When She Loves (The Fallen, #4)(102)

His hold on me loosens, but he doesn’t release me. “Please, Cleo. Hear me out. I made a mistake pushing you away. I don’t want a fucking divorce.”

He’s too close. I can count each one of his eyelashes.

“Let go of me, or I’ll scream.”

Reluctantly, he drops his hands away. I back away. One step. Two steps. Three. The backs of my knees bump against the sofa.

Why should I let him stop me from doing this? I try again. The ring gets stuck around my knuckle, and for a moment, I worry I won’t be able to get it off after all, but another hard pull, and it slips off. I throw the ring at Rafaele.

“No, Cleo—”

It bounces off the center of his chest. Falls to the floor. Rolls back toward my feet.

Panic and agony skate across Rafaele’s features. He moves quickly, dropping to his knees before me and folding his hands around the ring, like he’s afraid I’ll pick it up and aim for the window this time.

He looks up, his expression so devastated it sends a wave of shock through me.

I watch, stunned, as he leans forward and presses his forehead to my belly. “Please, Cleo,” he whispers hoarsely. “Put it back on. Don’t do this.”

My throat constricts. The anger inside me wavers like a candle flame in a gentle breeze. I can’t believe he’d go this far.

He wraps one arm around my hips, pulling me closer. His lips are against my shirt, pressing a kiss right above my belly button. “It belongs on your finger, tesoro.”

The endearment feels like a stab right through the heart. It reminds me of everything we had and lost. “How dare you?” I hiss. “Do not call me that.”

His hand flexes against my hip. “Okay. I won’t.” He exhales a heavy breath and glances up at me again.

I don’t recognize him. Who is this person? What has he done to the proud man I married? A man who wouldn’t even beg God if it meant getting on his knees?

He takes my hand and puts the ring inside it. “Please.”

Pity blooms inside me, pity and something else that’s not as easy to describe or understand. I’ve tried to harden my heart to him, but I haven’t succeeded yet. There are parts that are still soft, still tender, and they’re weeping.

I’m trembling as I slide the ring back on. “I’m only doing this so that you’ll leave.”

The torment in his face eases. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

His hands slide over my jeans, down the backs of my thighs. “For treating you like a liability. I shouldn’t have shut down and pulled away when you needed me the most. It wasn’t right to blame you for what happened with Nero. It was my fault. I was the one who lost it. I was the one who made mistakes.”

His words exhaust me. I sit down on the edge of the sofa and hang my head. I don’t want to talk about what happened anymore. I’ve spent two weeks trying to come to terms with everything, and I was nearly there before he showed up here uninvited.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say weakly.

He places his palms on my knees. “I should have accepted the fact that I was developing feelings for you instead of running away from it. I kept you at a distance, and I know that must have hurt.”

I shake my head. “Don’t.”

“I was in denial for the months we were together. If I hadn’t been, maybe I could have learned how to process my emotions better. Instead, I did everything I could to pretend that I was in control of the situation. I was a coward.”

I shove his hands away from me. “Stop it. You don’t have feelings for me. You said it yourself, and I heard you loud and clear. I don’t want to listen to this anymore.”

When I stand up and step around him, he reaches for me again. His hand brushes against my calf. “Cleo, please. Don’t do this.”

I move toward the door. “Do what?”

He gets up. “Give up on us.”

“Why would I give another chance to a man who is incapable of love? I deserve better than that, Rafe.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but I’m done. I can’t do this right now, not when my heart is about to splinter. Without giving him a chance to respond, I walk out of the room.











CHAPTER 44











RAFAELE


De Rossi is standing just outside the library. In my haste to go after Cleo, I nearly run into him. His eyes move to Cleo’s retreating form before he levels his gaze back on me. “I don’t think she wants to talk to you right now.”

“I know.” When I first saw her, she looked at me like she wanted to incinerate me, like I was something unholy that had crawled back from the dead.

“What now?”

Great fucking question. I rake my fingers through my hair. I’m not going back to New York. I lost the first battle, but I came here prepared for a long war. I’m not giving up.

“Let me stay here for a few nights.”

De Rossi drags his tongue over his teeth and shakes his head. “Cleo made it clear she doesn’t want you here.”

I bite on the inside of my cheek, tamping down the strong urge to tell him to fuck off. He didn’t have to let me into his house, but I managed to convince him. Barely. It won’t take much for him to rescind that permission.