Chapter 10

ON THE MORNING OF his departure, Leandro knew they had to talk. He'd known it for days, but had been waiting for something. Clarity? A sign from Skye that she wanted to change the terms of their deal? Sanity to return to him, to remind him of all the reasons he had to walk away as planned?

Only he didn't.

Not if she didn't want him to.

But Skye seemed completely unaffected by the fact his bags were packed, and Alec was waiting in the lobby.

Harper was the only one who showed emotion. "Leo stay," she pouted over her toast.

He'd looked to Skye for a reaction, but she'd only smiled indulgently, as though the dear little girl didn't possibly understand the ways of the adult world. Well, maybe that made two of them.

Would the old Leandro have just laid his cards on the table and suggested he remain another week? Or that they accompany him to Italy for a holiday? Would he have just kissed Skye until she agreed that they shouldn't walk away from this yet?

Probably.

That Leandro had been secure in his place in the world, had known only the love his parents, rather than what he felt now—rejection from his biological parents, and betrayal from his adoptive. Not to mention the strange distance from his siblings who were not, as it turned out, related to him at all.

"Do you have a moment?" His voice sounded calm, if slightly raw.

Skye eyed him warily but a moment later she smiled and nodded. No big deal. Her veneer was excellent, but surely she wasn't as calm about all this as she seemed?

And why did that bother him?

"Listen," he said, when they were alone on the terrace. New York was donning its winter coat, the colours of fall giving way to spindly branches and a bleak sky. He focused on Skye. "I want you and Harper to stay here until things are settled with your ex."

She shook her head, the beginning of a demurral, and his sense of frustration intensified. "Where else are you going to go, Skye?"

"Home," she said, lifting one shoulder.

He ground his teeth. "No."

Skye's jaw tilted in that defiant way she had, so he immediately knew he'd come off too commanding. "It's your choice," he muttered. "But that would be the wrong choice."

She laughed, a soft, short sound. "I can't stay here. Not without you."

A muscle jerked in his jaw. Was she asking him to stay? Damn it, he hated this version of himself. He hated what this news had done to him. Confidence had never been in short supply for Leandro but he now felt totally disconnected from who he used to be. Or was it that rejection from Skye was something he intrinsically wanted to shield himself from experiencing?

"I'll be fine," she said, her words so like her. She was such a fighter. And if she wanted him to stay, she'd be fighting for that too. "I've dealt with him for years."

"You've never pushed back against him before."

"I'll be fine," she repeated.

Their eyes were locked in a battle of the wills. None of this felt right. None of this was what he wanted. But what was the alternative? What did he want? What could he offer her, when his own life was in such complete tatters?

"You should think of this place as your own."

"But it's not." Her smile was wistful. "This has been an amazing week, but I always knew it was make-believe. It's time for both of us to get back to reality, Leandro." She stepped closer and squeezed his hand. "I'll always be grateful to you." Her eyes skimmed his face. "I'll always remember you."

Skye didn't knowhow she managed to keep it all together. Somehow, she kept a smile pinned on her face as they said goodbye, wondering at the strangely surreal experience this had been. What would Harper think? Would she remember him? Or would she simply slip back into her normal life, without him in it? Would she have any idea how hard this goodbye was for mommy? Would she understand why mommy was crying at night?

I'll always remember you.

He'd thought it a strange thing to say, but when he landed in Italy and reached for an item from his suitcase, his fingers brushed against something small and velvet, and he realized she'd sent the necklace home with him.

He shouldn't have been surprised. Skye didn't want that kind of thing from him. She'd been uncomfortable with all of it. The only thing he'd been able to give her in the end was the team of lawyers who would ultimately free her from Jay's control. It wasn't nothing, but it didn't feel like enough.

He held the necklace in his palm, wrapping it into a fist and closing his eyes on a wave of longing. How had he come to need her so badly, in the course of one week? One week, and she'd become a part of his bloodstream.

But he would conquer that need, because he had to. Skye was a part of his past, and that was now reality. He wouldn't think of her again. Not if he could help it, anyway.

Two weeksafter Leandro's departure, and Skye was going through the motions. She'd slipped back into how things had been before. Working, catching the subway home despite Leandro's insistence that she should continue to have Alec take her for safety. Independence was practically a religion for Skye; she couldn't surrender it. And she wouldn't let Leandro keep paying for things for her. Except the lawyers, because she really did need that, and he'd been so insistent.

They were miracle workers. In the past two weeks, they'd filed custody motions, put together statements about the security cameras, a whole history of Skye's custodial time with Harper, her financial support of the girl, which apparently signposted Jay's disinterest in parenting, given that he could have been making payments to contribute and had chosen not to. All in all, she finally felt as though the tide was turning, and it was turning her way.

When Susanna offered extra shifts, Skye jumped at the chance. She needed to be busy. She was working herself into the ground because it was the only way she could ensure a dreamless sleep. If she dreamt, she dreamt of Leandro, and she always woke flustered and flooded with desperate, aching need. Not just for him physically, but for all of him. For the life they'd shared, all too briefly.

"I know you're about to punch out, but would you mind running one last tray?"

