Page 83 of Temptation and Tyranny

Barcelona would be beautiful. Warm evenings, streets alive with energy, the Mediterranean air carrying the scent of jasmine and sea salt. I could almost picture her there, strolling downLas Ramblas, maybe stopping at one of the cafés with that beautiful, faraway smile she sometimes wore.

“This is pathetic,” I muttered, pushing away from my desk. But instead of putting down my phone, I found myself looking at flights. I couldn’t ask Steele for his jet. Not this time.

The trip would be easy enough to justify to myself. Viktor’s threats were still hanging over us,and his reach extended into Spain. I had contacts in Barcelona who could keep an eye on her, but could I trust them to be vigilant enough? To notice every potential threat?

This was about protection. Strategy. The fact that I dreamed about her every night, that I caught myself reaching for her whenever I woke up, that every throb of my leg made my chest ache with missing her—none of that factored into this decision.

Right.

A knock at the door startled me. “Come in.”

Mario entered, carrying fresh bandages. “Time to change these.” He glanced down at my phone. “Planning a trip?”

“No,” I said too quickly, closing the app. “Just...reviewing security concerns.”

“Uh-huh.” Mario began removing my old bandages with practiced efficiency. “You know, if you’re worried about her safety in Barcelona, you could just send a security team.”

“I’m not—”

“Save it,” he cut me off. “I’ve known you too long, Cooper. You’re not fooling anyone.” He checked the healing wound with careful fingers. “The Barcelona underworld isn’t as stable as it used to be. Lots of new players trying to establish territory. If someone wanted to make a point...”

I caught his wrist. “What have you heard?”

Mario met my gaze steadily. “Nothing specific. But Viktor’s been making calls. Reaching out to old contacts in Europe.”

My heart rate spiked. “You think he’d—”

“I think Viktor Petrov is a hard man toanticipate.” Mario resumed bandaging with careful precision. “And I think if something happened to her while you were sitting here pouting, you’d never forgive yourself.”

The words hung in the air between us as he finished his work. I knew he was right. The thought of Allegra alone in Barcelona, unaware of potential threats, made my blood run cold. But how could I protect her when I was the one who had pushed her away? But I continued to lie to myself.

“Her father would never let Viktor touch her.” I looked over Mario’s shoulder, out at the endless rows of illegal goods.

“The wound’s healing well,” Mario said, gathering his supplies. “You could handle a flight to Spain if you needed to.” He headed for the door, then paused. “You know, there’s a saying: Sometimes the most dangerous place to be is away from the ones we love.”

After he left, I pulled up the flight options again. A week in Barcelona. I could watch from a distance, make sure she was safe. She’d never even know I was there.

I could almost hear Steele’s voice in my head: “You’re being a coward.”

And maybe I was. Maybe following her to Barcelona would be just another way of avoiding the truth—that I missed her with an intensity that frightened me. That pushing her away hadn’t made me feel safer, only empty.

I opened the app back up. My finger hovered over the “Book Now” button. One click and I’d be committed. One click and I’d be following the woman I loved, allwhile pretending it was for her protection rather than my own desperate need to see her face.

I could picture it. Barcelona. Allegra giving her presentation, probably nervous but hiding it well like she always did. The possibility of seeing her smile again, even from a distance...

I closed my eyes, remembering the last time I’d seen that smile. Before everything fell apart. Before I’d chosen fear over love.

The real question wasn’t whether to go to Barcelona. The real question was whether I was finally ready to admit why I wanted to.

Chapter Thirty-One

Allegra

The taxi navigated through the bustling streets of Barcelona, the city’s blend of Modernist architecture and ancient stone passing by in a blur outside the window, Gaudí’s distinctive spires rising in the distance.

I sat in the back seat, my fingers absentmindedly flipping through the conference brochure. Under normal circumstances, I would have been thrilled at the opportunity. Now, it felt like an escape. A distraction from the ache that had taken up permanent residence in my chest since Cooper had ended things.

As we pulled up to the hotel, a grand building of old-world luxury, I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the days ahead. Professional. Focused. That’s what I needed to be now. Allegra Prescott, respected physical therapist, here to share her expertise and learn from her peers. Not Allegra, the woman with a broken heart and a father who was one of the most dangerous men in Europe.

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