CHAPTER 39
ROXANNE
Marcello opened the door.
His jaw was tight. Eyes unreadable—like he’d swallowed something bitter and refused to spit it out.
“The boys are planning an impromptu bachelor’s party for Sahil. They want you to join.”
The voice was casual—Vihaan’s. Had he followed me all the way here?
Marcello spoke slowly, careful not to say anything that might set him off.
“I’m busy. I’m not really—” His voice faltered.
Vihaan pushed past him like he owned the damn place and entered the room. His eyes landed on me. I was sitting on Marcello’s bed, arms crossed, face unreadable.
His expression shifted—surprise, then something darker. Like a man remembering he’d let go of something he suddenly wanted back. Possessiveness. Rage. Jealousy, maybe. All the things he had no right to feel anymore.
We’d been officially separated for over two months, but ever since Marcello arrived, Vihaan’s attitude had twisted into a territorial overdrive.
“Well, what a surprise. What are you doing here? Don’t you have your own room?” He sneered. “Should I send in some strawberries?”
I refused to give him the drama he was hungry for.
“With champagne and a better attitude.” I didn’t blink.
He turned to Marcello, jaw tight.
“Busy with her… or doing her?”
The words hit like a slap. Crude. Calculated. Designed to wound. My stomach dropped. The room went still. Marcello moved fast—his hand gripped Vihaan’s collar. He spoke in a low, lethal voice.
“Don’t you ever speak about her like that.”
The room vibrated with a violence neither man was willing to unleash fully. Vihaan scoffed and yanked himself free.
“Ooh. Touchy.”
He looked at me once more, then stormed out.
I followed, my voice sharp, slicing through the tension.
“Vihaan. Wait.”
Marcello reached for me instinctively, but I stopped him with a look.
“Let me handle this.”
I ran after Vihaan into the garden that separated our rooms—lined with trees and flowering shrubs, benches tucked beneath the shade for guests to sit and pretend they weren’t watching. The scent of jasmine clung to the air.
Marcello was watching. His gaze burned between my shoulder blades—like he was bracing for heartbreak.
I could feel it. And I knew this would gut him. But if I had any future with him, I couldn’t let my past with Vihaan haunt us like a ghost.
Marcello’s presence had rewired Vihaan. Whether it was Kyra or me, he couldn’t hide his jealousy. I yanked his hand and grabbed his wrist before he could enter his room.
“Vihaan. Stop. Talk to me.”
My voice cracked—not because I wanted him back, but because endings were always messy.
“We’re done, Roxanne. What’s left to say?”
“Does it bother you? Seeing Marcello here. With me?” I needed to hear him say it.
“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s all happening too fast.”
“Vihaan, I gave you the chance. And I told you the truth about Marcello.”
“But he disappeared on you. Left you to fend for yourself when you were against wolves.”
I shut my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
“He came back. He’s trying. If I could give you a chance, I could give him one too. I don’t remember you being there either.”
“You sent Kyra with me.” His voice cracked.
“And for the right reasons. Are you angry at him—or the idea that there may be something real between him and me?”
His flinch gave me all the answers he wouldn’t say.
“Do you think there’s something real? You think he’s different, Roxanne? That he won’t hurt you like the rest of us?”
“I don’t know. But I’d rather take a chance on someone who fights for me—than someone who only shows up when it’s convenient.”
My voice didn’t shake. Not this time. Not for him. He looked away, jaw clenched. Then sighed.
“It’s too much, Roxy. I’ve seen the way he looks at you—it feels like a knife stabbing me. And Kyra… she’s so… comfortable with him. I feel like I’m losing you both.”
I stepped closer, cupped his face gently.
“You’ll always be Kyra’s father. No one can take that away. And as for me… we’re done as a couple, but we’ll always share a bond. We’ll always be Kyra’s parents. I’d never let anyone replace that.”
He had tears in his eyes, and we just stood there, hugging each other.
“Do you love him?” he asked—barely a whisper, like the answer might break him.
The truth clawed up my throat, desperate, trembling. I bit my lip, silent. He smiled, soft and sad.
“If you love him… I’ll support you. Whatever you choose.”
I kissed his cheek and headed back.
I needed to stop by Marcello’s room to tell him it was just a misunderstanding. Just bruised male ego. Nothing more.
The crickets chirped loudly as I headed back to my room, heart pounding, mind spinning. I rehearsed my explanation, my reassurance—foolishly.
As I crossed the garden, I saw Marcello standing just outside, his back to me. He was talking to someone—a woman. She clung to his arm, fingers grazing his bicep like she was testing the texture.
Her other hand twirled her hair, her stance dripping with seduction.
Too close. Way too close for my comfort. My stomach twisted with dread.
And then I saw a glint of her face. Priya’s cousin, of course. That’s it. I had had enough drama for one day. She pulled him towards her and kissed him—quick, bold, shameless. Right on the mouth.
He pulled back immediately, muttering something in Sicilian, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes darted—guilt, fury, disbelief. But damage ignored is still damage done. I stood paralysed.
She looked at me and smirked—mocking, triumphant, like she’d just pissed on something sacred. He turned and that’s when I saw it. A faint lipstick stain at the edge of his lips. My heart sank and my mind went blank. Every emotion crashing in at once like a tsunami with no warning.
“So the first sign of difficulty, and you run to another woman?”
“Roxanne, no. You misunderstood—”
“Don’t insult me, Marcello. I saw it. I’m not blind. And I’m not stupid.”
My voice was cold to keep from breaking
“Why would I want anything to do with a woman who looks like a hooker?” His voice was ice.
“Excuse me!” she shrieked—high-pitched, grating. Like a cat getting run over by a truck.
His voice dropped, low and venomous.
“Stay out of this, puttana.”
She gasped, eyes wide. I didn’t flinch. Her shock was nothing compared to the implosion inside my chest. She deserved worse. But the damage was done.
I turned and walked to my room fast, before he could see the tears spilling down my cheeks. Before he saw how much he still mattered.
Behind me, she giggled.
“Relax, it was just a kiss. No need to be so uptight.”
But I didn’t turn back. I didn’t care. I’d seen enough. Enough to know he could break me again.