Page 162 of Phantom Mine

I’ve been sick to my stomach for the past two days just thinking about it. I lied and told Aurora it was food poisoning when all along I knew it was because of the heart breaking in my chest. That’s also how long it took for me to stop crying.

Why did he even give me this stupid key?

“Here,” he’d said as he handed it to me, “This way you can come home whenever you want, regardless of whether I’m here or not.”

Why did we tangle so many parts of our lives together? Was it so that breaking apart would be as painful as possible?

The door is there, waiting.

On the other side of it lies everything I’ve ever wanted. This lone panel of wood isn’t my enemy but I’ve made it such, because crossing it means giving it all up. My pulse thumps in my chest like a warning. It sends a rush of blood to my head, making me lightheaded.

My body’s reaction is only going to get more debilitating from here, so I square my shoulders, take a breath, and slide the infernal key into his front door one final time.

It opens as easily as it always has, welcoming me home for one last goodbye.

Matteo and Enzo sit at the living room table, a couple of beers set between the two of them. They’re bent over pages of documents, matching expressions of concentration splashed across their features.

Matteo looks up at the sound of the door opening and his face transforms. The tight lines of focus ease from his eyes, melting into a happy smile he has no business directing entirely at me. His chest settles at the bottom of a long, slow exhale, almost like he’s been holding his breath since the last time he saw me.

The smile slips abruptly off his lips, replaced by a concerned line between his brows.

One look.

It takes him one look to know something is very wrong with me. His eyes scan my face intently in search of answers he won’t find.

Enzo’s gaze pings meaningfully back and forth between Matteo and I as he also tries to figure out what’s going on.

I clear my throat, but it does nothing to remove the cobweb of emotions strangling my windpipe like a noose. “I said I’d be honest and that I wouldn’t keep things from you anymore, so that’s why I’m telling you this,” I start, saying the words I spent hours rehearsing today just so I’d have the courage to actuallysay them. “Not because I expect anything from you—a reaction or much less that it’ll matter given the reality of our situation—but because I promised you that I would be honest.”

Matteo’s spine jerks, then stiffens. Still, his voice is gentle. “What’s going on,cara mia?”

My chest is unbearably tight and growing more strained with every step I take towards him, but I don’t want to shout this from across the room. I don’t want to fling the news carelessly at him like he isn’t the man I love.

“I’m—” My throat shuts down, my body revolting against the words. I try to swallow, but my mouth feels like it’s covered in sandpaper. “I’m…” I try again, to no avail.

When I finally manage to shove the words out, they emerge just as raw and devastated as I feel. There’s no sign of the cold detachment I’d intended to use to mask my real pain.

“I’m engaged.”

Enzo chokes on his beer. The sound of his coughing fills the dangerous silence that falls over us. He beats a fist loudly against his chest, his wide eyes pinned on his boss, bracing for his reaction.

Matteo doesn’t make either of us wait long.

The temperature drops below zero and keeps plummeting as he rises slowly to his feet.

“What?” His voice is eerily calm. Somehow he manages to draw the one syllable into a question that feels endlessly longer and far more threatening.

My mind goes completely blank. All the things I had planned and practiced to say disappear, and I start rambling instead.

“It’s not a love—” I stop, wilting beneath Matteo’s sudden glare. “It’s not a love match. Obviously. It’s an arranged marriage my brother negotiated. I only found out about it two days ago—”

“You’ve known fortwofuckingdaysthat you’re engaged to someone else and you’re only just now telling me?” The words tear from Matteo’s throat like they’ve been ripped out.

“Ooh.” Enzo stands, mildly alarmed. “Alright, I’m going to go drink this beer…anywhere but here.”

“And you thought it wouldn’t ‘matter’ to me.” His voice is deceptively even on the surface but danger is laced so thoroughly through each syllable, it leaves little doubt as to the explosion looming on the horizon. “Is that what you just said?”

“Hold on, boss, I’m still here,” Enzo reminds him, scurrying further back into the apartment. “Let me leave before you lose your fucking mind, no need for any collateral damage in this.”

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