A Scandal in the Headlines(63)

Meaning, it took her a confused moment to understand, that he had signed the land over to her before their wedding.

“I don’t …” she whispered.

“In case there is any lingering confusion,” he said in that deadly way of his, “I never wanted the goddamn land. I wanted you.”

Which meant he really was the man she’d wanted him to be—but Elena couldn’t process that. There was nothing but a roar of thunder inside her, loud and overwhelming.

He didn’t love her, she reminded herself then, cutting through all the noise. No matter what kind of man he was.

The envelope shook in her hand. “I don’t know what to say.”

“What a surprise.” His voice was cool, but his eyes burned hot, and she burned with them. “And here I thought your silent defection was so eloquent.”

He reached out for her other hand, taking it in his, and Elena watched in stunned silence—as if it was not her hand at all, as if it was connected to someone else—as he reached into a different pocket and slid the rings she’d left in the penthouse back onto her finger.

“I don’t want those,” she croaked out. His hand closed around hers then, and she felt that electric charge sizzle all the way up her arm.

“They’re yours,” he bit out, his dark eyes flashing. “Just like the clothes you left behind. If you don’t want them, fine. Sell them. Burn them in your back garden. But I won’t take them back.”

She yanked her hand away, as if her palm was on fire. It felt like it was. It felt like she was.

But Alessandro was a dream and it was time to wake up. She had to stop prostrating herself to impossibilities. She had to stop dreaming about what she thought she ought to have, and concentrate instead on what she did have. And that wasn’t him.

“I appreciate this more than I can say,” she said in a low voice, stepping back from him and tucking the envelope in the pocket of her jacket.

“All I asked was that you have a little faith,” he gritted out. “Was that really so hard, Elena? Did it warrant you running away from me mere hours after our wedding?”

“We have sex,” she said evenly, because it was time to accept reality. “That’s all it is, Alessandro. That’s all it ever was.”

“You’re still such a liar,” he said in a kind of wonder.

“It’s not real,” she continued, determined to make him see reason. “It’s chemical. It fades.”

“We do not just have sex,” he said, moving toward her then. “What we have, Elena, is extraordinary. It was there from the moment we met.”

He reached over and slid his palm along her jaw, her cheek, anchoring his fingers in her hair. That same fire roared in her, that easily. That same old connection that had caused all this trouble. And he knew it. His mouth curved.

“You can’t—” she began, but he only pressed a finger over her lips and she subsided, her heart pounding.

“And if you want something real,” he said in a low, stirring voice that did nothing to conceal his temper and seemed to echo in her bones, her veins, her core, making something like shame twist in her, low and deep, “then you’re going to have to treat me like I’m real, too. Not something you have to bend and contort to get around. Just a man, Elena. Nothing more or less than that.”

That thudded into her, hard. She wrenched herself back, away from his touch. She fought for breath.

“You’re a man, yes,” she threw at him. “I know that. But your only form of communication is in bed—”

“Do not,” he interrupted her furiously, “do not claim I can’t communicate when your version of a discussion involves sneaking off for a plane ride and two hours’ drive.”

“You don’t understand!” She hardly knew what she was saying. She was panicked. Cornered. “I loved you so much I was willing to do anything. I wrecked my engagement. I betrayed my family. I lost myself—anything to have you. But that’s not love, Alessandro.” She shook her head wildly. Desperately. “It’s an addiction. It’s just sex.”

“Thank you,” he said grimly, “for using the past tense. Keep sticking your knife in, Elena. Twist it, why don’t you.”

But she couldn’t stop. It was as if something else had taken control of her.

“We never should have met,” she told him. “We were never meant to meet. It was a complete disaster at first sight.”