Page 32 of His to Destroy

And I almost believe him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I got carried away.”

“No,” I murmur. “I can’t lose myself in this. Not now.”

His gaze is soft. Understanding. Pained.

“I want you,” he says. “But not if it costs you peace.”

The tears come fast. I blink them away.

“You make it hard to hate you,” I whisper.

“Good,” he says, and his smile is sad. “Because I’m not leaving.”

And for once, I don’t want him to.

Chapter 9 – Almeria

I keep a mental list of reasons why I shouldn’t want him.

It grows longer by the day. And there’s always one reason that sits at the top.

But no matter how many justifications I pile onto the scale—memories of that alley, the humiliating way he treated me after reading my diary, the years of silence—I can’t seem to balance out the way my body betrays me every time he enters a room.

The years of silence weren’t his fault. I was the one who wanted to remain hidden and invisible. And to be fair, he did say he had been looking for me after figuring out what had happened that night.

He doesn’t even have to say anything. Just exists. Takes up space like the air itself bends to him.

And maybe, in a way, I’ve always been breathing him in.

That scares me more than anything.

Gaspare has been around more lately.

He doesn’t live in the mansion with us. Not technically. But lately, it sure feels like he does. His scent lingers long after he leaves—leather and cedar and something distinctly his. Something only I can smell.

He stops by “just to check in.” Almost daily. Helps Luca with his homework. Sits with me in the evening and watches the fireplace burn like it’s telling secrets. Almost like this is not just my safe house, but his too.

And he doesn’t push. Not anymore.

Which makes it worse. Because restraint looks better on him than power ever did.

He’s changed from the bratty young adult he was back then. The person I remembered him as for years.

I don’t want to see it.

I shouldn’t. But I do. Even when I’m not looking.

The way he looks at Luca like he’s something sacred.

The way he looks at me like I’m something he’s afraid to touch, but can’t stop wanting.

One night, after putting Luca to bed, I walk into the kitchen and find Gaspare there—leaning against the island, sipping tea like he belongs in this house.

We’d been out today in the park after picking Luca up from school and I can see he’s trying to patch the ball that burst in their hard game of dodgeball.

I know the guards that move with me while pretending they don’t know me report my every move to him. So I wasn’t surprised when he showed up at the park.

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