I push my piece across the board.
And she slides her rook into place. Checkmate.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You let me win?”
“No, I didn’t—” The sound of my phone ringing cuts me off. “I didn’t lose on purpose. That’s not my style.” I lost because I wasn’t paying attention. Because getting her to see that she’s more than I could ever hope to deserve in life was more important.
My gaze drops to my phone, and I sigh heavily. “I have to go out for an hour. I’m really sorry. They need me at the casino. It’s urgent.” I fucking wish I could say no, but I can tell it’s non-negotiable. It’s at times like this that I fucking hate being a made man. “We can talk more when I get back.”
She nods.
I stand from the table, dragging a hand down my face as I shove my phone in my pocket. I cross the room in a few steps. I linger by the doorframe, my gaze not wanting to tear away from her. “We’re not over, Emerald.Not by a long shot.”
It takes every ounce of my loyalty to the Imperiosi to step outside the door. Someone better be fucking dying because if they aren’t, they’re about to be. And the sooner I deal with whatever shit is happening at the casino, the sooner I can get back here and fucking fix what I broke—or, at least, try to.
Because I plan to do whatever the hell it takes for Emerald Fiorelli to understand. To understand that I don’t think I can live without her now.
CHAPTERFORTY-FOUR
EMERALD
I pack a small bag. I don’t need much for the Bahamas—just a few bikinis, shorts, and tees. And I don’t know why, but I make sure I take the chessboard keychain as well.
And then I get the kids ready to go. The whole time, I fight back tears. I only came back here this evening to collect the kids’ bags. It was planned all along that they would spend the two weeks after the wedding at Jacquetta’s while I was on honeymoon in the Bahamas. And after a whole ton of persuading, Jacquetta convinced me to go on the honeymoon by myself, telling me that I need a break to get over everything.
But I can’t stop thinking about the conversation I had with Saint.
Why did I think it might be different?
He said he’s trying. What does that even mean? He’s trying to what?
Fix things?
Fall in love with me?
But I just can’t do it. Because the things he said—being lucky to have me in his life—sliced what little was left of my heart to ribbons.Because that’s not enough for me anymore.
I usher the kids down the hall and down the stairs. The younger two are looking forward to their mini-vacation at Jacquetta’s place, and even Milena seems to be happy with the idea, probably because she considers Jacquetta to be another older sister.
This is the right thing to do. This is theonlything to do.
I can’t stay with him. Because what’s broken between us isn’t fixable.
But if that’s the case, why does it feel like someone’s ripping my chest open again? Why is guilt gnawing at the insides of my mind, ready to tear me apart? I watch as Saint’s home fades into the dark night.
And before I know it, we’re sitting outside Jacquetta’s mansion. Jaspar, Milena, and Giulietta climb the stairs to the front door with a wave, and Jacquetta ushers them inside with a knowing nod to me.
I take a deep breath, moving my hand over my stomach.
“Where to?”
“Um…” I pause. It’s late, and I have a room booked at a hotel next to the airport for tonight because the flight is early tomorrow morning. But I don’t want to be by myself right now. The walls of the cab close in, and I can feel panic settle in my chest, its icy claws clutching at my throat. “Can you drop me off at this outlet mall?” I ask through gritted teeth as my chest labors faster. I shove my phone at him as I try to remain calm. In control.
The driver arches a brow but nods. I relax into the backseat. Tears burn my eyes, and I blink furiously to keep them back. This is for the best.
It has to be.
And yet, that voice in the back of my head, the one that clings to some flicker of hope, tells me it’s not. Saint might lose it when he sees I’m gone, and maybe a small part of me wants him to be a wreck like I am, instead of his cool and indifferent self. But that only fuels the guilt strangling me.