Cassie walked out on me. She walked out on our marriage.

That was three weeks ago, after I told her the truth about the baby.

I tried to stop her ... tried to convince her that she was making a mistake. But she left anyway, and believe it or not, I helped her. I didn’t want my pregnant wife dragging two suitcases around, so I carried her luggage to the car.

Before Cassie drove away, she ordered me to cancel the marriage announcement. I thought about going forward with it anyway, so she’d be forced to return to the safety and security of our cottage. But then I realized that would make things even worse and likely destroy any hope of saving my marriage.

That hope diminishes every day. I haven’t seen or talked to my wife since she left me.

She ignores my calls and my texts and refuses to open the door when I show up at her apartment. That’s the only time I leave the cottage. I’ve been holed up here, wallowing in my own misery, to quote Leo.

I told my brother everything. I told him what happened in the folly and how I found out I was going to be a father.

I expected his censure for keeping the baby’s paternity a secret, but he didn’t judge me. In fact, he said he would’ve done the same thing in my position. That surprised me because we rarely handle things the same way.

Thanks to Leo, I know Cassie and the baby are doing well, physically at least. My brother willingly funnels information from Tessa.

My sister-in-law is so upset with me she won’t talk to me directly, and I don’t blame her. If she’d hurt my brother the way I hurt her sister, I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with her either. 

I messed up with Cassie, and I don’t know how to fix things. I knew she’d be angry when I told her the truth, but I never imagined—not even in my worst nightmares—that she’d think I lied about my feelings for her.

When I’m sober, I see things from Cassie’s point of view. I can understand why she jumped to the erroneous conclusion that I married her because she’s pregnant.

But when I’m drunk, fury engulfs me, and I end up breaking things because I’m broken. Cassie broke me.

How could she believe I was pretending the whole time? No one is that good an actor, least of all me. I’ve never been more real than I was with her.

Since I’m not suffering from a hangover this morning, and it’s been a couple of days since I’ve knocked on Cassie’s door, I decide to make a trip to her apartment. After dressing in a pale gray dress shirt with a subtle diamond pattern, slim-fitting charcoal-colored pants, and my black leather loafers, I grab my wallet and keys and head out the door.

Although the drive from the cottage to Cassie’s apartment takes only ten minutes and I blasted the AC, I’m sweating by the time I arrive. My stomach is twisted like the rope I use to practice my boating knots. 

I let myself into the building with the key she gave me and start the climb to the third floor. As I reach the second-floor landing, I hear footsteps on the stairs above me. I freeze, all the muscles in my body tensing with anticipation and hope. If it’s Cassie, she won’t be able to avoid me. She’ll have to talk to me.

The footsteps are getting closer, and I can tell by tread it’s not her. I’m shocked when the person comes into view—Dannell, the head of Leo’s security detail.

I hear more footsteps. A moment later, my brother appears on the stairs with two guards trailing behind him. When they reach the landing, Leo asks his security team to wait downstairs. Once we’re alone, he moves to stand in front of me.

“Hello, Marco. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“I could say the same about you.” I arch my eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

He exhales softly. “It’s my responsibility as your older brother to watch out for you. To have your back. And you know I always take my responsibilities seriously.”

I barely refrain from rolling my eyes. “I know. I’m very lucky to have you.” I study him suspiciously. “That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

“I’m trying to save your marriage.”

“What?” I ask, sounding as perplexed as I feel.

“I hate seeing you so damn miserable. I know how much you love Cassie, and I thought it might help if I talked to her.”

“You saw her?”

“Yes.” My brother flashes one of his rare smiles. “She’s looking quite pregnant.” He pats me on the shoulder. “Go knock on her door, Marco. I have a feeling she’ll open it this time.”

“What did you say to her?”

“You should ask her.” He surprises me by pulling me into a hug and thumping me on the back. “I want my niece to grow up in a loving home with two blissfully happy parents.”

My breath catches in my throat. “I want that too. More than anything.”

He ends our hug and gives me a none-too-gentle shove toward the stairs. “Go make up with your wife.”

