Page 191 of The Owner's Temptation

“Look at me when you say it, you coward.” She yells it, anger cracking through her steady voice.

That word lands. It sinks in and carves a hole right through me. I turn. Slowly. Because if I move too fast, I’ll fall apart.

Her hair is a mess. Her eyes are glassy. But she’s sitting straight up in my bed like a fucking warrior, holding that sheet to her chest like armor. Her chin trembles but she doesn’t back down.

And still, she looks like the strongest person I’ve ever known.

I look her in the eye and lie through my goddamn teeth.

“You need to learn to separate business from the heart,” I tell her, my voice as cold as I can make it.

Her breath hitches, lips parting in disbelief, but I don’t stop there.

“Because when it feels real… you have to know it’s not.”

She stares at me. Waiting. Hoping I’ll take it back. But I don’t. I can’t. Because if I do, she stays—and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Not with Lorenzo’s reach crawling closer to my door.

I grab my watch—black, polished, weightless in my hand—and head toward the door. My voice is flat, final, as I toss the last dagger behind me.

“Eve should be here in five minutes with clothes for you.”

She doesn’t follow. She doesn’t yell.

But I feel her still. I feel the heartbreak trailing behind me like smoke, seeping into my skin, into my lungs.

Outside, the sun is far too bright. The air too still. As if the world dares to continue like nothing inside me has changed.

I step out of the house, jaw clenched, eyes burning. The Rolex presses into my palm. I stare at it for a beat—then with a harsh grunt, I throw it with all the force I can summon.

It hits the stone siding hard, the glass face shattering on impact, sending tiny fragments scattering across the drive like splinters of time I can’t get back.

I swing my leg over the motorcycle and start the engine. The roar fills the silence, but it doesn’t drown out the echo of her voice, or the echo of my own cowardice.

I don’t look back.

I can’t.

Because I left her in my bed.

In my world.

A place she never should’ve belonged.

But God help me…

She did.

It’s only been two days.

That’s what I keep telling myself.

Two days isn’t long. People take longer vacations. Sick days.

Breakups.

But this doesn’t feel like a normal breakup.

It feels like someone took a sledgehammer to something fragile inside me and walked away before checking the damage.

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