Chapter 20
Jude
“So… what do you think?” Gio asks, once the Cranes have left, dropping not one bomb—but two on us.
“About what?”
“Come on, Vince. Don’t play dumb with me.” Gio’s eyes gleam with something between amusement and calculation. “You were just as shocked as I was to learn that Crane is stepping down this year. Not only that, but to hand his seat over to his daughter? You got to give it to him, that was one bold ass move.”
“She seems capable enough,” my father replies in his usual monotone tone. “Besides, the British have always been more progressive regarding these things. I was neither surprised nor shocked that Crane named Mina as his successor. Who else could’ve been?”
“Not those twins, for one,” Dom adds his own two cents into the conversation. “One of them looked like he had a few screws loose in the head. And the other? Fuck. I got chills just looking into his eyes.”
“Remus and Rolo aren’t everyone’s cup of tea,” I chime in.
“They sure as fuck don’t like you, that’s for sure,” Dom retorts. “I had half a mind to rearrange their pretty faces just to stop them from mad-dogging you. The fuck happened between you three anyway?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
Dom’s forehead creases, not believing what I’m selling.
“Who gives a rat’s ass about the psycho twins. It’s Mina who stole the show for me. The way she corrected me when I called her Miss Crane? I guess it’s true what they say about the apple not falling far from the tree because that girl has a set of balls on her,” Gio muses, his gaze flicking toward me. “I’m not surprised you wanted to forget any beef you had with her cousins, but I’m surprised you never mentioned Mina to us before.”
“There was never much to say,” I lie again, forcing my expression to remain indifferent.
Gio hums, unconvinced, before turning his attention back onto my father.
“Well, I like her. She’s smart. Tough. Doesn’t scare easy. She’ll be useful.”
“ Useful? ” I repeat the word as if it were a curse. “Is that what we’ve been reduced to? Measuring people by what they can offer us… like an asset?” My voice cuts through the room like a blade.
“Yes,” my father deadpans without hesitation. “Allies like the Cranes keep us one step ahead of our enemies. That’s the very definition of an asset. And thinking otherwise is insulting to them and us. Or do you not think they believe the same thing about us?”
I don’t say anything in return.
I don’t want to.
I’m too tightly wound as it is.
Thankfully, Gio shifts the conversation along. “Do you believe her? About Dimitri just being the muscle and that some mystery person is playing him like a puppet for their own gain?”
Vincent exhales, his eyes darkening. “I believe the Cranes have more intel than we do. That’s what I believe.”
“If they are right, then this master of puppets might be a real danger to us and come for the Outfit next. They seem ambitious enough. Don’t you agree?”
My father pauses in deep thought before giving Gio a slow nod.
“I do. But I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth. Get me Dimitri.”
“That can be arranged, boss,” Dominic interjects smoothly. “We’ll keep an eye on the docks and make sure to track every shady container. Like the girl said, let the rat think he’s pulling a fast one over us. He’ll be easier to catch that way.”
“Good,” Vincent murmurs. “In the meantime, I’ll set up a meeting with the other families to keep them in the loop. We need as many men as we can get. If someone tries to hurt the syndicate in any shape or form, we’ll flush them out.” I then watch my father get up from his seat, straighten his cuffs, and put on his coat. “Now that that’s settled, I have other matters to attend to. I promised Selene I’d be home tonight for dinner with her and the kids.”
“Jude, Dom, and I will deal with the logistics of your order. Don’t worry,” Gio states assuredly. “We’ll meet up with you later.”
Vincent nods and heads for the door, but before he steps out, he glances back at us with an inscrutable expression.
“The Crane girl… Mina,” he muses. “How old is she?”
“Twenty-six as of last month,” I inform before Gio can.
My father takes that piece of information in, suddenly looking weary.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Dominic asks my father whilst leaning back against the wall with crossed arms.
“Of course he is. Aren’t you?” Gio frowns. “Are you sure it was a good idea to invite the Cranes over for dinner tomorrow?”