“Thank you, Leo.”

“You’d do the same for me.”

He starts down the stairs, a little too fast for my comfort. “Try not to trip and break your neck,” I call out. “I don’t want to rule Alsania.”

Leo’s deep laughter floats up the stairwell. The sound brings a smile to my lips, but it fades into a frown the closer I get to Cassie’s door.

What if Leo was wrong? What if she turns me away yet again? What if she refuses to give me another chance?

A voice inside me speaks up: What if you stop being a pussy?

Taking a deep breath, I knock on the wood door. I’m so anxious my lips are numb.

Forty-three seconds pass before the door opens (yes, I counted). Cassie is standing there, her face impassive. I can’t tell if she’s happy to see me ... or not.

“Hello,” I say, wincing at how rough my voice sounds.

“Come in,” she replies in lieu of a greeting.

She turns, and as she walks away, her black ankle boots thump on the hardwood floors. I’m so wound up, each step seems to echo inside my head like the boom of a cannon.

After shutting the door behind me, I follow her into the apartment. I recognize the furniture, so she obviously moved it out of the storage unit she leased when we got married.

She moves toward the armchair and rests her hand on the back of it. “You just missed your brother.”

“I ran into him on the stairs.” 

Stopping a couple of feet in front of her, I trail my gaze over her. She looks quite pregnant, as Leo put it, and far more beautiful than I remember. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and she’s wearing black leggings and a long-sleeved top the color of ripe plums with a deep V that shows off her creamy cleavage.

I want to reach out and touch her so badly my hands are shaking. I clench them into fists to stop myself from tracing the arch of her eyebrows, the pout of her lips, and the swell of her belly. 

I’ve had weeks to think about what I want to say to her, weeks to rehearse so I don’t sound like an idiot. But I can’t remember any of it now.

“I miss you,” I blurt out. “Please come home.”

She stares at me for several seconds, her eyes steady on mine. She opens her mouth, and I’m so afraid of what she’s going to say, I rush to her and clutch her smaller body to mine.

I press my lips to the top of her head. “I’m miserable without you. Please come home.”

She says something, but I can’t hear it because her face is trapped against my chest. Nuzzling my nose into her hair, I breathe in her sweet scent.

“I’m so sorry. I know I screwed up. I know I should’ve told you that I was the guy in the wolf mask. Forgive me. I love you so fucking much, Cassie. Come home, and I’ll prove it to you every day.”

Her palms press firmly against my chest, just over my pecs. Reluctantly, I loosen my arms and take a step back.

She looks up at me and nods imperceptibly. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

Her lips quirk. “Okay, I’ll come home.”

Shock makes my mouth fall open. “You will?”

“Yes.”

Wrapping my arms around her, I say, “Promise you’ll never leave me again.”

“I promise I’ll never leave you again. I’ve been miserable without you too.” She strokes my cheek with her fingertips. “I just couldn’t stay with you, knowing you only married me because of the baby.”

I shake my head. “But that’s—”

She presses her fingers to my lips. “I know. Leo told me.”

Circling her wrist, I pull her fingers away from my mouth. “What exactly did he tell you?” I ask warily.

“That you loved me.”

“I told you that,” I point out indignantly. “You had to hear it from my brother to believe it?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because you told him that you were in love with me before you knew who fathered my baby.” She bites her plump bottom lip before releasing it with a swipe of her tongue. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were the guy in the wolf mask?”

Taking her hand, I guide her to the sofa. After sitting down, I pull her onto my lap and loop my arms around her.

“That night, by the lake, when I first found out, I almost said something then. But I held back because I was afraid of your reaction—that you’d think I was the worst possible father for your baby. I was afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Marco.” She sighs my name. “What about later? Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“I didn’t want you to think I proposed because of the baby, and I didn’t want you to accept because you felt obligated. I wanted you to marry me because you loved me and wanted to be my wife. And after the wedding, I kept putting it off because I didn’t want to ruin things. I was afraid that you’d see that night in the folly as proof that I was irresponsible and reckless. That I was bad husband material. I didn’t want you to regret marrying me.”

