Page 39 of Forsaken Promises

The thought hits me like a bucket of ice water, dousing the flames of my desire and leaving me cold and hollow inside. Because I know that the only way Dom could have gained this level of expertise is by practicing on other women.

Women who aren’t me.

Suddenly, the breakfast in bed, the sweet words and tender touches, all of it feels like a lie, a manipulation, a ploy to get me back into his bed and under his spell.

And I hate myself for falling for it, for letting him seduce me so easily with a few well-placed kisses and a spread of my favorite foods. For forgetting, even for a moment, all the ways he’s hurt me in the past, all the times he’s proven that his love is nothing more than a fleeting, fickle thing.

I feel my stomach turn sour, bile rising in my throat as I imagine him doing this with other girls. Waking them up with breakfast in bed, feeding them strawberries and whipped cream, making love to them with the same passionate intensity that he showed me this morning.

I think about all the girls he must have been with in the years we were apart, all the lovers he’s taken to his bed and made scream his name. I think of the way he’s touching me now, the confident slide of his hands over my skin and the practiced rhythm of his fingers in me, his tongue on me, and I know that he must have perfected these moves on someone else.

Someone who isn’t me.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a harsh reminder that no matter how much I may want to believe otherwise, Dom will never truly be mine. His heart will always be divided, his affections always split between me and whoever else catches his eye.

As much as it kills me to admit it, I know that I can’t live like that. I can’t spend the rest of my life wondering if I’m enough for him, if I’m the one he really wants or just the one he’s settled for.

I can’t let myself fall back into the trap of loving him, of believing in the pretty lies he tells me when I know that they'll only lead to heartbreak in the end.

So I do the only thing I can do. As Dom tries to straddle me, I pull away, shoving him off me and leaving him stunned on the rumpled sheets. I grab my robe, wrapping it tightly around myself like armor, like a shield against the hurt and betrayal that threaten to overwhelm me.

Dom’s brow furrows in confusion and concern. “Sofia? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head, biting my lip to keep the sobs from escaping. “No, I just… I can't do this. I'm sorry, I thought I could, but… I can’t.”

He runs a hand through his tousled hair. “Talk to me, Sofia. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

But I can’t. I can’t put into words the pain and insecurity that are eating me alive, the fear that I’ll never be enough for him, that I’ll always be just one in a long line of girls he’s used and discarded.

So I just stand there, silent and shaking, as the tears begin to stream down my face in hot, humiliating rivulets. I hate myself for crying in front of him, for showing him how much he still affects me, how deeply his actions have scarred me.

Dom looks stricken, his eyes wide and panicked as he reaches for me. “Sofia, baby, please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for whatever I did to upset you.”

But his words only make me cry harder, my shoulders shaking with the force of my sobs. Because he doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand that it’s not just about this moment.

It’s about everything that’s come before, all the ways he’s shattered my trust and broken my heart. It’s about the fact that no matter how much I want to believe in his love, in his promises of forever…

I can’t. I can’t let myself fall for him again, can’t risk the devastation that I know will come if I allow myself to hope for a future that was never really mine to claim.

And so I cry, letting all the years of pain and anger and betrayal pour out of me in a torrent of tears. I cry for the girl I used to be, the one who believed in fairy tales and happily ever after.

I cry for the woman I am now, the one who knows better than to trust in the illusion of love, in the false promise of a man who will never truly be mine.

And I cry for the future I know I can never have, the life I once dreamed of building with the boy who stole my heart and then tossed it aside like it was nothing.

18

DOMINICO

Istare at Sofia in confusion and growing alarm, my mind reeling as I try to make sense of her sudden shift in mood. Just moments ago, I was happily nestled between her thighs, savoring the sweet taste of her essence on my tongue as I brought her to the heights of pleasure. I reveled in the way she trembled and cried out beneath my touch, the way her fingers tangled almost painfully in my hair as she urged me on.

But now, she’s on the other side of the room, her robe wrapped tightly around her body like a shield, like she’s trying to hide herself from my gaze. Her face is streaked with tears, her eyes red and swollen from crying, and the sight of her pain feels like a knife twisting in my gut

“Sofia? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?” I ask, my voice rough with concern as I sit up on the bed.

She shakes her head, biting her lip and looking like she’s about to cry. “No, I just… I can't do this. I'm sorry, I thought I could, but… I can’t.”

This doesn’t make any sense. I need her to be open with me. “Talk to me, Sofia. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

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