Page 79 of Temptation and Tyranny

“It doesn’t matter if it’s true,” I said finally. “True, false—the end result is the same. I got shot. I nearly died. And it happened because I was stupid enough to let myself fall in love.”

“Cooper—”

“Get out, Allegra.” I closed my eyes, suddenly exhausted. “Just...get out.”

I heard her quiet sob, then the soft click of the door closing. Only then did I let myself feel the full weight of what I’d done, of the lies I’d told to push her away. The physical pain in my chest was nothing compared to the turmoil in my heart. I had let myself fall for her, had opened up in a way I never had before. And look where it had led me—shot, vulnerable, and more terrified than I’d ever been. Not of Rousseau, but of the depth of my feelings for his daughter. Of how easily she was taken from me. How broken I would be if it happened again.

When the door opened a few minutes later, Ihoped it would be a doctor with painkillers. Instead, Steele entered, his face dark with anger.

“I just passed Allegra in the hallway,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“We need to talk about her father first,” I deflected. “I know you’re worried about retaliation—”

“Don’t change the subject—”

“I’m not. I have enough dirt on Rousseau’s finances to destroy him,” I cut in. “One leak about how his empire is crumbling, and his enemies will tear him apart. He knows it too. It’s why he didn’t kill me outright—he needs that information contained. Knows I’ve got it backed-up somewhere.”

Steele studied me for a moment. “You’re sure about that?”

“It’s quite the insurance policy.” I laughed bitterly. “So no, we don’t need to worry about daddy dearest anymore.”

“Fine. Then let’s talk about why his daughter just ran past me crying.”

I tried to maintain my composure. “I ended it. It was never going to work anyway.”

“Bullshit,” Steele spat. “I saw how you looked at her, how she fought to save you. So I’ll ask again—what the fuck did you do?”

“What I had to do.”

Steele shook his head in disgust. “You know, I always thought you were smarter than me. But right now? You’re being the biggest fool I’ve ever met.”

“You don’t understand—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” he cut me off. “You’re pushing her away because you’re scared. Andyou’re using her father as an excuse, even though we both know she had nothing to do with what happened.”

I flinched at his accuracy, but tried to maintain my stance. “It’s not that simple.”

“Actually, it is that simple,” Steele countered. “You’re in love with her, and it terrifies you. You know you’re going to have to change your life. So instead of being brave enough to face that, you’re throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“Love gets you killed in our world,” I argued.

“No,” Steele said quietly. “Love keeps you alive. Gives you something to fight for, something to come home to. But you’re too busy being a coward to see that.”

His words hit me like physical blows, but I couldn’t let him see how much they affected me. “Are you done?”

Steele stood in the middle of the room, his expression a mixture of anger and pity. “Yeah, I’m done. But let me tell you something, Cooper. That kind of love? It’s rare in any world, let alone ours. And you’re throwing it away because you’re too scared to admit that you might actually deserve it.”

He headed for the door, then paused. “You know what the real irony is? You think you’re protecting yourself by pushing her away. But all you’re doing is ensuring that you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting this moment.”

After he left, I lay there in the darkness, his words echoing in my mind. The pain in my chest seemed to intensify, but I knew it had nothing to do with my wound and everything to do with the look in Allegra’s eyes as I’d pushed her away. But I couldn’t take it back now. Couldn’t admit that every word had been alie, that I was terrified not of betrayal but of the depth of my own feelings. It was better this way, I told myself. Safer.

Even if safer felt like slowly dying inside.

The next twenty-four hours passed in a blur of pain medication, fitful sleep, and tense silences. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face, heard her voice, felt the ghost of her touch. In those moments between sleep and waking, when the pain medication made everything hazy, I almost called out for her. Almost. But then I’d remember the sound of the gunshot, the feeling of my life bleeding out on that warehouse floor, and I’d restrain. This was why we couldn’t be together. This was why love was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Next time, it could be her.

I was hovering near sleep when Colton entered my room. The moment he saw me awake, relief washed over his face—the kind of relief only a brother who’d almost lost his sibling could feel.

“God, Cooper,” he said softly, pulling up a chair. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

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