Page 6 of Twisted Promise

“Ah.” She snapped her fingers. “Last-minute thing, aye?”

He didn’t deny it.

There was no explanation for how he dug the legal contract out of his manager’s bag, signed and sent it, and then booked the first flight he could find.

All because there was a chance of Anya joining the show when Meryl announced it to her millions of followers.

He hasn’t opened his manager’s messages or listened to the voicemails ever since he joined the set. A headache was an understatement, but it wouldn’t be the first time his manager’s words breezed through Alessio’s brain.

“Nice to see you again, I guess.” Meryl clicked her tongue and waved over her shoulder when she walked back into the house.

The other participants, a polyamorous trio, marched out after her. Alessio could hear them arguing with each other, mainly why one couldn’t comfort the other without asking, and the third partner carped about how he shouldn’t have to decipher mind games.

Four extra people on this ridiculous reality love show were too many, and he’d prefer it if they all went away.

Then Anya stepped through the front door, her eyes landing on the row of high-end cars before they ran up to her scarf. It was the same burgundy one she used to wear with a small baby blue patch sewn at the end because there was a hole in it, and she didn’t want to throw out a perfectly looking scarf.

The trio strolled past him, but not before eyeing him for the longest minute known to existence. Three sports carssimultaneously roared, kicking up white vapor into the night, and sped off to somewhere.

Alessio watched her interview and knew what was written on the envelope. Meryl had a different mission, so Anya couldn’t take her car.

That left him as her only option.

For the past hours, he had waited for her to make up her mind. It was amusing to watch her reluctance become acceptance. Never one to know how to mask her emotions, it was one of the things Alessio liked about her.

He sighed. Impatience roamed through his body, and he knew it would be like prying a weed with strong roots from the ground for her to ask him for a ride.

For his car, he stood corrected. She’d take any chance not to be around him.

He didn’t understand. Their breakup was quiet, mild, and perhapsboring. There were no tormented screams, wretched tears, or bitter aftertaste like betrayal and anger. He hadn’t wanted to break up, but he always respected and put her wants before his—only if it was good for her.

He didn’t know how to feel about the separation back then or even now.

He was certain of the wispy temptation in the back of his mind, the urge to hold some part of her, and the need to be in control this time around.

Alessio was kind to her and their relationship in the past, as much as the words bit at his tongue, so it was time to rein in the selflessness—another uncanny word to describe him.

“Get in,” he uttered, unlocking his car with a discreet click.

Her eyes lingered on the mini croquet toy dangling from his key fob before she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets.

“I can drive,” she replied.

He nodded. “I’m aware.”

Her cheeks, kissed by the tail of autumn wind, puffed slightly and turned a darker shade of pink.

“Can you stop staring at me?” she grumbled, shifting her weight to the other foot as a nervous gesture.

He shot back, unapologetically blunt, “You’re staring atme.”

A flow of incoherent mumbles, maybe snarky jabs, tumbled from behind her disgruntled pout. She blurted out a quiet “thank you” with her hand resting on the backseat window.

“It’s not a taxi.”

He didn’t want to give her the chance to put any more distance between them. Besides, the passenger seat was and will always be her privilege.

“I know.” Her hand lingered on the window, the condensation dissipating in circles around the heat from her fingers.

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