Chapter 67
Chapter Sixty-Seven
RICCI
Istand rooted to the spot and watch her run away from me. Her bare feet slapping against the stone, the silk robe flaring behind her, and then… she’s gone, disappearing into the warm glow of the living room.
I never wanted her to hear the truth like this.
I had a plan, but it has been compromised by a stupid FBI agent.
I’ve been kept informed that the investigation was heating up.
My sources have been feeding me fragments for weeks, but I didn’t know the FBI would go this far.
Confronting her directly, in a fucking changing room like some cheap thriller.
The idiots were probably certain we had a bad marriage, that she’d jump at the chance to turn on me.
They have no idea what she means to me. None.
I’m so fucking pissed off my vision narrows.
I was hoping I’d have a little more time.
Just enough to put the final pieces of my plan in place, to make sure when I pulled the trigger everything would be clean.
Now it feels like the clock has been smashed forward.
Things need to be accelerated. But none of that matters right now. The only thing that matters is Viola.
I’m so worried about her it feels like something alive is clawing inside my chest.
For a few more frozen seconds, I just stand there, the cool night wind whipping into my hair.
Then I’m moving, my heart hammering hard enough that I feel it in my throat. I take the stairs two at a time. I knock briskly on her closed door.
“Viola,” I call, my voice low but steady. “Open the door.”
No answer.
I lean my forehead against the wood for a second, listening. I can hear her moving inside — soft footsteps, the faint rustle of something, but she doesn’t come to the door. My hand curls into a fist at my side.
“I’m not leaving,” I tell her through the wood. “Not until we talk.”
Silence stretches. Then, finally, the lock clicks. The door opens just a crack, and there she is: eyes red, face pale, that guarded coolness she used to wear like armor has slipped back into place. She looks at me like I’m a stranger, and it cuts deeper than any bullet ever could.
“I need to be alone,” she says, voice small but edged. “I need to think.”
I don’t move. My hand stays braced on the doorframe, keeping it from closing. “I know you have a lot of questions,” I say, forcing my tone to stay calm, even though my pulse is roaring in my ears. “I’m ready to answer every single one. Right now. Whatever you need.”
She shakes her head, eyes dropping to the floor between us. “I’m not in the right mind to process anything clearly right now. Just… give me some space. Please, Ricci.”
The way she says my name in that cold voice hits me harder than I thought possible.
I want to push inside, pull her into my arms, make her see that none of this changes how I feel.
But I see the tremble in her shoulders, the way she’s holding herself together by a thread.
I understand. I hate it, but I understand.
I let my hand fall from the doorframe. “Alright,” I say quietly. “I’ll give you space.”
She doesn’t look at me again. The door closes between us with a soft, final click.
I stand there for another long moment, staring at the wood like it might open again if I wait long enough. My chest feels tight with worry. But there are loose ends — the kind that won’t wait. The investigation is moving faster than I planned, and I need to handle it before it spirals any further.
I turn and head back downstairs. The penthouse feels too quiet without her voice, too empty without her beside me. Quickly, I grab my jacket from the chair where I dropped it earlier. I step into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a soft hush.
I’ll be back as soon as I can.
But right now, the only way to protect her is to go out there and make sure the world doesn’t take her from me. I drive out into the night, and the city swallows me up again.