I slip my hand under her top and rest my palm against her smooth, round belly. “Before we had sex in the folly, I hadn’t been with anyone for nearly a year.”

She puts her hand on top of mine and plays with my fingers. “So I ended your dry spell.”

Her word choice makes me laugh. “A dry spell implies an absence of interested sex partners. I was celibate by choice.”

“Why?”

“I was waiting for you.”

Jerking her head toward me, she asks, “Then why did you have sex with me ... with Bumblebee?”

“Because I was angry—”

“Why were you angry? What happened?

“That entire night, I was thinking about you and Zac on vacation in Italy. I was so jealous. I wanted you, but you were with him. I couldn’t stop picturing the two of you together—him fucking you. It made me crazy, so I went for a walk, hoping to clear my head. That’s when I ran into you ... Bumblebee.”

“So you had sex with a stranger because you were jealous?”

“Yes. No.” I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tight muscles. “I wasn’t looking for an anonymous hookup if that’s what you’re asking. Bumblebee reminded me of you—your voice, your wit, your body, even your smell. I wanted you, but I couldn’t have you, so I had sex with her instead.”

She’s silent for a long time. Finally, she says, “I’ve been in pain—”

Alarmed, I weave my fingers into her hair and gently tug her head back so I can see her face. Her eyes are shiny, like she’s about to cry.

“What kind of pain? How long has it been going on? Have you talked to Dr. Schiff about it?”

“Emotional pain, Marco. I have so many unanswered questions about my parents, and it hurt so much to know that my child was going to suffer the same fate. From the moment I saw those two little lines on the pregnancy test, I’ve been in pain every second of every day, thinking about all the questions she’d ask that I wouldn’t be able to answer. And then, when she got older, having to explain the circumstances of her conception. You could’ve spared me that pain if you’d told me the truth.”

“I’m so sorry, Cassie.” Knowing how much pain I caused the woman I love makes my throat ache and my eyes burn with tears. “I was a selfish prick, thinking only about myself.”

“If you’d told me the truth, you could’ve spared me that pain. But ultimately, I think the truth would’ve hurt me even more.”

I shake my head, more confused than I’ve ever been. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“What you did—not telling me that you were Wolf—it was wrong.”

“I know. I know it was.”

“It was wrong, but you made the right decision, Marco. If you’d told me the truth, we wouldn’t be sitting here today. I have no doubt of that. I wouldn’t have given us a chance, and I would’ve missed out on so much. I would’ve missed out on you. And that would’ve been the worst thing that could’ve happened.”

I clear my throat. “I love you, bellezzina.”

“I love you too.” She shifts on my lap, and my Cassie-deprived cock notices. “I want to announce our marriage as soon as possible.”

I press my mouth against hers. “That can be arranged,” I murmur against her lips.

She wiggles around until she’s straddling me. There’s no way she could miss my hard-on now. It’s almost poking a hole through my pants.

“I wonder what the paparazzi will call you once they hear about our marriage? The Playboy Prince no longer applies.”

A grimace contorts my face. “I’m sure it’ll be something awful, like the Smitten Prince.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “It has to be an alliteration.”

We sit in silence for a few seconds, both of us pondering the possibilities. Suddenly, she giggles and covers her mouth with her hand.

“What?” I ask. “Did you think of one?”

She nods but doesn’t share.

“Tell me.”

Eyes wide, she shakes her head.

“Come on,” I cajole. “I want to hear it.”

“The Pussy-whipped Prince,” she squeaks out before throwing back her head and guffawing. 

I laugh until my stomach aches. Regaining my breath, I say, “That’s incredibly offensive, yet astoundingly accurate.”

“What about the Perfect Prince?”

“I’m not perfect,” I reply, sounding humble but preening on the inside.

She laughs. “Trust me, I know.” She widens her legs and grinds against my erection, drawing a moan from my throat. “But you’re perfect for me.”