“I am.”
Gio whistles low. “Selene won’t like it. She won’t like it one bit.”
“No. No, she will not,” my father agrees, his gaze turning somber. “But that’s tomorrow’s problem. Not tonight’s. Tonight, I intend to have a quiet dinner with my kids and wife. It might be the last peaceful one I’ll have for a while.”
It’s only when my father leaves with that parting remark that I grab Gio’s arm to get some much-needed answers.
“Why would my mother have a problem with the Cranes coming over tomorrow?”
“Because,” Gio exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Mina’s proof that a woman can have a real place in the famiglia. Don’t tell me you haven’t put it together yet?”
As I hear those words, a cold realization starts to sink into my gut. “Stella. Fuck.”
“Ding, ding, ding,” Gio bellows. “The second your sister sees that another syndicate has not only initiated a woman into their ranks but is willing to claim her as the boss, Stella will not only want into the Outfit, she’ll fucking demand it. And your mother? She might not have been able to save her sons, but it will be a cold day in hell before she will let her daughters suffer the same fate.”
“In other words, what Gio is saying is to buy some ear mufflers before you come over to the house, kid. Be prepared to start hearing a lot of bickering and fighting at home,” Dom advises, not looking happy either.
“Just like Crane, waltzing in and fuck things up again,” Gio grumbles in frustration.
“That’s not fair. It’s not Victor’s fault. Or Mina’s.”
Gio snorts. “Doesn’t matter. That’s not how your parents will see it. To them, a Crane—even if unintentionally—has yet again managed to fuck up our peace.”
I make my way to the gym to exercise away the tension clawing at me. The rhythmic thud of fists hitting a bag greets me the instant I step inside. Marcello is already here, beads of sweat rolling down his temple as he pummels the heavy bag as if it personally wronged him.
“Grandpa should just set up a cot for you in the back,” I call out. “You basically live here.”
“He won’t let me,” Marcello grunts between strikes. “I already asked.”
“Of course you did.” I chuckle while rolling my shoulders back. “Mind holding the bag for me? I need to hit something. Like yesterday. ”
Marcello stills, his eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”
“Who said anything is wrong?”
“You’re not the violent type, Jude,” he says, unaware that, in our world, it isn’t exactly a good thing to say out loud—especially to a made man. “If you need to punch something so bad, it means something’s eating at you. So, what is it? Maybe I can help.”
“Am I that easy to read?” I ask in jest.
“Only to the people who know you best.”
A small smile crests my lips at his remark.
Marcello is one of the few people I trust implicitly. Even when he looks like he’s being possessed by some demonic power, I know that I can trust him with my life.
“Tell me,” he urges on.
“Just fighting ghosts from my past.” I sigh while he helps me to put the gloves on. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“It’s not nothing. Is it the Bratva? Is that what’s troubling you?”
“I wish,” I mutter in contempt. “But no.”
Marcello watches me carefully, studying me intently as our father is so prone to do.
“Does it have anything to do with the Cranes arriving today?” he asks after a pregnant pause.
“Who told you they were coming to Chicago?” My spine stiffens.
He doesn’t answer.
“Now who’s keeping secrets?” I let out a humorless laugh. “It was either Mom or Stella. They’re the only troublemakers I know who would be whispering Outfit business in your ear.”
Marcello doesn’t deny it. Instead, he just studies me with those sharp eyes of his.
“Punching a bag won’t solve your problems, brother,” he says, moving off-topic.
“This coming from a guy who basically lives at the gym to avoid his.” I scoff.
“I’m not avoiding anything,” he quickly defends. “And Nonno Carmine’s gym isn’t the only place I like to hang out.” He flashes a little, almost secretive, smile. “I like going to the library, too.”
“To what? Exercise the mind?”
“Something like that.” His shy smile widens.
I shake my head, chuckling, but before I can tease him further, his expression shifts to an earnest, serious one.
