Page 133 of Liar

“What car? No. Stop.”

I fight him while he dresses me, and as carries me out of the house. I’m dropped into the backseat of a car and trapped inside after the door slams behind me. Frantically, I look around, fearing this will be the last time I’ll see him.

But I’m wrong. He’s there, placing luggage into the trunk.

Then, he’s next to me, slipping into the seat beside me.

“What’s happening?”

He stares out the window at the blackness beyond. It’s early morning, the sun is just rising. Everything’s quiet and serene. Except me and my breaking heart.

He’s leaving, isn’t he?

“I love you. Why are you doing this?”

No answer.

But I soon discover my assumption’s correct when the car pulls into an open field. A helicopter is waiting in the same location where it landed weeks ago.

This is goodbye.

“I’ll wait for you to send for me.”

“My enemies will use you to get to me.” He turns toward me with narrowed eyes. “I’ll never allow that to happen. Go to school. Live your life. Forget me.”

I cock my head. “With other men?”

He punches the headrest, that wild look from earlier returning. I see him suck in a deep breath, fighting for control. This is killing him, as much as it’s killing me.

“Please,” I whisper, hoarsely. “Choose me.”

“My future was decided before I even met you. I’ll honor the promise I made.”

“What about this promise?” I flash my wedding ring at him.

The car comes to a stop.

“Why torture me this way? Why drag me to this field to witness your leaving me?”

He leans in. “Listen carefully. Diego will be well taken care of—I swear it on my life.” Reaching across me, he pushes open the door then gently, ever so gently, wipes a tear away from my cheek with his thumb. A light kiss is placed on my lips.

Then, he completely, utterly destroys me.

“I love you, Luciana. That’s why I have to let you go.”

I gasp.

“Take her.”

“Wait!” I’m snatched from the back seat then thrust into someone’s arms. I can barely make out his face between my tears.

“Diego,” I cry out, alarmed.

“Your bags are in the chopper.”

“My bags?”I’mleaving? “Where—” I can’t even finish my question, my surprise, theirbetrayal, a shock to the senses.

“Copenhagen. To Aunt Gretchen.”