Chapter 222

He leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath. “I have to.”

She swallowed hard, voice a whisper. “You don’t want to.”

“That’s not the point.”

His words fell like a blade.

She opened her mouth again, but no sound came out. Her head was spinning. Her heart was breaking and burning all at once.

“I trusted you,” he said. “I touched you. I tasted you. And all the while, you were lying.”

“I didn’t mean to lie,” she said. “I just didn't want it to end before it started.”

“It never should’ve started.”

Ryan stepped back, pacing once down the hall like he needed to put distance between them or he’d explode. He raked a hand through his hair, then turned back, his tone colder than ice.

“If your father ever finds out…”

“He won’t.”

“Stay the hell away from me.”

Then he turned and walked away, leaving her against the wall, trembling.

The dining room was too bright, the crystal chandelier casting sharp reflections across the polished mahogany table. Elena sat across from Ryan, barely eating. He didn’t look at her once. Enric talked business, laughed, and poured wine. Oblivious.

Ryan was the picture of composure. Calm. Cool. Completely detached.

But beneath the table, Elena’s hands shook.

“Elena’s graduating next year,” Enric said, pouring Ryan another glass of wine. “Top of her class.”

Ryan’s lips quirked. “Is she?”

Elena’s nails dug into her palm.

“Straight A’s,” Enric continued, oblivious. “Though lately, she’s been distracted.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine. “Distracted by what?”

Her father sighed. “Boys, probably.”

Elena choked on her water.

Ryan’s grip tightened around his glass. “Boys.”

Enric chuckled. “You remember being that age, Ryan. Hormones. Drama.”

Ryan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I remember.”

The air between them crackled with tension.

Elena left the moment dessert was over, closed her door and pressed her back to it, sliding to the floor. She thought the worst part would be the guilt.

But it wasn’t. The worst part was the way he looked at her now. Like she was a stranger. Like she was something dirty.

She remembered the way his hands had felt on her skin, the way he’d looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. And then she remembered the disgust in his voice. That hurt more than anything else.

She wanted to scream, to explain, to rewind time.

But she couldn’t. She’d lit the match. Now she had to watch it burn.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Ryan drove straight to Club Noire from Carter’s. He needed air. Distance. Noise. Anything to drown out the echo of her voice in his head.

Seventeen!

Fuck!

He kept gulping whiskey one after another, but it didn’t help. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was her. The way she’d looked in that dress. The way she’d looked at him.

He’d been played. Lied to. But worse? He’d felt something for her.

Jade found him in his private lounge an hour later.

“You look like hell,” he said, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Rough meeting with Carter?”

He laughed bitterly. “You have no idea.”

Jade watched him closely. “You okay?”

“No.”

He waited. Then quietly asked, “Is this about that girl?”

Ryan didn’t answer.

Jade tilted his head. “You’re thinking about her.”

“She lied to me,” he muttered. “She said she was twenty-seven. But she’s seventeen. Seventeen, Jade.”

Jade went still. “Oh… shit!”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“What are you going to do?”

He rubbed his face. “What I have to. Walk away. Forget it happened.”

Jade looked at him, voice quiet. “You don’t want to forget.”

He didn’t answer. Because forgetting wasn’t an option, not when her scent still clung to his sheets, not when her voice haunted every corner of his head.

But wanting her? It was dangerous. It was illegal. It was everything he couldn’t afford.

The next morning, he was at the gym before dawn, pushing himself until his muscles screamed, trying to exorcise her from his system.

It didn’t work.

Jade called around noon. “You missed the finance review.”

“I’m not in the mood,” he snapped.

Jade paused. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he said simply.

“I just need some time,” he muttered.

Jade was silent, then said, “Okay. But don’t do anything stupid.”

Too late. Way too late, he thought.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Elena couldn’t sleep. She paced around her room as if she could just forget the way his hands had felt on her skin. That’s when her phone buzzed with a text from Avonlea.

Avonlea: You alive?

She typed back numbly.

ELENA: Barely.

Avonlea: What happened??

Elena hesitated, then sighed.

ELENA: I fucked up.

Before Avonlea could respond, another text came through an unknown number.

UNKNOWN: You forgot something.

Her breath caught.

A photo followed, a single black lace panty, draped over the edge of a nightstand.

Hers. Her face burned.

UNKNOWN: Pick it up tomorrow. My penthouse. No excuses.

Her fingers trembled as she typed.

ELENA: I can’t see you again.

Ryan smirked.

RYAN: You will.