“If you won’t talk to me about what’s bothering you, then can I give you some advice?”
“Sure. Why the hell not?” I throw my hands in the air.
“If you honestly want to deal with all that rage and anger bubbling inside you, then instead of punching a bag, confront what triggered it in the first place. Do that before whatever is eating you up inside consumes you.”
“Fuck. That’s actually quite perceptive. Who taught you something like that?”
Marcello’s timid smile fades, his voice going quiet, melancholy setting in.
“Our father.”
I don’t respond to his remark, letting the silence stretch between us instead.
My relationship with my father has been complicated, to say the least. These past few years, separating the personal from the professional has been tricky, and it took me a while to figure out when I’m speaking to my father and when I was facing the head of the Outfit.
However, Marcello has it worse.
Our father is stricter with him, more demanding, less loving, and whatever happened between them in the past has left Marcello seeing only the Boss side of Vincent, and hardly ever the father. “Has Dad talked to you recently?” I probe, wondering if my father already broke the news to him about his imminent induction to the Outfit.
“About?” He arches a quizzical brow.
“Nothing,” I quickly play off since it’s obvious he doesn’t know yet. A part of me wants to warn Marcello, but I can’t. Our father would know that I tipped him off, leaving Marcello to undoubtedly bear the brunt of his anger. “So, your advice is to tackle the problem head-on?” I ask, steering the conversation away from our father.
Though, to be fair, talking about Mina is just as troubling.
“Do you know a better way to conquer your demons?” Marcello counters poignantly.
“No. No, I don’t.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a migraine coming on
“Didn’t think so.”
I replay the last few hours in my mind and how none of it went down like I would have hoped.
A part of me expected Mina to pick a fight the moment she saw me on the tarmac, giving me the perfect excuse to pull her back into my orbit. But instead, Mina kept her walls stacked up so high that no amount of climbing could ever breach them.
She looked as beautiful as ever. Dressed in a stunning white Alexander McQueen suit with her long, raven hair cascading over her shoulders, she was an absolute vision as she walked down the airstair. And yet, her beauty was the only trace left of the girl I once knew.
She looked a bit harder.
Meaner.
Sadder.
But it’s like Marcello said. I’ll never get Mina out of my mind if I don’t at least have one fucking conversation with her.
We deserve some fucking closure, don’t we?
Fuck it.
I pull off my gloves and ruffle Marcello’s blond hair, earning an annoyed grunt from him.
“See you back at the house?” I ask since Marcello has been staying over at my place for the last couple of weeks.
“Actually, I promised Mom I’d sleep at home tonight.”
“Alright. Just remember, you’re always welcome at my place anytime.”
“I know.” He nods with a slight gleam in his eyes.
After saying goodbye to my little brother, I don’t linger. Instead, I make a few phone calls, take a quick shower, and then slip into my suit-like armor. A few minutes later, I’m behind the wheel of my car, speeding through the city streets, the Crane penthouse being my destination.
By the time I arrive, I’m pleased to see Tony in the lobby, accompanied by seven of my men, waiting for me.
“Where to, boss?” Tony asks, looking ready for the challenge I set out for him.
“Follow me.”
We take the elevator to the Cranes’ penthouse apartment, and the minute we reach the door, I give Tony the go-ahead to knock the thing off its hinges.
“The fuck?!” I hear Rolo call out first when he sees my men charge into their living room.
“Took you long enough,” I think I hear Remus mutter under his breath, but I must have misheard him. Because when my men slam him against the wall beside his brother, guns pressed to their heads, all Remus does is curse at me in response.
I don’t waste time and grab his chin to look at me.
“Where is she?”
“Fuck you.”
“Is she upstairs?” I ask again.
“You hard of hearing or something? As my brother said, fuck you!” Rolo yells, cackling away as if it were all very amusing to him, while Remus curses me with one scathing look.
Sensing that these assholes won’t tell me her location, I leave them under Tony’s supervision.
