POV: Thane
I'm staring at Brielle through the car window, and she looks like she's seen a ghost.
Good. She should be scared. She should understand that running from me was never going to work.
"Get in the car," I say quietly.
She takes a step back. "How did you find me?"
"I always find what's mine." The words come out harsher than I meant. "Now get in before I drag you in."
Her grey eyes—wait, grey? When did she get contacts?—flash with anger. "I'm not yours, Thane. I never was."
That hits harder than any punch. "Brielle—"
"Don't call me that." Her voice is ice. "That girl died when she heard the truth. I'm Elle now."
"Elle." I test the name. Hate it. "We need to talk about what you heard—"
"There's nothing to talk about. You made yourself very clear." She turns to walk away.
I'm out of the car before I can think. My hand catches her wrist—gently, always gently with her. "Five minutes. That's all I'm asking."
She spins around, and for a second I see it—the hurt underneath the anger. The broken heart she's trying to hide.
"You don't get to ask me for anything," she says, her voice shaking. "You wanted to be free of your obligation? Congratulations. You are. Now let me go."
"No."
"Thane—"
"I said NO." I step closer. Close enough to see the contacts hiding her violet eyes. Close enough to smell her perfume—the same one she's worn since she was seventeen. "You don't get to run away without hearing the truth."
"I heard the truth! In the garden! You said—"
"I said what I had to say to protect you!" The words explode out of me. "Those men were investors who wanted to use you as leverage. They wanted me to marry you so they could control my company through you. So I lied. I said you were an obligation to get them off your back."
She goes very still. "What?"
"I lied, Brielle. Every word. Because the truth—" My voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. "The truth is I've been in love with you since we were sixteen years old."
The street noise fades away. It's just us, standing on a Milan sidewalk, with eight years of unspoken feelings hanging between us.
"You're lying," she whispers. "You're just saying that because—"
I pull the ring box from my pocket. The violet diamond catches the sunlight.
Her eyes go wide.
"I was going to propose yesterday morning," I say quietly. "Before the gala. Just you and me. No families. No obligations. Just the truth." I open the box. "This diamond took me three months to find. It's the exact color of your eyes. Cost me twelve million dollars, and I'd have paid a hundred times that."
She stares at the ring. At me. Her face is completely white.
"You... you were going to propose?"
"Yes."
"But Cassian and Dorian—"
"They're in love with you too." I might as well tell her everything now. "All three of us. We're all idiots who waited too long to tell you the truth."
A tear slides down her cheek. Then another. "I don't believe you."
"Then let me prove it." I take her hand. "Come back to New York. Let me—let us—show you how we really feel."
She pulls her hand away. "So you can all fight over me? Make me choose between three men who see me as some kind of prize?"
"That's not—"
"I'm not going back, Thane." Her voice is stronger now. "I'm not that weak girl anymore. I have a job here. A life. Power you don't even know about."
"What power?"
She smiles, and it's not the sweet smile I remember. It's sharp. Dangerous. "That's for me to know. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting."
She starts walking. I follow.
"Brielle—Elle—please. Just hear us out. All three of us. Let us explain."
"Why should I?" She doesn't stop moving. "So you can break my heart again? No thanks."
"I never wanted to hurt you."
"But you did." She finally stops and turns to face me. "You hurt me so badly I wanted to disappear. Do you understand that? I didn't just run away. I wanted to stop existing as Brielle SaintClair because that girl was worthless. Unwanted. A joke."
The pain in her voice destroys me. "You were never a joke to me. You were everything."
"Then why didn't you tell me?" Her voice breaks. "Why did you let me think I didn't matter?"
"Because everyone I've ever loved has been used against me." The confession rips out of me. "My parents were murdered because someone knew I loved them. I learned to hide everything important. Keep distance from what I care about most. And you—" I step closer. "You were the most important thing in my world. So I hid it. To keep you safe."
She's crying openly now. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
"I know."
"You're an idiot."
"I know."
"You broke my heart."
"I know." I reach up slowly, giving her time to pull away, and wipe a tear from her cheek. "And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me."
For a moment, I think she might say yes. Might let me fix this.
Then her phone rings.
She glances at it. Her face goes even whiter. "I have to take this."
"Brielle—"
"Elle," she corrects automatically. She answers the phone. "Hello?"
I watch her face change. Shock. Fear. Anger.
"When?" she asks whoever's calling. "How many?" A pause. "And my father knows?" Another pause. "I'm on my way."
She hangs up and starts walking faster.
"What happened?" I demand, keeping pace.
"None of your business."
"Everything about you is my business."
"Not anymore it's not!" She's almost running now. "Go home, Thane. Go back to your perfect life and leave me alone."
"What if I don't want my life without you in it?"
She stops so suddenly I almost crash into her. When she turns, her eyes are blazing. "You don't get to say things like that! You don't get to show up here with a ring and pretty words and expect me to just forgive you!"
"I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm asking for a chance."
"Well, you don't get one!" She's shouting now. People are staring. "You had eight years to tell me the truth! Eight years to show me you cared! And instead, you let me hear that you'd rather die than marry me!"
"That was Dorian, not—"
"It doesn't matter who said it! What matters is that ALL of you let me believe I was worthless!" She's breathing hard, tears streaming down her face. "Do you know what that feels like? To realize that the three people you loved most in the world see you as an obligation? A burden?"
"We never—"
"I'm done talking." She starts walking again. "Go home, Thane. This conversation is over."
I grab her arm—gently but firm. "I'm not leaving Milan without you."
"Then I hope you like Italian food, because you're going to be here a long time." She pulls free. "Now let go before I call the police."
She means it. I can see it in her eyes.
So I let go. Watch her walk away. Again.
My phone rings. Nikolai.
"Sir, we have a problem."
"What now?"
"Brielle's father just landed in Milan. And he's not alone. He brought lawyers. Corporate security. And—" Nikolai pauses. "And he's claiming Brielle stole company assets. He's trying to have her arrested."
My blood runs cold. "When did he land?"
"Twenty minutes ago. He's heading to the police station now to file—"
I'm already running. "Where's Brielle?"
"According to her location—wait, she just stopped. Via Montenapoleone. Moretti Fashion House."
I sprint toward my car. "Keep tracking her. And get me everything you can on what her father's claiming she stole."
"Already on it. Thane—there's something else."
"What?"
"He's not claiming she stole money. He's claiming she stole controlling interest in SaintClair Holdings. That's fifty-one percent of the company."
I freeze with my hand on the car door. "What?"
"According to his lawyers, Brielle's grandmother left her controlling interest, and Brielle knew about it. He's claiming she manipulated an old woman and stole his inheritance."
A smile spreads across my face. "She didn't steal anything. She owns it."
"Sir?"
"Don't you see? This is why she ran. Not just because of us. Because she discovered she's the most powerful person in her family." I laugh, feeling something like pride. "That's my girl."
"Your girl just became a wanted woman."
My smile fades. "How long until her father gets a warrant?"
"In Italy? With enough money? An hour. Maybe less."
I check my watch. Brielle's meeting started ten minutes ago. She has no idea what's coming.
I have to warn her. Have to protect her.
Even if she hates me for it.
I'm about to get in my car when I see them—two police cars pulling up in front of Moretti Fashion House.
I'm too late.
The doors open. Officers get out. And walking between them, looking smug and powerful, is Brielle's father.
He's here to arrest his own daughter.