I hated how he was being unnecessarily an to . I ca clean already. I could have easily gone behind his back and caused enough damage. In fact, I quite literally risked my brother’s life by telling him the truth yet he was still sulking?
I scoffed angry at him and even angrier at myself because of how he affected .
The worst part? I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he kissed the other night. Rough, punishing, like he wanted to break apart just to remind he could. My lips still tingled from it, and my body still betrayed every ti he ca too close.
I pressed my palm against my stomach, trying to calm the dull ache that had nothing to do with my cramps and everything to do with Jace Romano. The man drove insane.
Only he could do that.
I stord into the balcony off my room, the night breeze whipping against my skin. L.A. glittered in the distance, city lights mocking with their careless beauty. People out there were probably living normal lives. They were falling in love, eating takeout, going to sleep in peace. anwhile, I was trapped in a war I hadn’t asked for with a man I couldn’t stop wanting no matter how much I hated him. This push and pull was tiring.
The door creaked, and I knew it was him before he spoke. His presence was that heavy.
"You’re making it too obvious," Jace said from behind , his tone flat, clipped, like every word was dragged out against his will.
I didn’t turn. "Obvious about what?"
"That you’re angry. That you’re sulking."
I laughed bitterly. "Funny, I thought you were the one sulking."
Silence stretched between us. I felt him move closer, but he stopped just far enough to remind he was holding back. Always holding back. My chest ached slightly at the thought of it. I wanted him to let go of this.
"I don’t sulk," he muttered.
"Sure," I said dryly, folding my arms. "You just brood, scowl, and act like I don’t exist when I try to talk to you. Totally not sulking."
That earned a sharp exhale, almost a laugh, but not quite. I glanced over my shoulder and caught the faintest twitch at his jaw.
"I trusted you, Mira," he said finally, voice low and edged with sothing raw. "And when I think of how close Massimo ca to using you against ..." He trailed off, eyes dark and stormy when they caught mine. "I want to strangle him. But then I want to strangle you too."
To say I was stunned by what he said was an understatent but then it was Jace. He was unpredictable.
"Charming," I shot back, even though my chest tightened. "I told you the truth. I risked everything by telling you. If I wanted to betray you, I wouldn’t have said a word."
He stepped closer now, close enough that his cologne drifted around , close enough that my body betrayed with a shiver.
"And yet you kept things from ," he rasped. "You thought you could handle it on your own. That’s not trust, Mira. That’s you playing God with both our lives. That’s too dangerous for you and you know it."
I swallowed hard, the fight in battling with the sting of his words. "And what would you have done if I told you the second Massimo threatened ? Hmm? You would’ve killed half of New York that night and painted a target on Roberto’s back anyway. Don’t act like you’re the reasonable one here, Jace."
My brother was my only family left and whether he liked it or not, it was my duty to protect him even though I wasn’t doing a very good job at it.
His eyes burned into , and for a second, I thought he’d explode. But instead, his hand shot out, cupping my jaw roughly, tilting my face up to his.
"You drive fucking insane," he growled.
"Good," I whispered, breathless despite myself. "Now you know how it feels."
The air snapped tight around us, his lips hovering a fraction from mine. My heart pounded in betrayal of my anger, my body leaning into his even though my mind scread at to pull away.
But Jace didn’t kiss . Not this ti.
Instead, he let go suddenly, stepping back with that stone expression that shredded worse than any cruel words.
"Get so rest," he said, his tone flat again. "We have a long week ahead."
And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving standing on the balcony, heart racing, knees weak, hating him for how badly I wanted him.
I gripped the railing, blinking back tears. I told myself I was crying from anger, from frustration, from everything else but the truth.
The truth was, no matter how much I hated him, no matter how much he pushed away, I still loved him. And that was the cruelest punishnt of all.
I wiped at my face furiously, refusing to let a single tear fall, but the more I fought it, the hotter my eyes burned.
Damn him. Damn Jace Romano for knowing exactly how to undo with nothing more than a look, a touch, a cruel word that cut sharper than a blade.
I stumbled back inside, slamming the balcony door behind . My reflection in the glass stopped cold. I saw flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes rimd red. I looked like a woman coming undone, and I hated it.
I hated him for making this way.
I hated myself more for letting him.
The bed felt like ice when I crawled into it. I turned from side to side, tugged the sheets higher, pressed a pillow over my head, but nothing worked. Sleep stayed out of reach, held hostage by the mory of his voice.
You drive fucking insane.
Those words replayed again and again, cutting open, stitching back together and then cutting open all over again. It was too much.
I pressed a hand to my stomach. There was that hollow ache that throbbed every ti his na crossed my mind. I told myself it was anger. That I loathed him, that I despised every inch of his arrogant, cold-blooded and unforgiving self.
But even as I whispered the lie into the dark, my chest ached with the truth.
I loved him.
And that was the wound I didn’t know how to stop bleeding.
When dawn finally broke, it wasn’t relief that washed over —it was dread. Because the war between us wasn’t anywhere near over.
Not yet.
~
The sunlight was cruel when it spilled across my face. I groaned, dragging the sheet over my head as if that could shield from reality.
For one blissful second, I forgot where I was. Then I rolled over, reaching instinctively toward the other side of the bed.
Empty. Cold.
My eyes snapped open. Jace wasn’t there.
We had not shared a bed for days now. Why on earth was I imagining him being next to .
I sat up too quickly, hair tumbling into my face as I scanned the room like an idiot, as if he might suddenly step out of the shadows.
I washed my face and stepped out of the room to get breakfast. I thought I would catch a glimpse of him.
But no. The space was silent, suffocating in its stillness.
He’d left without a word.
The bastard.
I ate in silence, fighting the urge to ask the helps where he had gone.
I fought the urge to head into his room. I knew he wasn’t there but I still wanted to go in there.
But I went to my room instead.
My chest squeezed tight, fury tangled with sothing softer that I refused to na.
I flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Hours passed and my mind started wandering.
Should I call him? Should I even care? The battle in my head was ridiculous. Half of scread don’t give him the satisfaction, the other half whispered what if sothing happened?
Finally, with a growl of frustration, I snatched my phone off the nightstand and dialed his number.
No answer.
I glared at the screen like it had personally offended , my pulse hamring against my ears. Then, without thinking, the words slipped out in a hiss:
"Stronzo arrogante... figlio di puttana." I let out so colorful words in Italian.
My voice shook with rage and sothing I refused to call hurt. I tossed the phone onto the bed with more force than necessary, shoving both hands through my hair.
Of course he wouldn’t pick up. That was Jace Romano’s specialty. All he did was leave burning, dangling, begging for scraps while he held all the damn power.
But two could play at that ga.
Or so I told myself, even as my chest ached in a way I couldn’t shake.
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