Page 42 of Intrigue

Alessandro lifts a brow.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he reaches down, plucks my engagement ring off the nightstand, and twirls it between his fingers.

My breath stutters.

The small band of gold, the one that’s supposed to meanforever, looks insignificant between his rough fingers, like something weightless. Worthless.

“You don’t even wear it when you sleep?” he murmurs in a low and amused tone. “Interesting.”

I want to snatch it back. To shove it onto my finger like it might somehow undo everything, like it might rewrite the choices I’ve already made.

But I don’t move.

Because we both know the truth.

I mentally took it off the moment I walked in here.

He never asked me to take it off. I did that on my own yesterday—in our reckless, desperate rush to consume each other.

And yet, he didn’t say a word. Because he knows.

He knows I couldn’t bear to fuck him with another man’s ring on my finger.

What does that say about me? Where does my loyalty lie—with the man staring at me now, half-naked, the one who can unravel me with a single touch? Or the man I said yes to, the one I promised a future?

I don’t know. All I know is that every day, I feel more and more like the shitty person I’ve always feared I am.

“You don’t belong to him,” he murmurs, holding the ring between us like it’s inconsequential. Like it never meant anything at all.

“Give that back.”

He doesn’t. Instead, he steps closer, pressing the cool metal into my palm.

“Put it on,” he says.

My breath catches. “What?”

“Put it on,” he repeats, softer this time. “And look me in the eyes when you do it.”

I stare at him, pulse hammering. He just watches me, waiting.

And that’s when I know.

This isn’t about a ring. This is about choosing. He’s giving me an out.

If I put it back on, I lose him.

If I don’t—

I lose myself.

The ring feels like fire in my palm. I tell myself to slip it on, to force it over my knuckle, to say nothing has changed.

But my fingers don’t move.

And his mocking smile deepens.

Alessandro reaches out, tracing a single finger down my wrist, a touch so light it shouldn’t make me shiver. But it does.