“Don’t take your eyes off them for a second. And whatever you do, don’t underestimate them either. There may be nine of us and only two of them, but numbers mean nothing against men like them. I’ve seen them walk away from worse odds without so much as a scratch. And trust me—they don’t like leaving people they deem have wronged them alive either.”
“Aww, I’m touched. You remembered,” Rolo coos, batting his eyelashes at me mockingly.
“Just play nice, boys. All I want to do is talk to her. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“You got ten minutes,” Remus warns, not even pretending to struggle from his restraint.
“I need at least an hour,” I counter non-negotiably.
“Like I give a fuck what you need. You came into our house, waving your guns. Wars have started for less.”
“An hour, Remus,” I repeat so he understands I won’t be intimidated.
“You got thirty minutes. After that, me and Rolo start bashing heads in.”
My men look confused at the threat, since the twins are outnumbered in men and guns. But they fail to realize that Remus and Rolo could kill each and every one of them without even breaking a sweat.
“Fine,” I grit out.
“I’m glad we understand each other. Mina is upstairs.”
The words have barely left his mouth, and I’m already moving, taking the stairs two at a time. I open door after door, finding room after room completely empty. When I get to the master suite, I find her inside. But it’s how I find her that has me at a loss for words.
With her back to me, Mina is lying in a tub big enough for two. The steam is curling around her, and the water is laced with foam, the backdrop of the city skyline stretching out through the massive window at her side. I swear I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the sight before me.
Even though she hears my approaching steps, she doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t so much as flinch at my presence.
“By the racket downstairs, you owe me a door,” she says, her voice distantly calm.
I fucking hate it.
“I’ll make sure to get maintenance to repair it before I leave.”
I step closer, my pulse a steady drum.
“Good,” she replies, using a washcloth to lavish her arms with jasmine-scented bubbles. “And my cousins?”
“I made sure to keep them entertained for a while.”
My fingers tighten at my sides as I take another step, getting close enough to see her face from an angle.
Fuck.
Whoever said that time heals all wounds is a liar. Looking at her gorgeous face at this very moment brings back all the misery I endured for not being able to see her for the past five years.
And then it hits me. I didn’t just bombard Mina’s home so I could face my past sins head-on, as Marcello suggested. I didn’t come here tonight to have one last conversation with her, hoping we could be cordial moving forward. I don’t want closure—I want her. I’ve always wanted her. And no amount of time will erase that craving inside me. It lives and breathes in me like a beast raging to be released from its confinement. It will only ever be satiated when Mina is back in my arms, where she belongs.
“I doubt you invaded my home just to stand there and stare at me,” she says in her usual detached tone that I’ve come to despise so much.
“You’re right,” I reply, my voice just as even as hers. “I didn’t. Though I must say, I’m enjoying the view.”
Mina doesn’t spare me even a glance at that remark, but the way her cheeks start to pinken a little, I can tell it affected her.
Of course, it could always be the heat of the water making her cheeks flush, but I prefer to think it’s me.
“Do you intend on keeping me in suspense for long? Or am I supposed to guess why you interrupted my bath?”
I remove my suit jacket and place it on the sink counter before approaching the tub.
“We didn’t get to speak much earlier today. I thought I could remedy that,” I explain nonchalantly before sitting on the edge of the tub.
Mina continues to look unbothered by the fact that she is lying naked under the bubbles, just inches away from my hands.
“You want to talk?”
“I want to do a great many things right now, Mina, but yes… I’ll content myself with just talking.”
Again, she refuses to look at me, but by the way she’s trying hard to keep her breathing even, I know I’m getting under her skin. It’s only fair, considering she’s lived under mine for what feels like an eternity.
“Very well. If you came here to talk, then by all means, talk.”
“First of all, let me congratulate you on your upcoming promotion,” I say while unbuttoning my cuffs and rolling my sleeves up to my elbows. “That’s quite an accomplishment. Becoming the boss of such an illustrious syndicate as the Firm.”
“Thank you.” Her voice remains clipped.
