Chapter Nineteen

I wake long before the sun, fully clothed and wrapped in an inferno. Tobias sleeps silently next to me, his arms wrapped around me protectively, his chin burrowed into my neck. I slept through the night, buzzed on wine, in the safety of his arms since we'd wordlessly returned to the house. He didn't undress me. Instead, he turned off the light and pulled me into him.

And it's in this same position that I manage to untangle us without waking him before I take a long shower, putting on my favorite stark white sundress that looks more like something from the Edwardian era. Layers of silky white material tickle my calves while the bodice hugs my curves; the inch-thick straps lay loosely off my shoulders. I grab my favorite hardback and head toward the garden, nabbing a thin blanket to ward off the morning chill. Nestled in the queen lounger beneath a trellis covered in wisteria, I watch the show, the sun rising on a different world I'm now a citizen of, my thoughts drifting to the man who lays comatose in my bed.

Under the haze of a new day's sun, I lose myself and spend hours reading while soaking in the world around me.

Fresh blooms warm a few feet away, scenting the air as I flip the pages of The Thorn Birds . It's my favorite book, or at least it was when I was younger. It was the first hit to my addict's heart, and therefore the strongest. I stole it from the library the last summer I spent with my father and never returned it. It's the story of Ralph, a priest, and his Meggie, a little girl who was groomed by him and who grew up to fall in love with him. But their love was impossible. When she was young, he told her of a bird who leaves the nest searching for the sharpest thorn to impale itself on so it could sing the sweetest song as it dies, living solely for the purpose of finding that thorn so it could sing, just once, in its lifetime.

But his story to her at such a young age was a preemptive strike if not predictive, and her heart didn't listen. Meggie describes her love: her devotion to Ralph was like crying for the moon. Because it's impossible to capture, impossible to keep.

Meggie could never have Ralph in the way she wanted, and he could never give up his life's purpose for her. Therefore, Ralph was also Meggie's thorn, and she spent her life searching for the time to impale herself upon him just for the chance to sing. And then it happens, they have that sinful and secular moment where the world stops, time ceases, and love wins.

I always stop reading when they're together, because I know the ending, and I'm happiest in the midst of their song. I savor it.

Partway through the novel, I stand and walk on the soft green carpet beneath my feet, admiring nature's handiwork. Endless rows of rose bushes line the center of the garden, and I stop every few steps to run my fingers along the delicate petals and breathe them in. It's like a dream—the breeze, the smells, the pink haze of early morning—and I'm fully intoxicated. For a moment, I pity Roman. I'm positive he's never spent a minute out here simply enjoying his life. He could, at any time, make a decision to enjoy the fruits of his labor, to appreciate the palace he haunts, but he lives his life too engrossed in harsh reality. Numbers and power rule him. And I'm convinced his is a miserable existence.

I don't want that for myself. Not ever.

And one day, I'll need to forgive him. I'll have to forgive him, for myself. But this morning, the pain is starting to gnaw at me, and I can still feel the humiliation, the arrow precision sting of his rejection—the unexpected balm to my pierced heart sleeping in the bedroom above me.

The last twenty-four hours with Tobias have been surreal, and I'm way too terrified to trust a single memory. I run a finger over my lips thinking of the way he kissed me, held me, like I was precious, like my every thought mattered. Palming my face, I try to push those thoughts away, and I can't help but recall our conversation.

"Dream a thousand dreams."

In the last year, I've learned a different way to live, and I don't think I've ever embraced it the way I can now.

With my epiphany yesterday, I know my future consists of big moves and big decisions. I want the experience of it all. Otherwise, what's the point?

A peace washes over me as I remember the future I'd mapped for myself in that boardroom. A decision to live in the now, even knowing what I know. Risk and reward. No regrets. I've decided on my part to play.

I'm strolling along the hedges admiring the walls of honeysuckle draping them when I sense him. I look up to find him standing in the corner of the courtyard, staring at me.

"Hi."

He stands silent. His undershirt wrinkled, the material clinging to him like a second skin stretching over his chest, outlining his powerful frame when he stretches. Black boxers accentuate his insanely cut, muscular thighs. He's completely disheveled. A far cry from the stylish terrorist I've come to expect darkening my door. And as messy as he looks, he's more agonizing to gaze upon. We'd stolen a moment last night. A moment to be selfish, to give in to what we both wanted, and it wasn't purely physical. It was a long drink for two thirsty people. And we'd savored every drop, but we're skirting disaster now. Still, I can feel it, the gravity, the ache, the need building for him, and he's only feet away.

I run my hands along more of the delicate blooms. "It's beautiful out here, isn't it?"

