Page 117 of Company Ink

"Do you have to produce an heir?" I blurt out.

Adrian remains still. "No, we don't," he rasps.

My eyes harden, narrowing at him. There's doubt in his tone. "No?Never? Or notright now?"

"It hasn't been brought up yet," Adrian says matter-of-factly. "And it won't ever be if we're together."

"See? That's just—" I grunt, irritation spiking. "This isn't normal. This isn't a conversation we should be having, whether or not you'll need to knock up your wife at some point in the future." I shake my head feverishly. "I can't do this, Adrian, I can't. It's too weird. It's—I can't."

"Cassie, please," Adrian begs. "Can't you just look past this? I swear to you, on my papa's grave, I will never lie to you again.Ever.You have my word."

Despite everything that's happened I believe him. Maybe that's the problem with me. I'm too trusting. I'm naive. I want to see the good in him. I've seen it before. I fell for it before.

"I don't want to be your mistress," I state in a hushed tone, removing his hand off of mine and standing up. I won't fall for it again. "I think you should leave." The words leave my mouth so slowly, so agonizingly quiet, somber,serious.

Adrian's face tightens, his eyes hooded, sad. He knows. He knows this is it. He knows I've made up my mind and yet, he whispers, "You won't be my mistress, Cassie. You'll be happy." He stalks towards me in two purposeful steps, cupping my face in his hands, his desperate touch reverberating through my body. "We'llbe happy."

I bite my lip.Don't cry."We can't be happy Adrian, not when you're tethered to another person. It doesn't work. It doesn't feel right."

Adrian's thumb grazes my jaw, my lips, firm, full of longing. "We canmakeit work, Cariño," he breathes, resting his forehead against mine. His voice faltering. "I believe in us, Cassie. We can make it work. We can."

I place my trembling hands on Adrian's and slowly drag them down, our fingers locked. "No, Adrian, we can't." I graze my thumb along his palm, soaking in this moment. Our last moment. "Youmight believe in us, but…butmyfaith is shattered. I can't—" I pull away, taking a step back, my breath catching in the back of my throat. "I'm sorry."

Erratic silence swirls around us, an air of finality, of closure, of an end.

"Cassie..."

No.

"I'm going to close my eyes and count to ten," I whisper, our gaze colliding one last time. "And when I open them, I need you to be gone."

I can't watch him walk away. I won't. I hug myself as I begin to count. This is for the best. This makes sense. I'm doing the right thing. It would never work. It couldn't.

One.

Two.

Nothing. No movement. No sounds. Please leave. Please.

Four.

Footsteps, getting quieter and quieter.

Six.

My front door creaking open.

Eight.

And gently shutting.

Ten.

I stand in the middle of my living room, unable to move, my eyes closed, my heart beating heavily.

All the anger, frustration, and rage that's been festering inside of me the last day morphs into sorrow.

He fucked up. Adrian fucked up. But my heart hurts for him. For us. He's stuck. But it was his choice. He made that decision. He chose to help his brother, his family, their livelihood at the expense of his future. It's sad. But it's the reality.

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