“I must say you made quite the impression on my father.”
“Which one?” she retorts, thinking it will cut me. Little does she know I’ve been slowly bleeding out for the last five years or so.
“All three,” I reply, testing the water with my fingers.
When she doesn’t so much as move, I decide it’s safe to keep trailing my fingers up and down the foam.
“I have to admit that I was equally impressed by them. They were exactly how you painted them in my mind,” she confesses, her voice now low.
“I’m glad you liked them.” I smile softly. “Tomorrow, you’ll meet the rest of the family. It will be curious to see how you react to them.”
“Are you afraid that they won’t be as impressed?”
“No.” I shake my head, a frown replacing my previous smile. “They’ll love you. How could they not?”
Mina takes a deep breath, her shoulders stiffening somewhat, raising her knees up in the tub as a way of protecting herself. However, the move is a bad one as it draws my eyes away from her face and onto her curvy body. I swallow dryly, watching beads of water and soap bubbles run down her thighs, getting lost underwater and kissing the apex in between her thighs.
Not being able to stop myself, I reach for her thigh and use one finger to write my name on her skin.
Mina doesn’t pull away, letting my fingers wander up and down her thigh with abandon.
My cock starts to swell, hardening to the point of pain.
Craving something to distract me before I do something rash like pull her out of this godforsaken bathtub, I question her further. “Why didn’t your father make the trip? How is he?”
This time, Mina spins her head in my direction with venom in her gaze and asks, “What do you care?” I lower my brows, my shoulders slumping with the hatred swimming in her eyes.
“I care for your father, Mina. He was my mentor. I loved him.”
“Right,” she scoffs, turning her eyes away from mine. “You care so much that you haven’t picked up the phone to talk to him in the past five years.”
“Not because I didn’t want to,” I defend wholeheartedly. “But because it hurt hearing the disappointment in his voice. I never meant to betray his trust. Nor did I ever imagine my father would retaliate the way he did.”
“Spare your apologies for someone who actually wants to hear them. As far as my father is concerned, that’s all in the past. He’s moved on from that disappointment.”
“What about you? Have you moved on?”
She doesn’t reply and instead sits up in the tub to grab a shampoo bottle.
My mind goes blank staring at her breasts, the soap bubbles slowly moving toward her perfect, diamond-studded nipples.
“If you plan to bore me with tales of the past, then at least make yourself useful,” she says before shoving the shampoo bottle into my chest.
I place the bottle on the floor and get up, taking the watch off my wrist before unbuttoning my shirt.
When she sees me taking my shirt off, she asks accusingly, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m going to wash your hair,” I retort with a goading grin, pretending to have to take my shirt off to do the task she so politely implied.
By the look in her eyes, I can tell she regrets making such a move. But I refuse to back down now. I take a seat at the border of the tub, just behind her head, using my fingers to brush her hair. It’s just as silky and soft as I remember it to be. I would spend hours in bed talking to Mina while my fingers brushed through every lock of her jet-black hair.
She must sense I’m lost in a memory of us because she slides under the water before coming up, every strand of her hair soaked now.
Sensing her move is my cue to start, I pick the shampoo bottle from the floor and spill the coconut-scented shampoo into my palms. I then commence washing her hair, making sure to massage her scalp. Her tense shoulders instantly relax under my touch.
“Daddy’s sick,” she says after a while, causing my brows to furrow. “That’s why he didn’t come with us to Chicago. The doctors scheduled more exams, so he had to stay in London.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her with the utmost sincerity, “Do they know what he has?”
“The doctors say that it’s melanoma.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, love.”
She shakes her head, not wanting me to hear the grief in her voice.
“All those weekends spent outside under the sun hunting finally caught up with him. But he’ll get through it. Over ninety-five percent of skin cancers are successfully treated if found early, so I have no doubt my father will fight this sickness with all his might.”
