But I can’t help it.
Marco has called me a couple of times, but I’ve ignored them and texted him back instead. Telling him I’ve been busy. And I have been busy, putting off the inevitable.
But today is the day. I’m going to meet him at his apartment and tell him that it’s over.
I want to tell him that I’m in love with his brother, but Luciano insists that’s his job. I know he’s right, it’s just that I know this is going to hurt the both of them very much, and I wish I could take the pain for him.
But it’s his brother. His decision.
And I can’t begin to understand what Luciano must be going through right now, knowing that he’s choosing me over his family. I know that the thought makes me sick to my stomach, and yet I can’t imagine my life without him now. I had that life, I can’t go back to it.
My only hope is that maybe Marco will understand. We’ve only been together a week, really. We’ve kissed, but nothing beyond that. I didn’t let that happen, maybe because on a subconscious level I knew I’d end up with Luciano. Who knows. Maybe because it just didn’t feel right, and while it was wrong of me to go on some dates with Marco because it was easy and I was lonely, I knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere, just as I knew that nine years ago.
I’m not perfect. But I can at least try to be better.
“Do you really want to do this?” Luciano asks me, his thumb now grazing my lip. I briefly bite it. “I can tell Marco.”
“You can’t break up with him for me, okay? I’m doing it. I’ll let him down easy.”
He gives a caustic snort. “It will be short-lived until I show up.”
“Well, maybe I’ll sweeten the deal by giving him a plane ticket to Barcelona.”
Now Luciano is really laughing. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t laugh.”
“Well, you reap what you sow.” I shrug. “Marco is no angel.”
Luciano stills, some dark realization coming over his eyes. “No. He really isn’t.”
I feel like there’s more to the story there, but honestly, I don’t care. The past is the past.
“Well, I better go get this over with,” I tell him, sliding out of bed and stretching my arms high above my head.
Luciano’s eyes simmer as they rake over my naked body. Damn, this man knows how to fuck you with just a look. I better get some clothes on before I give in and crawl back into bed with him.
I slip on shorts and an off-the-shoulder blouse, then pick up my purse, glancing over at Luciano, who is still in bed.
“Are you going to be here when I come back?” I ask him.
“Where else would I go?” he asks with an easy shrug.
“I just want to make sure you’re home.”
“I’m going to need to give you the spare key. I’ll get it off of Marco when I talk to him.”
I wince. “You’re taking his girl and the spare key to your apartment.”
He doesn’t look too happy. “I’m doing what needs to be done,” he says gravely.
And he’s right. Because the alternative is that we don’t get to be together.
I give him a sweet smile. “I love you.”
“Amo-te,” he replies, in Portuguese.
I sigh happily. I’ve only recently realized now just how romantic Portuguese is. I try not to melt on my feet in a swoony puddle, and open the door, stepping out into the hallway.
Marco’s apartment isn’t too far from Luciano’s, so I have about a fifteen-minute walk in which to stew over all the guilt and baggage I’m dragging with me. I feel awful for what I’m about to do, and I feel pretty bad that I was unfaithful to him. But he doesn’t need to know any of that, it would only hurt him further.
Maybe he won’t even be hurt, I think to myself. Maybe he’ll just shrug and smile and that’s that.
Stranger things have happened.
When I get to Marco’s place, a flashy building with a concierge, I’m buzzed up to his apartment. My heart is beating wildly in my chest and I’m so nervous that I feel like I’m going to throw up.
I get to his door and I’m about to knock, but I hear voices on the other side, like he’s talking to someone. A male voice. It’s muffled and foreign to me, yet the voice feels insidious inside my head.
Stop.
Go.
Run.
I can’t explain the instinct to flee coursing through me, like there’s something awful and dangerous on the other side of the door.
But then the door is opening.
Marco is there, grinning at me.
“Ruby,” he says brightly.
I feel like I’m going fucking crazy because it’s literally just Marco, he looks happy to see me, he…
And then I see him.
Moving into frame behind Marco.
My breath hitches.
Oh my fucking god!
No.
No.
It’s him.
He’s here.
I’m staring right at Tomás Ribeiro.
In the flesh.
Why the hell is he here? Why didn’t Marco tell me?
But all my questions disintegrate.
“Hello Ruby,” Tomás says idly. “Do you remember me? We met once. At a horse show.”
Holy. Fuck.
The fear, the panic, it’s overwhelming.
What do I do?
“Come on in,” Marco says, reaching forward and grabbing my arm.
I want to pull back and run, but Marco is already frowning at the fear in my eyes as he pulls me into the apartment.
The door shuts behind me, sounding like a prison cell closing.
I’m trapped.
“Want a glass of wine?” Marco asks, giving me a funny look. “We’re drinking a white.”
“It’s very good,” Tomás says, his long fingers tapping at the glass in his hands, his voice reminding me of a snake. “Please,
