Page 122 of Punishing His Runaway Bride

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Five years ago, I didn't hold on, let that sweater sit in a drawer for five full years.

Midnight dreams, only its scent eased me a bit.

But it wasn't her.

I gripped the thing in my hand tight, watching the cab pull away slowly downstairs.

This time, I won't let you run.

Olivia.

No way in hell.

Chapter Eighteen

Olivia

I stood at the apartment door, key in the lock, had to turn it twice before it opened.

My hands were shaking.

They'd been shaking since I left the bathroom, shaking in the cab, shaking in the elevator, and now they were still shaking at my own front door.

I pushed the door open. Ella sat on the couch, coffee cup in hand. She looked up, and the smile on her face lasted less than a second before it vanished.

"Shit," she set down the cup and stood, "what happened to you?"

I didn't answer. I walked in, shut the door, leaned against it, and closed my eyes.

"Olivia?" Ella came over, hand on my shoulder. "You—God, you're trembling. What happened?"

I opened my eyes and looked at her.

"I saw him."

She froze.

"Who?"

"Ezio."

Her hand slid off my shoulder.

"You—where?"

"At his place." My voice came out thin, like it was traveling from somewhere far away. "In the bathroom."

Ella stared at me, eyes wide.

"Shit."

I pushed past her, walked to the couch, and sat down. My legs felt like noodles, couldn't hold me up anymore. Ella followed, sat beside me, hand on my knee.

"What happened?" she asked, voice gentle now, "did you two..."

"We did." I cut her off, closed my eyes.

Silence filled the living room.

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