Chapter 52 Nicolo
NICOLO
Ican’t let this go on.
“Are you sure about this, sir?” Jason, my lawyer, asks as he finalizes the annulment and the transfer of properties papers.
“Yes, I’m sure. Do your fucking job.”
I’ll tell her everything tonight. Bare my soul to her and then give her the choice. She can walk away with everything, and I’ll her go. For real. Or she can choose to be with me. Even if I don’t deserve her.
“Everything is done and laid out on the table for you, sir. Do you need anything else?”
“No. You can leave.”
His steps ring out against the marble. The early morning light peeks through the living room curtains. The staff have been sent home for the week, with full pay. It’s just me and her left here.
It’s not long before the sound of her heels echoes down the hall. She pauses at the entrance of the room, unsure whether to step in or not.
“Sit down, Mara.”
“I don’t—”
“Sit. Down. You will listen, and then you can decide what you want to do. The choice will be yours.”
There’s a beat of silence before the scrape of the chair against the floor sounds in the room.
“You may think that I married you because I want to control you or possess you, but in truth it’s a lot more pathetic than that.”
She doesn’t stop me, so I continue.
“You called me a coward last night. And to be truthful, I agree. I was—am—a coward. I was raised by monsters to be a monster. I didn’t push you away purely because I was scared of feeling emotions. Yes, that was one of the reasons, but not the only reason.”
My chest constricts, and I have to fight myself to see this through to the end.
“My mother wasn’t always a monster.”
Mara inhales sharply at the mention of Helen.
“My father, on the other hand, was. At least to my knowledge. I will tell you this, but once the words are out, you cannot tell Romiro.” When she doesn’t say anything, I say, “I need you to promise.”
“I promise no other soul will hear what you will say.” The words are soft, small, almost as if she’s trying to reassure a feral dog.
“Romiro and I were a product of…rape. Helen used to throw that fact in my face every day of our lives. Romiro probably repressed the memory because he was too young to remember. The night he was conceived, my fath—my sperm donor—made me watch as he brutalized her. She bled for fifteen hours after the fact.”
“That’s enough,” Mara says, her voice broken.
I turn sharply to look at her. Her face is a mess, her eyes red-rimmed and tears falling down her cheeks.
“I don’t want to hear the rest please.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
I rush toward her, pushing her face into my chest. This is fucking painful. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me close.
“I know you didn’t. I know,” she says as she continues to sob.
“I didn’t marry you to control you. I married you because I love you. Because I can’t imagine a day without you. But if you decide you can no longer be with me, then I will let you go.” I pull the papers from the other end of the table and place them in front of her.
She eyes them, pain flashing in her eyes. “What are those, Nicolo?”
Her gaze lifts to mine when I don’t answer her.
“Annulment and transfer of properties papers.”
Mara shakes her head. “Why?”
“You wanted to choose. It’s all in your hands now.”
There’s a beat of silence. She’s watching me with an intensity, and I realize how badly I want to kiss her.
I lean in. The air between us tightens, held in the space of her hesitation. Her breath is already there, caught against my lips.
When our mouths meet, it’s not soft. It’s not hesitant. It’s raw, desperate. A kiss that tastes like a last chance. Like the edge of something that might shatter if we press too hard.
And I do. I press.
Her lips part. She lets me in. But it’s not surrender. Not yet. Her hand finds my chest—not to pull me closer, but to stop me. Her fingers tremble against my chest.
“Wait,” she whispers, breath breaking against my mouth. “I need—”
I pull back an inch, jaw clenched. Her pupils are blown wide, lips kissed red, a smear of emotion across her cheeks.
I could fall into that face. I’ve been falling since the day I saw her. Really saw her.
She closes her eyes for a beat, steadying herself.
Then, voice shaking, “I need time, Nicolo. To think. To feel all of this…properly.”
The words twist like a blade.
I nod once, but the movement costs me. Every instinct screams to pull her back into my arms, into my control, where I know she’s safe—even from herself.
“You have time,” I say, though it tastes like poison. “Take all of it, if you need.”
She looks away. But not before I see it. Want. Ache. Fear.
She feels it too. The pull. The hunger. But something inside her is still resisting. Maybe out of self-preservation, maybe pride. Maybe it’s the echo of everything I’ve done that hasn’t earned me the right to hold her now.
I take a step back. Space. It feels like distance and death.
Mara exhales slowly. “You said I could choose. And you meant it. But Nicolo…you’re not the only one with ghosts.”
My jaw tightens. “I know.”
“And you’re not the only one who’s scared of being owned.”
My heart thuds in my chest. “I wouldn’t own you, Mara.”
She looks up, that sharp spark in her eyes. “But you want to.”
I don’t lie. “Yes. God, yes.”
She walks past me, trailing her fingers along the back of the chair as she moves. Her heels echo like a clock ticking down. She stops at the doorway, spine straight, hand gripping the frame like it’s the only thing holding her up.
“You say you’ll let me go,” she murmurs. “But I don’t think you can.”
I swallow hard. “You’re right.”
Her shoulders rise with a breath. “I’m scared, Nicolo. Of you. Of what I feel for you. I can’t tell if you’ve ruined me or if I’ve been waiting to be ruined.”
My stomach turns inside-out.
She looks over her shoulder, just once. “And I don’t know which answer scares me more.”
Then she’s gone, heels clicking down the hall again, farther this time. Not a run. But not a stay either.
I stand there in the silence she leaves behind. Empty. Burning. Wrecked.
Two Days Later
The documents sit untouched. I haven’t moved. It’s late in the day, and the sun’s beating down.
I should give her time. That’s what I said. That’s what a good man would do. But I’ve never claimed to be good.
I find her in the garden. She’s barefoot, pacing the stone path like it might lead her to clarity. Her arms are wrapped around her body. I wonder if she’s trying to hold herself together or hold something in.
I don’t speak. I just watch her. Let her feel my presence.
Eventually, she turns. Her eyes find mine like they always do. Like she can’t not look.
“I hate you,” she says softly. But there’s no venom, just grief.
I nod. “I know.”
“I want to want to leave you.”
My throat closes. “But you don’t.”
Her lip trembles. “No. I don’t.”
I take a careful step forward. “Then stay.”
Her breath hitches.
“But I don’t want you to stay because you’re scared of leaving,” I say. “I want you to stay because even after everything, you still see something worth choosing.”
She’s trembling now. But she doesn’t back away when I close the distance.
“You gave me the illusion of control,” she says, her voice fraying. “And then offered me freedom. Do you have any idea what that does to a person?”
“I do,” I whisper. “Because that’s what you’ve done to me.”
Silence. And then her hands are on my chest again, fingers fisting in my shirt like she needs something to anchor herself. Her forehead presses to mine.
“I don’t forgive you yet,” she murmurs. “I don’t even trust you yet.”
“I don’t deserve it,” I whisper back.
“But I can’t stop wanting you. And I hate myself for it.”
I take her face in my hands—not to kiss her, but to see her. All of her. The fury. The ache. The desire tangled with everything she’s terrified to admit out loud.
“You’re not weak for wanting me,” I tell her. “You’re strong for not letting it destroy you.”
Tears fall silently. She doesn’t wipe them.
“I need more time,” she says again, but she doesn’t pull away this time.
“I’ll wait,” I promise. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
“Even if I want to leave?”
I don’t answer right away. Because the truth is dark and brutal and shaped like obsession. But I give her the lie she needs to hear.
“Yes,” I say. “Even then.”
But in my bones, I know I’ll never let her go. Not really.