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“Then we deal with him,” I insist, taking another step toward her. “Together.”
“No!” She raises her voice, panic creeping in as she shakes her head. “This isn’t your fight! You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“I know enough.” I reach out and grip her shoulders, searching for any flicker of trust in those bright eyes of hers. “I won’t let him touch you.”
Her breath hitches as she studies me, uncertainty flashing across her features.
“Amelia,” I say softly, hitching my pants and kneeling in closer so she can see the sincerity etched on my face. “You’re not doing this alone. I have contacts.”
She opens her mouth, but no words come out; instead, a tear slips down her cheek.
My resolve weakens at the sight of it. I pull her until her head is resting on my shoulder.
“I can’t let you be a target because of me,” she murmurs.
“I’m always a target. Being a Davenport makes me a target.” I want to tell her about my life. What happened to me when I wasyounger, but I’ll save that for another day. “So don’t worry about me,” I reply, refusing to back down.
She stares open-mouthed for a moment as the tension wraps around us like a noose.
“But—”
“No buts,” I cut in sharply.
“I’m sorry. I should never have agreed to this arrangement we have.”
“I’m not.” I can’t tell her how my heart beats for her like it never has before.
She sighs. “I’m not going ahead with it, West. I can’t. I’ve lived this life for three years. I’ve hidden in New York because it’s the only place in America I believed he’d never find me. But it never stopped me from being frightened every single day. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder.”
“I can look after you.”
“We’re talking about the mafia, West.”
“You lived with Felix.”
“I had nothing before him. I couch surfed when I met Felix. I used him for a safe place to live. I put up with everything he did because his home was a sanctuary for me. But the moment we go public.” Her finger flicks between us. “That’s the moment that Giovanni will find me. He always does.”
I watch as she bites her lip as frustration curls in my gut. “You think I’ll let you walk away?”
“West—”
“Don’t. Just don’t.” I run my hand through my hair, trying to contain the anger bubbling inside me.
“You’re asking me to let you walk into danger when this is fake? You’re being—”
“Someone who has the means to look after you.”
“Or I can hide again.” Her shoulders sag but her eyes widen, desperation flooding her features. “Can I stay in your apartment for a few days until I figure out where to go next?”
The question hangs in the air. My instincts scream at me to give her the safe life in London she craves before Giovanni finds her again. But then I remember how vulnerable she is, how lost.
And how I’m not ready to let her go.
“Where would you go in London if I gave you that?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I’ll figure it out,” she insists, but there’s an edge of pleading in her tone. “I can pretend to be with you for a while longer, enough time for you to find someone else before your dad marries you off.” She chuckles, but there’s little humor in her tone. And—” She swallows. “I won’t object if you go back to Club Elysium.”
“You think I’m going back to the sex club because this is complicated?” My voice rises. The thought of returning to that place makes bile rise in my throat. It feels wrong now, almost disrespectful to—