Page 139 of Fallen Rook

And I was never going to find out.

I lifted her ankle, gently resting it on my muscular thigh and digging my thumbs into the pad of her foot. She rested the book on her chest, studying my busted-up face, with the blues and purples and fat lip. She didn’t seem surprised, nor too worried about the engagement shoot tomorrow.

Something passed between us, an acknowledgment that we both understood there wouldn’t be one.

“Why?” she whispered, a tear rolling down her porcelain cheek. I knew exactly what she was asking. Why was I canceling the wedding? Why was I going against my brothers? Why was I throwing away the last shred of chance for peace between the Bratva and the Camorra?

“I’m gay.” I kissed the back of her foot. Not bi, not confused, gay. “And I’m in love with someone. I thought I could enter this marriage with a clear conscience and clean heart. Now I can’t do either.”

“The person you keep referring to on Instagram…is that him?”

I nodded.

Pain lodged in every crease and curve in her lovely face. She forced her lips up in a rueful grin, aquamarine eyes glittering like sunrays dancing over the ocean. “That’s how I knew I’d already lost you.”

“How do you mean?”

“You stopped posting thirst traps. I figured you didn’t need to anymore. You’d found someone who worshipped you, who gave you all the confirmation you sought.”

She scooted into a sitting position, nudging me so our knees touched. We were both staring at the turned-off TV. Sirens blared in the distance. We were stuck in a situation we’d both been thrust into by others, into uncharted territory normal people our age never had to navigate.

“How long have you known you’re gay?” she asked quietly.

“I think deep inside I’ve always known. But the reckoning only happened in the last few weeks.”

She nodded, still staring at an indeterminate spot on the wall. “I won’t breathe a word to anyone about it. If the Camorra is anything like the Bratva, this could be very dangerous for you, Enzo.”

Reaching for her hand, I squeezed it in a silent thank-you.

“How did you know what I came here to say?” I asked.

“I didn’t at first. Not before I got here.” She pushed a dark tendril of hair behind her ear. “I mean, we haven’t been talking much lately, and I thought today would be a good day to test our sexual compatibility. So when I got here, I took a shower, wore something sexy, did my hair and makeup…” She worried her lower lip, shaking her head with a snort. “Then, as I waited on the couch, I realized this place doesn’t look lived-in anymore. I know your cleaners come on a Wednesday, so it’s been a few days since they were here. Yet your bed is perfectly made, there are no dishes in the sink, no knickknacks thrown around. Your ashtray is still clean, for goodness’ sake. It is obvious you’ve been living somewhere else recently.”

Women were remarkably attentive creatures. I was shocked the FBI wasn’t swarming exclusively with them. Aging men had nothing on this particular demographic. They needed to fire their entire HR department.

“You’re right,” I said.

“Well, are you at least happy?” she croaked.

“We broke up today,” I admitted. “So no, I’m not happy. But I feel…relieved.”

“To not have to marry me?” Her chin wobbled, but she kept her head high.

“No, you silly goose.” I threw an arm around her shoulders, yanking her to me and kissing the top of her head. “I’m happy I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not anymore. Straight. Attracted to women. Capable of marrying one. But yes, I’m also thankful I’m not going to drag you into a loveless marriage. You’re young, beautiful, smart, and kind. You deserve a man who worships you.”

I was going to assume full responsibility for the breakdown of the engagement, pay for the entire wedding, and face the consequences.

“I need you to promise me one thing, Katya.”

She blinked at me.

“Don’t let Alex wrestle you into another arrangement with a mobster for his own benefit. You deserve a man who will peel away every layer of you like you were a precious gift and find out all about you.”

“Lyosha won’t try to fix me up with anyone again,” she said confidently.

“How do you know?”

“Because I told him that if this wedding is canceled, I’m not doing this again. I want someone normal. Sane. Maybe an accountant or something.”