Skye looked at her boss and nodded. "It's fine. I've got ten minutes on my shift."

Susanna pulled a face. "You must be exhausted." She handed a tray to Skye—champagne, two flutes, and a bowl of strawberries. Perhaps the boy band duo was back? "I'd take it myself but I have something to sort out in the front office."

"It's fine," Skye demurred. "No problem." And it wasn't. Harper would be asleep, Skye relished the chance to stay busy.

She took the service elevator to the relevant level, stepped out and made her way to the door before pressing the doorbell. "Room service."

Silence, and then, the sound of the lock clicking. She pasted a smile on her face, curious—as always—to see who was on the other side.

And nowhere near expecting this.

"Leandro!" She almost dropped the tray. Perhaps she would have if he hadn't reached out to take it from her, perceiving her surprise. "I didn't know—I had no idea—," Too many questions, too much feeling. She couldn't contain it. Couldn't suppress it. But she had to. Only seeing him clarified everything. Everything she'd been fighting. Seeing him made her realise how much she'd missed him, all of him. How much she wanted him in her life. It terrified her, because it was impossible.

They both knew that, they'd known it all along. Besides, she couldn't take this risk. She couldn't give someone else her heart. Not after Jay. It was too risky.

But…

"What are you doing here?" She stayed on the other side of the door, just staring at him.

"You are almost finished your shift?" He prompted, lifting the tray a little.

Her eyes met his. It was as though an invisible string was pulling her forward. She concentrated on keeping her feet firmly planted where they were—in reality.

"Yes," she murmured, so low it was almost inaudible.

"Then join me," he said, but in a tone that was less question, more demand.

Her eyes flared when they met his. She wasn't someone to be bossed around, but he was asking her to do something she desperately wanted to do. Wouldn't saying no just be cutting off her nose to spite her face? Shouldn't she at least hear him out?

Who was she kidding? On no planet at no time was she going to turn down a chance to see him now. Not after two weeks without. Not after spending two weeks thinking they would never see one another again.

He placed the tray on the kitchen counter and then turned to face her. Their eyes met, and suddenly, nothing mattered.

Nothing.

There was nothing he could say that would change what she wanted—him. Right then and there. To hell with the future and how much she'd missed him and how much she wanted to know why he was here.

She simply walked right to him and lifted up onto the tips of her toes so she could place a kiss on his lips, and he returned it with the same desperate, passionate need. His hand curled around the back of her head, his fingers pushing through her hair, liberating it from the ponytail she wore, until it cascaded down her back, and then he was tangling his fingers in her hair and using it to tilt her head, so he could kiss her better, harder, with all the need that was a part of him, and of her.

He lifted her easily, carrying her through the suite to one of the palatial bedrooms, undressing her quickly then shucking his own clothes, groaning as their naked bodies brushed, before unfurling a condom over his length and driving into her on a powerful, guttural cry that was echoed by her own voice. They stayed just like that, frozen, locked together, eyes holding, lips parted, as the reality of this pulsed in the air around them.

"I've missed you," she said, then wished she hadn't, because it was too honest, too much. Surely, he'd felt the same? He was here, wasn't he?

"I can tell," he groaned, and then he was kissing her again, his body so powerful and commanding, her body so utterly under his spell. Every movement of his hips, every caress of his hand, had her senses going into overdrive.

If she had any doubts about exactly how much she'd missed him, they were dispelled by the relief she felt when he drove into her. It was like being put back together again; she was floating and ephemeral and glowing golden. It was fast and desperate, their explosion simultaneous, so they clung together, a tangle of limbs and perspiration and fast, frantic breathing.

Afterwards, it was like coming out of a strange dream. Her brain was foggy, she could hardly think straight, but she knew she had to.

She needed answers.

To understand.

"How—what are you doing here?"

"I'm here for work."

It felt a little like a blade had plunged between her ribs, serrating her organs. She blinked away. Work. And while he was here, he thought he'd squeeze in a quick roll in the hay, for old time's sake?

She pushed away from him quickly, sitting up on the edge of the bed in an attempt to catch her breath.

Beyond her, the city glittered but she barely noticed.

"But also, I wanted to see you."

It was something, but not enough. She felt as though she'd been living to see him again. She felt completely in his thrall, and it terrified her.

"I want to keep seeing you." The admission was raw, seemingly dragged from somewhere deep inside his soul.

She angled her face so she could see him, surprise in her features. "What does that mean?"

"I have business commitments here. The company we've acquired, I'm involved. I'm going to be here somewhat regularly. When I'm here, I want to see you."

She couldn't put her finger on why that bothered her. It wasn't offensive. But nor was it enough.

As a child, she'd been very, very slight, and whenever she'd gone on a seesaw with just about anyone her own age, she'd been launched high up into the sky. Her counter-balances tended to be children at least three years younger.

She felt that same sense of weightlessness now, of imbalance, only this time, she was heavy with it, and he wasn't. She was being pressed down into the ground by her need for him, and it was impossible to think he felt the same.

What he was suggesting was so casual, so lukewarm.

She wanted more.

