Page 20 of Mafia Scars

I pulled in a steady breath. What was the best thing to say?

“It’s just everything. It’s been a strange time. Maybe I need a vacation too.”

“No way.”

We both laughed at his sarcasm because we both knew the last time I was on vacation was the year before last. Gigi and I went to Barbados, had a fantastic time, and planned to go back. We, or rather me—it was me—was always busy and up to my neck in work. I hadn’t had the chance to plan to go anywhere.

Look at me laughing. It felt nice.

He continued to stare as the laughter faded, and my cheeks heated from the intensity of his gaze.

“What?”

“Can’t believe I forgot how much more beautiful you are when you’re laughing.” Sinclaire continued looking at me.

I should… leave, or something. I should… I didn’t know. I’d kissed him once, but I’d been drunk. I hadn’t forgotten what that felt like, and as he moved closer, I remembered fully, and my stomach clenched at the thought.

He reached out and brushed the edge of my jaw, making my skin tingle.

Then… he lowered his lips to mine, pressing his mouth to my cautious lips, kissing me. But in an instant, an image of Luc flashed into my mind like I’d been zapped by lightening, and I jumped back. Literally jumped and shook my head. My head that felt like it was going to explode.

“I can’t.” Guilt washed over me even though the damn kiss was so brief it was almost like it never happened. It did though.

It happened and I felt awful. I could still see Luc in my mind and now I could hear the last words he said to me like he was right in front of me screaming them.

“It is real for me.”That was what he’d said. That was what he’d said to me and it was what my heart clung on to.

“Amelia.” Sinclaire said my name.

I narrowed my eyes at him. He’d never called me by first name before, and it was the strangest thing to hear it because apart from Gigi, only Luc called me that.

It was strange to hear another man call me that, and I felt worse. Like I’d cheated on Luc somehow.

“No. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why? What’s wrong with me?” The hurt on his face made me feel guiltier.

I hated that he thought something was wrong with him. There wasn’t anything.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you.”

“Right, it’s just that I’m not him, right?” Now he looked pissed. “I’m not Luc, the mobster.”

I opened my mouth to answer but couldn’t.

I had to get away, so I ran, never stopping even when he called after me.

I got to my car and sped away home. My refuge.

What was wrong with me? That was the question. Sinclaire was a good man. How many times did I have to tell myself that?

He was gorgeous, did everything by the book, and cared deeply for me.

What more did I want? What more could I want?

Luc.

Tears rolled down my cheeks at the instant defeat that gripped me.