I lean down, place a tender kiss on the back of her neck, and then whisper in her ear, “Victor will do more than just fight it. He’ll obliterate it. He’d never leave you if he could prevent it.”
When Mina refuses to say another word on the subject, I return to the task and finish washing her hair.
“Dip,” I order her softly so I can rinse the shampoo out of her hair. She does this a few times until it’s nice and clean.
I then slant her head back and lay it on my lap, her hair drenching the fabric of my pants.
“What are you doing?” she asks, wide-eyed.
“Looking at you.”
Her forehead creases, but she doesn’t move a muscle, letting my fingers trail over her gorgeous face.
“You’re just as beautiful as I remember,” I rush to say softly, running the pads of my fingers over her temple, nose, cheeks, and chin, trying to reacquaint myself with every new freckle, new perfect imperfection on her flawless face.
“Let go,” she says when my eyes lower to her lips.
I do as she says, but I don’t dare leave my spot.
“Best you check on whoever you have babysitting the twins downstairs,” she advises. “If I know my cousins, they’re getting restless right about now.”
“If that’s your not-so-subtle way of telling me to get lost, I’m not leaving.”
“I can’t understand why not. You shouldn’t even be here,” she says, with little heat in her voice.
“There are a lot of things I shouldn’t be doing,” I murmur, my eyes locked on her as my arm stretches out to grab her breast, giving it a hard squeeze. And when she arches her back, I take full advantage of the moment. “This, for one.” And then I crash my lips on hers.
Unsatisfied with just one kiss, I jump into the tub, grab her by the nape of her neck, and kiss her as if my very life depends on it.
At first, she struggles to escape my grip, and though she’s grown more fierce than I remember her to be, she still can’t match my strength. She bites my lower lip hard, coaxing blood to trickle down my chin.
“Bite me. Fight me. Hurt me. I don’t care. This shit is happening,” I growl, forcing my tongue into her mouth, and groaning into it the second she begins to kiss me back, her naked body molding instantly to mine.
“I hate you,” she says breathlessly, coming up for air.
“I know. I know,” I repeat huskily, loosening my grip around her neck in favor of grabbing her hips to plant her ass down on my lap. My mouth finds hers again as she wraps her legs around me in a vise grip, rubbing her pussy up and down my hard length while her fingers unbuckle my belt. She then pulls down my zipper, releasing my cock from its confinement.
This is all too reckless, too hateful, but neither of us seems to be able to stop.
Instead of using our words, we choose to fight with our lips, tongue, and teeth.
The only time we break our kiss is when she sinks her tight pussy down my shaft, strangling it in agonizing pleasure.
“Fuck,” I groan, pulling her lips back to mine.
She takes charge and fucks me with wild abandon, fast and hard.
If I had any foolish notions that I would take my time in worshiping Mina, given the chance of making love to her again, I was sorely mistaken.
Mina doesn’t want tenderness right now—she wants brutality. Fuck, do I relent and give her whatever she needs.
Mina continues to hate-fuck me as she moans into our kiss. She then pulls away to loll her head back, sinking her nails into my shoulders.
Unhappy at not being able to kiss her, I grab her throat and pull her up.
“Look at me,” I growl like a man gone mad.
Her half-mast gaze locks with mine, her wanton little whimpers of pleasure doing my head in.
I press her temple against mine, ensuring we breathe the same air, our chests heaving in sync. Like this, staring at each other, losing ourselves in our gaze, we combust and fall apart.
Her pussy clenches around me, milking me dry as I thrust myself right to the hilt. Our heavy breathing remains ragged as we continue to stare into each other’s eyes, too lost for words. But when I go for another kiss, Mina unlatches my hold on her and steps out of the tub. I watch her as she grabs a robe and puts it on, leaving it unfastened.
Confused by her demeanor, I step out of the tub, ready to demand she talk to me. However, my mind goes blank the second she picks up a ring from the counter with the biggest fucking diamond I have ever seen.
“What the fuck is that?” I all but shout.
