It was just like when Florentia left him at the orphanage so many years ago. I understood then that Cristiano was making what might be the hardest decision of his life... and I was only making it harder for him.
“All right,” I whispered. “I will.’
I got up and went in the direction of his bedroom, my body shaking. I couldn’t believe I’d just given in.
At least this was the hardest part. At least it will be over soon.
Tears coursing down my face, I got to work collecting all of my belongings and throwing them into the suitcase Cristiano had brought over for me the day he decided I was safer with him than I was at my apartment. It was painfully ironic that his opinion on that had switched so fast.
My hands trembling, I threw everything into the suitcase, zipped it shut, and then lugged it into the hallway. I kept my gaze pointed straight ahead. No indulgent glances at the walls around me, the space that used to be so welcoming. My time with Cristiano was over starting right away. I needed to accept it.
Straightening my back, I wheeled the suitcase into the living room to say goodbye for the last time.
Cristiano wasn’t alone. Florentia had joined him there.
“...then it is not right,” she said.
Cristiano’s eyes went wide at the sight of my suitcase. Florentia whipped her head towards me.
“You are leaving?” she asked.
I nodded stiffly.
“But what about...?”
“It doesn’t matter. Cristiano and I talked about it. It’s... for the best.”
Behind her, Cristiano’s jaw ticked, but he said nothing.
“But it is a mistake,” Florentia insisted.
I raised my chin, not allowing myself even a second before I replied. If I weren’t careful, I would agree with her, which meant I would be right back in the place I was fifteen minutes ago.
“I love your son,” I informed her. “So I’m going to do whatever it takes to make him happy.”
“If you love each other then you won’t be happy.”
I glanced at Cristiano, curious as to what his reaction to that was, but he stayed as frozen as a statue.
“You will be miserable,” Florentia insisted. “And I know what you will say. The same thing he just told me. You might die.”
“Yep,” I tartly agreed. “And that’s enough for him.”
She turned to look at her son. “But she won’t die here?”
Cristiano opened his mouth, likely to argue the point, but she cut him short. “She could get hit by a bus next year, and then what will happen? You will spend your life wishing you had stayed with her.”
He shook his head. “It’s highly unlikely—”
“I’m not done.”
He flinched as if struck. Even I was surprised by Florentia’s sudden aggressiveness.
“You left me,” Cristiano calmly said. “When I was four. Even though it broke both our hearts. You did it because it was what was best for me. You did it because you loved me, and now I’m doing this because I love Blaire.”
A tear
escaped the corner of my eye, and I sniffled. At least I would have that statement to hold on to, wherever it was I went next.
“And that is why I know what I’m talking about,” Florentia said. “That was worth it. You were a small child. You did not understand the risk that came with us staying together. Blaire does. That is the difference.”
The silence rang out. I swallowed, the sound crazily loud. Cristiano blinked rapidly, something changing in his features. His gaze slowly moved across the room, coming to rest on my face.
“I know,” I whispered, taking my hand off the suitcase handle. “You don’t have to tell me what we might be up against.” I licked my parched lips. “But let me help. Let me give you strength when you don’t have it. I know how much you can do alone... but together we can do everything. And please believe me when I say that even one more week with you will be worth it. It will have made my whole life.”
Cristiano’s eyes shimmered. I held my breath, waiting, unable to bear the pain of it. Please, please. Say yes. Just tell me you want me with you.
“I don’t know, Blaire,” he said, but it was enough to get my breathing going again. He was breaking, getting so close to opening the door and letting me in.
“I’ll follow you,” I stubbornly said. “Because one day, Cristiano, you’re going to see it my way. I know you will.”
He looked into my eyes, holding my gaze, those amber eyes I would love until the day I died locking onto my soul.
“Come with me,” he whispered.
I almost didn’t believe it. Could this really be right?
“But only if you really understand...” he began, but I didn’t let him finish. I flew across the room, moving lighter than air into his arms.
Cristiano swept me up, pulling me off the floor and bringing me close. Two hearts as one. Two lives come together.
Alone we had done so much, but together we would accomplish even more. And come what may, and in what form, it didn’t matter. Cristiano and I were meant to be together.
My mom would understand. Evie would too. Because they both knew how hard I’d searched for my real purpose in life.
I’d found it. At this man’s side, I would protect him and he would protect me. We would make a difference in the world.
Together.
With no more secrets.
THE END
Continue on to read the next in the Lords of the City series, Burned.
Burned
LORDS OF THE CITY
BOOK 3
BOOK DESCRIPTION
Welcome to the third sexy STANDALONE novel in Bestselling Author Alice Ward’s bad boy billionaire romance series, Lords of the City.
When two Type-A personalities come together, one of them is going to get burned.
My life is exactly the way I want it to be — with me in total and complete control. I love my business. I love my home. I love my dog and my friends. And yes, I love men too... as long as they do exactly what they’re told.
What I don’t love is secrets, but Seth Allman is full of them. He’s full of cockiness too. He knows how to play my body and my mind. I crave him. I’d do anything for him. Including risking it all. And I do. Love... what an out of control emotional rush.