But in lieu of more, could she take what he offered? She'd had two weeks without him, and now he was offering something. Could she think of it as weaning? Maybe if she could see him from time to time, she'd feel better. Maybe that would fix this overwhelming obsession she felt for him.

"I can't see you here."

"I've told you, I want you to stay at my apartment."

Her throat felt thick. She didn't speak.

"You and Harper. Move there until you're on your feet. You do not need to live with your parents, Skye."

She blinked quickly. The offer was too much, and nowhere near enough.

"Or I'll get you somewhere else, if you don't like it."

She spluttered, struggling to catch her breath.

And there it was—the problem with everything he was offering. It made her sound like his mistress. It somehow made their relationship transactional—and emotionally hollow. "I don't need that," she replied, with unintentional hauteur.

His brows drew together. "You don't think so?"

She stood, spine straight, gloriously naked and proud. "No." She spat the word. "If you want to be with me for me, then why can't I feel the same?"

His expression was guarded.

"Do you think I need any of that?"

"Like the necklace?" He asked, his tone dark. "Why did you give it back? It was a gift…"

"Because of this! Because I don't want to feel as though there's anything transactional in what we are. We might come from completely different backgrounds and exist in totally disparate worlds but I would like to think that regardless of that, we share something that's genuine and real." Careful, Skye. You're showing too much. "I don't know what we are, or what will happen in the future, but I do know this. If you keep buying me things and trying to move me into your expensive homes, I will never see you again. I don't want any of that stuff."

A muscle jerked in his jaw, his lips were grim. He stood completely still.

She kept going.

"I'll tell you what else," she murmured, crossing her arms now. "If you want to see me again, then stop treating me like just a body to fuck when you're in the mood."

His jaw dropped. "That's not how I think of you."

"Start talking to me," she ploughed on tears sparkling on her lashes now. "I have shared all of myself with you, while you've pushed me away at every opportunity. I'm sick of it."

He dragged a hand through his hair, eyes hooked to hers. "I'm offering more of what we had before. I liked it. I thought you did too. I can't rewire who I am for you though."

A lump formed in her throat. "Then it's not enough."

"I thought you said you just wanted me?"

"I do want you. All of you." Stop. Careful. Back away. But it was too late. She'd said it. She'd thrown down the gauntlet and had to know if he'd take it.

"I will give you as much of myself as I can," he said without moving. "You have to decide if that's enough for you."

It wasn't. It never would be. But she couldn't turn him away. The last two weeks had shown her how much she needed him in her life in some capacity.

"I need to think," she said, even though she knew what her answer would be.

"Will you stay with me a while longer?" He asked, and though the words were toneless, she heard something in them. A desperation she understood. He needed to look at her some more, just as she needed to look at him.

But need like this was the beginning of the end. Her independence had been too hard fought. She shook her head, trying to conceal the sadness from showing on her face.

"How long are you in the city for?"

"Two days."

She bit back a curse. Was that all? And she was really prepared to walk out of there and waste this precious night?

"Why are you staying here? You have a home now, remember?"

"I wanted to see you. I didn't know if you'd come there."

She glanced away. He was right. If he'd asked her over, she might have refused.

"I want to see you again. Are you free tomorrow?"

"I have Harper in the day."

"Bring her. Let's do something—we can take her to the zoo, then spend the night together."

Skye's stomach was in knots. "No," she shook her head. "No play acting with her." It was bad enough that her own heart was feeling vulnerable and exposed, she wouldn't risk Harper's.

"It's not play acting."

"But it's not real. I'm an adult woman who understands the way the world works. I can accept there's no real future for us, but she can't. I don't want her getting used to you. Staying with you before was a blip, something I could explain away easily enough. She'll get confused if you dip in and out of her life and then eventually just disappear. Like she's not already confused enough with everything going on with Jay."

"What's happening there?"

She waved a hand in the air. "He's spitting venom towards me, but your lawyers have him in a corner."

"What kind of venom?" Leandro demanded.

Skye squared her shoulders. "Nothing I can't handle." Then, conscious that she was still naked, she looked around for her clothes and began to pull them on.

"Skye," he said her name heavily, as though he'd been carrying it in his mouth for eons. "You don't have to handle it alone."

"Oh, yeah? Because you're here for me?" She responded archly. "You literally disappeared out of my life."

"As we had planned," he reminded her.

"I'm not saying you did anything wrong, but please don't act as though I can count on you. That's not what we are."

"I thought this was real and genuine," he repeated her own words back to her.

"Real and genuine passion," she acknowledged. "But let's not pretend it's more. I need to think." She tucked her shirt in then checked her reflection in the mirror.

"Come and see me tomorrow. Name the time and place. You know it is not over between us."

She closed her eyes. "That's what I'm afraid of." And it was. In her heart of hearts, she was terrified of how much she wanted him, terrified of how much he'd become a part of her despite her attempts to contain this.

She knew better than that, didn't she?

"I do not want you to fear me," he said with obvious disgust.

"Not you. This." Her eyes were huge. "I don't want to get caught up in something that will break me when it ends." There. She'd said it.

Her biggest fear.

And he smiled. A smile of relief and ease.

"It won't. Haven't I promised you that I will never hurt you?"

She didn't have the heart to tell him that he already had.