The words hit like ice down my spine. So he knew. Of course he did. In this world, nothing stayed hidden forever. No wonder Rocco had insisted our affair remain buried for years.
I lowered my eyes, swallowing the sharp sting blooming in my chest. “Don’t involve him,” I muttered. “We’re… not close anymore.”
Just then, the faint click of a lock turning echoed through the room. I ended the call quickly, my pulse spiking as I straightened.
When I looked up, Rocco stood in the doorway.
His smile was effortless, devastating. His eyes shone with a warmth that tightened my chest—but I knew better now. That look wasn’t meant for me. It never truly had been.
“Not close to who?” he asked lightly, curiosity threading his tone.
“To you,” I replied, blunt despite the tremor in my voice.
His brow arched. Before I could step away, he crossed the space between us and pulled me into his arms. Amusement curved his lips as he leaned in, his breath brushing my ear.
“Is that so?” he murmured, teasing and low. “Then explain something to me, sweetheart. How exactly are we not close? After everything we’ve shared?”
Once, that closeness had made my heart soar. Now it sent unease racing through my veins. I shifted in his grip—and then I saw it. A faint smear of lipstick staining his collar.
The burns around my wrist pulsed painfully, each throb echoing the betrayal I hadn’t escaped. Tears rose before I could stop them, hot and traitorous.
“Sofia… what’s wrong?” His voice changed instantly, confidence giving way to alarm. He rolled up my sleeve, revealing the angry marks beneath.
His face darkened. “When did this happen? Who did this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
The concern in his eyes looked real. And somehow, that hurt more than indifference ever could. Had he truly erased the banquet from his memory so easily?
I said nothing.
I stood there, torn between ripping away the illusion he clung to—or letting him continue believing everything between us was still untouched, still normal, still his to keep.
“Enough,” he said quietly, firm but gentle. “Stop crying. I’ll deal with it.”
Rocco brushed my hair back with practiced ease, his thumb sweeping away the tears that kept slipping down my face. He pressed a brief kiss against my temple before straightening and heading off to grab a cold compress, muttering under his breath like this was all routine.