CHAPTER ONE
I tilted my head to the side and studied the long swaths of gold and red. The canvas, illuminated by soft lighting above and beneath it, stood a good six inches taller than me. Upon first inspection, the painting seemed full of violent, aggressive tones, but the more I studied it, the more the anger in the piece softened. Now it felt like I was looking at a river of lava, strong and secretly aggressive, but also peaceful and deceptively gentle.
“What do you think?” a male voice asked.
I peeped at the newcomer out of the corner of my eye. Tall, blond, wearing a gray suit and holding a beer in one hand. He reminded me a little of the actor who played Thor. All in all, the guy was decent looking enough. If I was the kind of girl who used a rating system, I’d put him at somewhere around six point five or seven. The kind of guy whose attractiveness might increase if his personality proved to be at least semi-compelling. I’d never seen him around before.
That last one was the bonus. I liked them new, liked my future with them to be uncertain and unbound by any real associations.
“I like it,” I replied uncrossing my arms and turning to face him. “There’s something frenetic about it, but it’s not off putting, oddly enough. I would hang it up in my bedroom.”
I let the word bedroom dangle in the air between us. Blondie took a sip from his bottle. The liquid in it sloshed around. “You come to art openings a lot?”
“Sometimes. But always when it’s my best friend’s.”
His eyebrows went up. “Oh, yeah? And are you an artist?”
“Maybe you could say that. I’m a business consultant.”
“Cool,” he grunted. “Like you help people decorate their offices?” He chuckled, pleased with himself.
My eyes narrowed. His joke wasn’t amusing. “No,” I snapped.
Scratch the hope for a pleasing personality. The dude quickly dropped from a six point five to a one.
A new group of people hovered near the open bar, the young hipster dudes already catching my eye. The man in front of me was cute enough, but our short convo had already betrayed his intelligence level. Or lack thereof.
I gave him my best smile, the general and all-purpose one I pulled out of my handbag to diffuse any situation. “It was nice talking to you. I see someone I need to go say hello to. Have a great night.”
His mouth opened in what might have been a protest, but I was already gone, making my way across the marble floor of the Chicago Artiste art gallery.
I cruised by the group at the bar, checking them out from the corner of my eye. They were all involved in a conversation, laughing and joking together, and didn’t appear to be looking to socialize with anyone else.
Slightly defeated, I clocked the rest of the gallery. Most of the people attending the event were at least in their fifties, women with long necklaces of glass beads and men wearing tweed even though it was August. It was not exactly a twenty-five-year-old single girl’s wet dream.
Thinking about giving up for the night, I located my two best friends and headed in their direction.
Heather and London stood at the end of the drink table, their heads close together in conversation. They’d both done their hair up for the night, the messy updos nearly matching, the only difference the color of their hair; Heather’s blonde hair and London’s brown tresses made for an attractive contrast.
“Quinn, who was that you were talking to?” Heather asked the second I got to her, her big blue eyes going wider. She stirred whatever was in her little plastic cup with a tiny black straw.
“Ugh. No one of interest. I told him I was a business consultant and he made some joke about decorating offices. At least I think it was a joke. Hell, maybe he actually wanted to let me know he thinks that’s where I belong.” I grabbed London’s cocktail from her hand and took a swig before passing it back.
“Still,” Heather pressed. “He’s kind of hot.”
My nose wrinkled. “Try talking to him. Trust me, your opinion will change real quick.”
London laughed and asked Heather, “Aren’t you still married?”
Heather smirked. “Hey, I can still look.”
“You have a good man. Give the rest of us a chance.”
I defended Heather. “Being with one man for five years sucks. Who wouldn’t be looking at the goods?”
“Hey!” Heather gasped. “I’m not looking to cheat. I love Dan.”
I winked at her, enjoying how easy she was to tease. “That doesn’t mean your vagina doesn’t have its own needs and desires.”
Heather folded her arms and looked away.
“So where is that guy now?” London asked. “Did he leave?”
Heather jutted her chin upward. “Quinn just said that guy was a jerk.”
Warmth that had nothing to do with the drink I’d stolen from London’s cup filled me. “She looks happy,” I mused out loud.
“Yeah,” London agreed. “This is a great night.”
“She deserves it.”
Someone passed between me and Rory, obscuring my vision. I started to turn away but then did another take.
H...E...L...L...O.
The offending stranger was tall but not more than a head above me — just the way I like it — and possessed broad shoulders and thick brown hair. With a finely lined profile, he looked like he belonged up on the wall with the rest of the art. Blondie from before seemed like less than nothing in comparison to this new man.
As if feeling my gaze on him, the guy turned and looked right at me. His deep blue eyes melded with mine, sealing our gazes together. I couldn’t look away.
I smiled coyly at him, just enough to show my interest, and then turned back toward my friends, not waiting to see what his reaction would be.
If I knew anything about men, he would come over and say hello to me in about thirty seconds. That or he would wait till I was alone, not surrounded by other women, and make his move then.
“What are you grinning about?” Heather asked.
“Oh, nothing.”
I held my breath and waited to see if the guy would come over as predicted. A few seconds ticked by. Then another few. Heather started telling London about her sister’s baby shower the next weekend. As inconspicuously as possible, I peeked over my shoulder.
He was gone.
“Damn it.”
“What?” Heather questioned.
“There was a hot guy over there,” I said in a low voice. “And now he’s gone.”
Maybe I hadn’t given the look long enough. I’d turned away too soon. That had to be it.