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“Do you trust in us?”

“Us?”

“Yes. Us.” My thumb glides over her lower lip, pressing down on it.

She gasps.

I lean in closer, my lips hovering over hers. “Still so responsive. What do you think Oliver will do if he sees us kissing?”

She tries to pull away, to put distance between us again, but I won’t let her.

Not this time.

My hand finds her waist, and I pull her into me, crushing my lips against hers before she can protest. For a heartbeat, she remains tense and resistant, but then the dam breaks. Her body yields to mine, and she’s kissing me back hungrily, desperately, like I’m the air she needs to breathe and she is mine. Kissing her is like oxygen filling my lungs, breathing life back into my soul.

Moments later, our lips break apart, foreheads pressed together as we gasp for breath. Her fingers twist into my shirt, holding me close.

“Don’t fight this,” I rasp. “Don’t fight us… Please. I beg you.”

“I can’t do this.” Her fingers let go of my shirt.

“This isn’t over. I won’t give up.”

“Elijah, stop. I love… I want to be with him! Accept that and leave us alone!”

I stare at her in disbelief, my grip on her loosening.

“You’re lying.”

Gemma holds up her hand.

I glare at the delicate golden band encircling her finger, my stomach twisting into knots. Is she wearing his fucking ring? I want to rip it off and hurl it across the room.

“What the fuck is that?”

Gemma shrinks back from me. “My wedding ring.”

“Take it off. Now.”

“I can’t…” Her voice wavers slightly. “Let me go. I don’t want this. I don’t want… you.”

Each word is like a knife to my heart, and I release my hold on her, taking a step back. She straightens her dress with shaking hands.

“Go on then. Go back to him if that’s really what you want. But don’t think for one goddamn second that this is over between us.”

I pivot and walk out of the bathroom without looking back, the image of the ring and her tear-stained face burning behind my eyes.

This isn’t over. Not even close.

I return to the table where Spectre and Wisp are waiting, their eyes fixed on me.

“Gentlemen.” I take my seat.

“Elijah.” Spectre holds his glass up in salute.

I nod to Spectre, then turn my attention to Wisp. He’s leaning back in his chair, the usual mischievous glint in his blue eyes. He’s the unpredictable one, the wild card. Broad shoulders, muscular arms. Looking like he could snap a man’s neck without breaking a sweat. Useful in every situation. Especially back then, it was.

Spectre leans forward, interlocking his fingers. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the lovely blonde, would it?”

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