Page 58 of Seduced By the Enemy

“You’re a fantasist. That hatred doesn’t exist in a void,” Max growled. “To us, you may as well be the devil incarnate. We cannot have you in our lives. If that means cutting out Emilia, then it is as it has to be.”

“Do you hear yourself?”

“You think you’re the only one living with this? The only one suffering through it? You think we don’t miss her? She is our best friend. We loved her first, and we will love her always. When all this bullshit is over and she comes home, inevitably ruined by you and your family, we will be there to pick up the pieces. How can you possibly ask us for more than that?”

The reality they painted was so bleak, so unbearably bleak, that Salvatore stumbled back a step. “That’s not going to happen.”

“No? Then what is? What’s the end result of this? Do you think you’re going to end up living happily ever after?”

A whole future formed in his mind in the blink of an eye. He saw his life, long and expansive before him, and he saw his life without Emilia in it. He couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t bear it.

“Yes. I think she and I have made it abundantly clear that’s what we want.”

“And is that what you’ve got?” Max demanded. “Are either of you truly happy, knowing what you’ve done to us? And presumably to your family?”

Salvatore absorbed that like a body blow, because it was so very accurate. Of course their happiness was marred by theawful truth of this betrayal. “I love her,” he said, simply. “I cannot end it.”

“Even when you know what we do?”

“And what’s that?”

“Emilia could be happy with any number of men. In staying with her, you’re making it impossible for us to be in her life. Are you okay with that?”

His gut churned. How often had he thought that? How often had he grappled with the reality of what their relationship was doing to their loved ones.

“If you love her, you have to walk away. It’s that simple.”

Salvatore shook his head. “Why can you not give this—us—a chance? You don’t know me. You don’t know what we’re like as a couple. Spend time with us—see that you’re wrong. I’m begging you.”

And if either Max or Leandro knew what it took for a man like Salvatore to arrive, cap in hand, and beg, they would have understood that it was absolutely everything they needed to know about his devotion to their sister. For he was not a man to debase himself and beg; he was not a man to plead. But for Emilia, there was no end to what he’d do.

“It’s impossible,” Max said, but his eyes showed, briefly sympathy.

“You have to understand,” Leandro said, with the same expression on his features—a look, for a moment, of compassion. “This is never going to happen. You can stay with her, but one day, she’s going to wake up and resent you for it. She’s going to wake up and want to come home; and you’ll never be able to give her that.”

Salvatore’s gut churned with a nauseating sense of loss—and the certainty that they were right. The worst thing was, he’d known it all along. He hadn’t been ready to walk away fromEmilia—he probably never would be. But that didn’t negate the necessity of it.

“I love her,” he said, because he needed them to understand that. To know what they were asking of him. And then, staring into their eyes as if his life depended on their comprehension—which, in a way it did, “Please, promise me you’ll take care of her. Don’t punish her for any of this. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Max closed his eyes.

But panic gripped Salvatore. “I need to know she’ll be okay. If I’m not in her life, I need to know she’s safe, that no harm will come to her.”

“We wouldneverhurt our sister,” Leandro contradicted.

But that wasn’t what Salvatore meant. The deep, dark fear that had dogged him for so long clawed its way around him, now. If he was going to break up with Emilia, he couldn’t worry that her life would fall apart. Because of him. Panic surged through his chest, even when he accepted that putting her through this temporary pain would ultimately be right for her. Because she’d meet someone else, they were right. And then, she’d be happier, and have her family.

“Swear on your lives,” he growled, “that she’ll be okay. That you’ll take care of her.”

They stared at each other, all three of them, for several beats, and Max nodded once, before extending his hand. Salvatore regarded it, long and hard, knowing that to take it was to make a deal with the devil. Worse, it was to sign the death warrant on his relationship with Emilia. He could hardly bear it.

Only the deepest love in the world would demand it of him.

He held out his hand, to take Max’s, and he shook, firmly, with determination. It was a promise—and he felt it, deep in his gut. For her sake, he had to set Emilia free. He just wished he’d had the courage to do it sooner, before she’d gone through all this hardship. Before he’d lost his heart and soul to her.

16

THE CERTAINTY THAT HE had to end it evaporated completely when he walked into his apartment—which he now thought of as theirs—and saw Emilia. Wearing dark jeans and a black sweater, she had a camera strap looped around her neck, and the camera held to her face, as she peered through the lens. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder, and she was concentrating so deeply, she didn’t turn when he entered. He stared at her, his heart shifting in his chest and thumping hard, so that every fibre of his being rejected this—what he was about to do. Every part of him wanted to cling to every part of her, forever.

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