Page 121 of Marry Me Not
I checked the time again. It was twenty-five minutes past ten.
I shut the laptop, raked my fingers through my hair, and blew out a breath.
Fabiana tossed and turned for about an hour last night before falling asleep. I stayed up for a while after that, staring at the ceiling, replaying our fight inside my head.
Eventually, I’d cooled down. Eventually, my thinking had become more clear and led me to one conclusion.
I hadn’t handled last night well. Not at all.
Yes, I needed to get Fabiana to safety. Yes, I should’ve been more cautious about this entire trip. But none of that justified the way I’d spoken to her. A single word should not have sent me off the rails.
I was a man who prided himself on self-control. On restraint. On seeing things through the lens of logic instead of emotion.
Apparently, I’d been lying to myself, because if I were really that man, I would’ve recognized immediately that Fabiana was nothing like Vita. Of course she wasn’t. Letting any comparison between them take root, even in my own head, was insane.
Fabiana had gone far beyond the terms of our deal to help me. She was behaving like a partner, and instead of showing her my appreciation, I’d taken that stupid deal and thrown it in her face.
I’d made her feel like she wasn’t good enough, when nothing could be further from the truth.
I needed to fix this. And I would. But I also knew that no apology was going to make her happy about what came next.
If I was right about the Santoros and this town—and every instinct I had told me I was—then things were about to get dangerous. I wasn’t letting Fabiana be here for that.
The plane was already waiting to take her home. I just hoped that once I apologized, she wouldn’t fight me too hard. Hoped she wouldn’t look at me with that betrayed expression that had gutted me the night before.
She needed to go home, but I didn’t want to rush her out this morning. Which was why I was sitting here waiting for her to come down when she was ready.
I glanced at my watch again. Ten thirty.
We had to get going. I had to get her on that plane. Once she arrived back in New York, the jet would refuel and fly straight back here with Rom and four of our guys. There was no time to waste.
I closed my laptop, slid it under my arm, and went upstairs.
The bedroom was empty. Fabiana must be in the bathroom.
I went out onto the balcony and waited a couple of minutes before coming back inside and knocking on the bathroom door.
“Fabiana. We have to go.”
Silence.
“The silent treatment? Come on, Nettle.”
Nothing.
“Look, I could have handled last night better. A lot better.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Absolutely no response.
“Baby, come out and let me apologize to you. What are you doing in there?”
It was too silent. A suspicion occurred to me, and I grabbed the iron door handle and pulled. The door swung open easily.
The bathroom was as empty as the bedroom.
Fuck.
Another glance around the room, and my fear was confirmed. I’d been so agitated when I came in that I hadn’t noticed the missing purse and jacket.