More silence, and it's unbearable. My heart gallops as the air around me stills. Tension coiling, I can feel his gaze on me, my neck pebbling with the weight of it. I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes. Because if I do, he'll know.

"Hard to believe such a bad guy owns such an extraordinary place." I can hear the sadness in my voice. I was honest with Tobias that night he questioned me. In my time here, I've experienced a slow snap. From the time my dad confessed he couldn't love me to the time we spent yesterday in his boardroom, it's felt like one drawn-out and agonizing blow. Though it's been hard to admit it, I came here with a hope that's now obliterated. My father and I are beyond repair.

Roman's rejection has made me a very sad and lonely little girl, and I'd been acting like one, dragging my battered heart around and begging someone, anyone, to tell me it is worth something.

"You were right, you know," I say, running my fingers over the blossoming wall of honeysuckle again. "I've been a sad, lonely little girl for a long time." I smile, though my eyes are glistening. "I couldn't understand why he couldn't, didn't want , to love me. I understand that's just a blood tie now, and I'm a responsibility. Nothing more. But I won't apologize for growing up thinking I deserved his love or for growing up period, and the choices I've made doing it. In believing in it. Because...how can love be a mistake?" A warm tear runs down my face as I finally look up at him. "Even if it's not enough, if it's more trouble than it's worth, if it does me more harm than good, even if everyone I give myself to denies me, I refuse to believe it's a mistake."

He stalks toward me, his eyes unwavering as I swallow, bracing myself for impact. "Sometimes...s-sometimes I wonder if I'll ever grow up enough to know the difference between what I romanticize and what's real."

He reaches me, and I keep my eyes averted as another fast tear forms and falls.

"How do you do it, Tobias? How do you keep your heart out of it?"

He lifts my hand to cover his chest, and I lift my eyes to his. It's in his gaze I see the same vulnerability and fear that shone in them the night he realized he'd damned us both.

"Please don't do this to me," I beg, knowing if this is another game, another mindfuck, I will not survive it.

He bends so we're eye-level, as his heart pounds against my palm.

"There's something you need to know." He swallows, his frame rattling as he covers my hand on his chest, the beat beneath quickening, smashing against my palm as if trying to break free.

"Your heart is not your weakness, Cecelia. It's mine ."

Slowly, so slowly, he bends and presses his full lips to mine. And with this one act, the rest of my self-preservation ceases to exist.

Because of him, because of his kiss. A kiss just as raw, just as honest as it was last night, but far more meaningful than any other we've shared. I grip his wrists when he palms my face, tilting my head before he dives deeper. The burn starts behind my eyes as my innermost fear is realized, and I dive headfirst, living fully in the seconds and minutes that replace everything I thought I knew about love.

He explores my mouth with gentle licks, his tongue coaxing mine, drawing out a whimper.

My heart pounds in distinct beats as I rip myself away.

"Please—" he cuts off my plea with another searing kiss and another, and then another until my fears quiet.

He pulls my chin with his thumb, parting my mouth further, opening to me and licks in discovery as I wrap what I can of myself around him.

Slick with need, I squeeze my thighs together as he teases me, drawing me further into him. He does this over and over, dizzying me to the point of insanity. At his mercy, I wrap around him as he kisses me, and kisses me, his tongue sweeping me into this moment with him, erasing every line we've drawn. When he pulls back and gazes down at me with hooded eyes, it's not lust that has me gasping.

It's the truth he lets me see. No amount of lies or contradictory actions on his part can ever take this away. He dips again and takes my mouth, a confession on his tongue, and I meet him, kissing him back, telling my own.

And it's then I allow myself to fall, further and further into the biggest secret of my life. A secret I've known longer than I will ever admit.

I'm falling in love with my enemy.

So be it.

Our tongues tangle in the most erotic and passionate of dances. Eyes closed, I savor the affection and clutch him to me, drinking, consuming as he feeds my starving heart. He answers every question I've ever had, with each sure stroke of his tongue, and brush of his fingertips.

I don't need words or promises. His kiss makes them irrelevant.

Hunger rumbles low, and with every thorough brush of his tongue I become more ravenous to expose everything we've hidden beneath our thin veil of hate.

He bends, lifting the hem of my sundress, and I extend my arms above my head and keep them raised as he pulls the material off, leaving me completely naked in the middle of the sun-soaked garden.

His eyes explore me from head to foot; he runs fingers along my skin, his palms covering me in his reverent touch, an apology for all the violent touches before. A tear drips from my chin and he whisks it away with his tongue before sweeping me into his arms and setting me on the lounger. Wordlessly, he pulls off his shirt and boxers between kisses. Shaded by a canopy of wisteria, I drink him in, as we exchange one kiss for another, the next more intoxicating than the one before it. He pulls away, gazing down at me, his palms caressing the top of my head with a gentle sweep.

