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“If it had stopped there, no. But this has affected our parents, and us. Look at the deal in Moricosia. Look at Acto. Our families have spent decades actively trying to destroy one another. The fact you and I can put that aside is one thing. I don’t see anyone else in my family doing the same thing.”

She was quiet, his pronouncement hitting her harder than she’d expected.

“Do you disagree?” His voice was gentle. As though he understood how much she hated that.

She didn’t answer, and he expelled a heavy breath. “Tell me if you can actually imagine your brothers giving anyone in my family the time of day.”

“Not at first. But maybe in time?—,”

“No, Emilia. No. It’s never going to happen.”

She shifted her face, so she was looking directly at him. “Do you wish things were different?”

His lips twisted to the side as his eyes pierced hers. “What’s the point of wishing for the impossible? I’m a realist. I prefer to stick to the facts.”

“And the facts are, our families hate each other, and always will?”

“Deep down, you know it’s true.”

“Yes,” she admitted, that chaser of worry growing to become a tidal wave inside of her. Because the more time they spent on the boat, the more convinced she became of one thing, and one thing only: she never wanted this to end. To hell with their families, to hell with anyone.

Three nights later,back in New York at a private fundraiser, Salvatore existed with a constant background hum of awareness when it came to the date. And the fact that they had less than a week together, before their agreed upon parting of ways.

Sure, they could move that arbitrary date. But what was the point in kicking the can down the road? Not wanting to end things with Emilia, if anything, convinced Salvatore that it was the right thing to do. The necessary thing.

He’d already decided to leave Manhattan at the end of the week. He’d been looking to buy some land in Singapore, and the deal was going to be complex and layered. Being on the groundmade sense. But more importantly, it removed the very real temptation of weakening and reaching out for Emilia even when he knew he shouldn’t. Far better to get on with his life where seeing her wasn’t an option.

It seemed impossible to contemplate now, but he knew this would get easier. Day by day, night by night, the power she held over him would lessen. It would just take time, and distance.

But for now, she was here, and he intended to make the most of that fact.

As if on cue, she moved into his field of vision, looking stunning in a fitted emerald green dress. In the midst of a crowd filled with tuxedos and evening gowns, Emilia was a knockout. There was something in the way she held herself, her poise, grace, beauty all beyond compare. His whole body fired to life in recognition of that.

She leaned closer to a woman to her left, said something, smiled and tapped the side of her nose, so his own lips twitched in ready response to that impish, silly gesture. The other woman nodded, then gestured across the room. Salvatore’s pulse throbbed as her eyes skated over him then jerked back, for the briefest moment, as her lips quirked into a half-smile, before she continued letting her gaze roam. Salvatore did the same, looking beyond Emilia, and noticing her brother Leandro a small distance away, making a beeline for Emilia.

The question she’d asked on the boat had been running through his mind ever since. Was it impossible to think they could put their families’ war aside and try to get on? People came to truces all the time. Why couldn’t they?

As if to contradict that very idea, though, Leandro looked in Salvatore’s direction and stopped walking, his expression tightening as his dark eyes narrowed, so Salvatore felt a surge of dislike form in the pit of his gut. Dislike, hatred, disgust.

Feelings he’d never felt for Emilia. Strange, when she was part of the same family, cursed with the same backlog of generational sins.

But Emilia was Emilia. He shifted his gaze towards her once more, at the moment Leandro reached her and put his hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him and her face broke into a broad smile as she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She looked so beautiful. Every movement was graceful, like a ballet of some kind.

His gut tightened with a now familiar sensation. Anticipation.

The certainty that within a few hours, they’d be back in bed, limbs entwined, moving as one. He couldn’t fucking wait.

Hell.

Hecouldn’twait. That was the problem.

Even before the idea was fully formed, Salvatore was on his way to the bar, where he ordered two drinks—her own drink of choice now burned into his mind. From then, it was just a matter of catching her eyes again.

He reclined with one elbow on the bar, knowing it wouldn’t be long before her eyes gaze him out, as he had her. It was just the way they were together. Like magnets.

For a few days more, anyway.

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