“What does it look like?” Mina doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even look minimally remorseful as she waves the fucking diamond in my face.
“It looks like a fucking engagement ring, Mina. That’s what it looks like.” My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the glint of that damned diamond on her finger.
A slow, lazy smile starts to tug at her lips, tilting her hand so the light catches it just right. “It really is stunning, isn’t it?”
I step closer, my voice low and sharp. “Mina, don’t fucking toy with me right now. Are you—”
“Engaged?” She lifts her chin up at me. “As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I am.”
The word slams into my chest like a bullet.
“You can’t be serious right now?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you think just because we fucked, I’d come running back to you?” She laughs, a cruel, cutting sound. “No, Jude. That ship sailed a long time ago. In a couple of months, I’ll be Mrs. Ibrahim.”
Felix.
“I should’ve known. That motherfucker always did covet what was mine.”
“Except, I was never yours, Jude.” Her voice is like ice, slicing straight through me. “You never claimed me. You never even wanted to. Remember?”
I just stare at her, stunned.
Speechless.
Hurt.
She sees it, too. Sees me grappling with the weight of it all, the amusement in her eyes only deepening the pain I feel inside.
“Oh, my God,” she murmurs mockingly. “Did I do it? Did I actually manage to cut the great Jude Romano’s cold, black heart?”
“This isn’t fucking funny, Mina.”
“On the contrary,” she says, leaning back against the sink, completely unbothered. “I find it hilarious.”
Something inside me snaps.
Before I can stop myself, I’m on her. My hand wraps around her slender throat, fingers pressing just enough to feel her pulse hammer beneath my grip.
Her eyes don’t widen. Don’t fill with fear. They grow colder. Harder.
“What are you going to do, Jude?” she whispers. “Kill me?”
“No,” I rasp, my jaw tightening. “Your fiancé, on the other hand, has his days numbered. I’ll make you a widow before he’ll ever make you his wife.”
She laughs, breathless but not afraid, standing with nothing but an open robe and that fucking ring on her finger.
She didn’t even keep my necklace.
“You forfeited any say in what I do with my life a long time ago,” she taunts. “Don’t act like the jilted lover now.”
I swallow hard, fighting the storm inside me. “Do you love him?”
For the first time since stepping out of the tub, she falters. Her eyes widen slightly as if she wasn’t expecting the question to come out of my mouth.
“That,” she says slowly, “is none of your concern.”
“Mina,” I press, loosening my grip while pinning her body against the sink, demanding her to answer the question. “Do you love him?”
Her lips part, but the truth never comes.
“Love is inconsequential,” she finally murmurs. “Jude Romano taught me that.”
Something sharp twists inside me—a wound, never fully healed, now ripped open again.
I did this to her.
Me.
I not only broke my own heart when I left, but I also eviscerated hers.
“I never meant to hurt you.” My voice is raw, barely above a whisper.
“You never meant a lot of things,” she quips back.
“Maybe not,” I admit. “But I meant one thing, even if I never had the courage to tell you. I did love you, Mina. More than life itself.”
Do.
I do love you.
But the misery of learning about her engagement prevents me from telling her the whole truth—my truth.
Unfortunately for me, the minute the words spill from my mouth, her expression turns to steel.
“Lies,” she breathes. “If that were true, you would’ve stayed.”
“I couldn’t. Life was too complicated back then.”
“Newsflash, Jude, it still is,” she says, pushing me away with all her might.
“Mina—”
“You should go now.”
I shake my head. “Mina, no. We need to talk about this. I need to explain—”
“Don’t you get it?” Her gaze hardens. “I don’t want to hear your justifications. The time that I yearned for them is long gone.”
“Mina—”
“Leave. Leave before we say or do something we’ll both regret.” I don’t move. Not at first. “I’m dead serious. Leave. Now, Jude!”
Reluctantly, I do as she says. I pick up my clothes and watch from the counter, my chest tight with everything I should’ve said years ago. And then I walk out, leaving Mina behind.
Again.