"Why, why couldn't you just leave me alone?" I rasp out, utterly helpless to the emotion he's stirring within me.

"C'était trop demander." It was too much to ask.

He stares down at me, hands roaming over every inch of flesh within his reach, his eyes and lips worshiping, his heart pounding against mine, demanding acknowledgment. The kiss turns fevered as our mouths call a truce and begin to make promises we can never speak because, if we do, we will no longer be enemies.

But in glimpses of his fiery depths, all of it's gone: his contempt, his judgment, his anger, his resentment, all of it replaced with tenderness, longing, and blatant need. He slides his warm hand down my stomach before pressing thick fingers inside me. Every brush of his lips causes eruptions throughout my chest and all over my body.

Our visual connection remains unbroken as he moves to hover above me. Cradling him between my legs, I cup his jaw. Once he's readied me, he lines us up and, without hesitation, pushes his length into me, claiming me fully. Flattening his chest to mine, he drives in further, and I lose every ounce of my breath. His cock is rooted so deep, I'll never be able to forget the way he feels.

He grinds into me, burrowing further, embedding himself as he peers down at me, eyes beseeching, begging me not to look away, to accept him, to accept us , and our fate. He pushes my knees apart further before he slowly, so slowly, begins to move.

My world shifts as he gently rolls his hips, his gaze never wavering as I take all of him in, while he brands my body; a declaration, a possession.

It's belonging I feel with every slow thrust, every kiss, every look, every breath that passes between us.

We let ourselves go, our mouths molding with the perfect exchange, moaning and gasping at the way I fit him, and the way he fills me so completely. His lovemaking is ecstasy in the purest form. I shudder in his arms, in the completion.

Pulling him tighter to me, I cry out as he surges into me, his mouth covering the whole of my breast, his teeth grazing my nipple as he rears back and drives in again, hitting the end of me over and over, purposefully staking his claim.

"Je ne peux pas aller assez loin." I can't get deep enough.

With every slow thrust of his tongue, every possessive push of his hips, he damns us, the confession in his eyes narrating our story, our ill-fated fortune as star-crossed fools, sharing a merciless love neither of us can ever deny, but can never keep.

On the brink, I break our kiss, look him in the eyes and call out his name as the rush overtakes me. It's the sound of his name coming from my lips that sends him over, and I feel him pulsate just before he buries himself and pours into me.

Bodies slick, he burrows deeper, a thin veil of sweat covering him as he trembles in my hold, emotion shining in his eyes, twisting his features. He's completely exposed and lets me see him in his most vulnerable state, and I've never seen anything so perfect.

He presses his forehead to mine, as we share several collective breaths. I stroke his back with my fingers as some of the high disappears from his eyes, and the truth sets in. He dips to kiss me, and I feel him start to retreat as my heart begins to sink with the weight of our secret.

When he pulls away, the loss rips me apart as I hold in a sob, and he turns from me to sit on the edge of the lounger, his shoulders sagging forward, stretching the wings along his muscular back.

The sight of the bond he made with his brothers draws tight. It's there, the answer, the reason for our beginning and the reason for our end—a bond made from love. A timeless bond a different love could never break. A bond that exists with his brothers and his reason for being.

He can never choose me.

He will never choose me.

I can never ask him to.

"We can never be," he says softly from where he sits.

"I know." I lift to sit as he slowly stands and picks up my dress, handing it to me. Gathering his boxers, he glances over his shoulder, his eyes filled to the brim with guilt. "I can't make you any promises."

"I haven't asked for any."

"This ends now. It has to, Cecelia. It has to."

"I know."

It's anger that takes hold as he jerks on his briefs. I brace myself for the pain of his absence, for more heartache as he retrieves his shirt from the ground. I've had my heart broken before. I'm all too familiar with the feeling, but there's a raging now in my chest with a strength I never imagined possible.

Briefly, he stops dressing, staring at me with the undershirt around his neck before pushing his arms through. Tortured eyes meet mine, and I see his defiance, not against me, but against the stars lining up against us.

Utter fucking disaster.

"I don't want to fucking leave. I don't want to argue. I don't want to hate myself. I don't want to blame you. I'm tired of being angry at them, but damn them and...damn you, Cecelia, you were never supposed to know them, you were never"—his face twists with fury as my heart seizes—"you were..." He jerks me to stand, pulling me against him, anger rolling off his frame, anguish in his eyes.

"Yours. I was always supposed to be yours," I say as he nods and crushes me with his kiss.