Page 88 of Forever Fake

She clamps her mouth shut, and I exit the room. Thank fuck that’s over. With her and Oz locked away, I’m free to go get my wife.

My private jet takes me to Parma, Italy. It seems Gin and Elena have returned to the city, done with their adventure. I hope my wife is ready to come back to New York with me. I have so much to say to her about us, and aboutour future. A month apart has given me a lot of time to think and there’s no way in hell I’m letting Ginevra slip through my fingers. I might be falling in love with my fake wife. Though nothing aboutusis fake anymore.

She’s my wife, for as long as we both shall live. I’m a fool for not realizing it sooner.

I knock on a colorful front door in a crowded neighborhood, double-checking that I have Elena’s address right.

The door opens a crack, Elena’s shy face coming into view. “May I help you?”

“It’s me, Blake Baron. Gin’s husband. Is she here?” I know damn well she’s here because of the location pinging on my phone.

Instead of inviting me in, Elena slips out and closes the door behind her. “She left. Her plane took off about an hour ago.”

“What do you mean? I know for a fact her suitcases are inside.”

She nods. “They are… She took a carry on and caught a flight back to New York. She didn’t take much because she’s not planning to stay there for long. It’s a quick trip to say goodbye to her family and friends.”

My pulse spikes and my thoughts race.To say goodbye?Without thinking, I blurt, “I don’t understand.”

Elena sighs, like I’m thick in the head. “She’s moving here, to Italy. Permanently.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. She even bought a house. Didn’t you know that?”

I did, but I thought it was just a stunt she was pulling. How could I have totally misjudged that, her, everything?

She glances up and down the street, then at me. “I know what happened between you two, about the blackmail and everything. If you care about her at all, you’ll let her go. She’s so sweet and full of life. She’s too good for a horrible man like you, Mr. Baron.Let her out of your twisted arrangement. She doesn’t deserve to be forced to be with you.”

Her words twist their way into my heart like corkscrews. What did Gin tell Elena about me? Does she really think I’m horrible? Perhaps I’m being selfish by coming after her and insisting we stay together. I promised myself I’d do better by her, but obviously I’m failing.

Then I distinctly recall Gin calling meterrible, horrible, unfair. She hasn’t complained much recently, but perhaps she’s simply resigned to her fate, to my demands.

What does my wife really want?

“Right...” I step away from her, in a kind of daze as I make it back to my jet and prepare to head home.

Elena’s right, Gin does deserve better. In truth, I’d forgotten about how I’d blackmailed Gin, that seems like forever ago. But it obviously hasn’t slipped her mind. Is she really only my wife because of the threats I’ve hung over her head all this time? What will she do if given an actual choice?

I rake my fingers through my hair, my gut wrenching. Fuck. I let this go too far without realizing it. I used her, with the intention of ending our marriage, of tossing her away when I no longer needed her. What kind of fucking monster does something like that?

Me. I do. It’s all I’ve done my whole life, so why would Gin be any different? But she is. I actually care about her feelings, her happiness. For the first time in my life I want to consider another person’s perspective and emotions. I want to put them above my own. Is that love? Is that what it means to love someone?

Up to this point, I’ve treated her no better than any of the other men who’ve used and abused her for their own pleasure, for their own gain.

I’m actually worse than them because I did what they couldn’t do—I trapped her. Snared her into a legally binding contract after giving her no choice. Fuck, I really am a terrible person.

How did this get so out of hand? Was it the amount of time we spent together after I moved her into my house? I’m sure the massage, her cooking for me, and all the other sweet, thoughtful gestures blurred the lines. By the time we arrived in the West Indies our business deal had completely fizzled—more like it had been obliterated by a tsunami. And our wedding… that was the single most real experience I’ve ever had with another person.

Since then, I kept repeating the same bullshit to her about our arrangement and how we’ll divorce in a year. Because those things were safe to say. What wasn’t safe to speak aloud were things like…I want you. I love you.

My body told her, but my lips never did. I was too much of a coward.

What do I do to fix this? How do I make her see that she’s not tied to me unless she wants to be?

When the jet finally takes off, I’m still racking my brain for a solution. This shouldn’t be so difficult. Often the easiest solution is the best option.

I know. I’ll take Elena’s advice and set her free. I’ll give her a choice. I’ll divorce her.

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