Two years have gone by—what did I expect her to do?

Join a fuckin’ convent and pine away for the man that left her hanging.

I figured out that she must have got my number wrong or lost her phone and that she probably didn’t turn up in Costa because she couldn’t. So as far as she knew, I ran out on her that morning and I never had any intention of turning up at our meeting. She owed me nothing.

Considering the circumstances, I can’t expect anything more from her, but hell with her admission. She pulled my heart out and cut me off at the knees. My head is ringing, my tongue is thick in my mouth, and I feel totally fucked. The hurt is incredible.

Sick to my stomach, I stare at her slumped shoulders.

No. No. I cannot accept that she belongs to someone else. No.

I lay my hand on her shoulder and she jumps. I turn her around slowly to face me. Unable to look into my eyes, she covers her face with her hands.

I pry her hands away and look into her eyes. She loves me. I’m her man. She is mine. Not his. I claimed her two years ago and it was only a cruel twist of fate that parted us. I’m not giving her up to anyone. She belongs to me.

I’ve just possessed her again.

Whatever she has with him cannot be worth a damn if she came so easily with me. I don’t care who he is or what’s happened between them. I’ll win her back. This girl is mine. She is my virgin. Nobody else’s. Forever. I marked her, and I won’t rest until she is wearing my ring.

I keep my voice gentle. “Tell me, are things as good between the two of you as they are with us? Does he make you scream? Do you get wet just because you’re in the same room as him? See this thing between us right now. This need. This passion. Is that what you have with him? Would he look for you for two fucking years and never stop hoping, never give up searching for you in the back of every blonde head he sees?”

She pauses, her eyes pained. “What I have with him is different, but … it’s good too.”

“I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t have come with me otherwise,” I mutter.

“I came with you because you were, we were, unfinished business. Now it’s finished.”

“Oh yeah? Want me to show you how unfinished it is?”

She lifts her chin. She looks beautiful, even radiant, but looks can deceive. “Everything is not about sex.”

“No, but it’s a terrible indictment on what you have with him if you can’t even resist a bit of sex from an old lover.”

She turns away from me. “You won’t understand. Please believe me that I’m not the girl I was before. Everything has changed. I don’t want you. I have a good life. Please, let me go and don’t try to find me. Please leave me alone. If not for yourself, for my sake. Please. You don’t know what it means to me.”

She’s on the verge of tears. Christ almighty, she’s afraid of him. Why is she afraid? Every protective instinct I possess rears up and roars. I have to keep her safe. She should only ever be happy and laughing.

I reach out, touch her shoulders, and turn her to me when she doesn’t pull away. Sure enough, her eyes are red and watery. Whatever she is battling with is killing her. I wish she would trust me enough to tell me. I’d go to the ends of the earth for her. I need her to know she can trust me. It’s about more than just me now. There’s something happening to her, and I can’t let her go without knowing what it is.

“Talk to me,” I whisper. “I have to know what’s happened to you. Why are you afraid? You know you can trust me, right?”

Her eyes dart back and forth, all over my face. Searching. Wondering if she is making a mistake. Can she trust me? She wants to—I can feel it in my bones. She wants to trust somebody. How long has it been since she’s been able to trust a man? A steel hand clenches around my heart when I think about what she might have gone through while I wasn’t around.

Her mouth opens, then closes. She bites her lip. I won’t push her—I know enough about calming spooked animals to know that a push right now could close her off forever. I just rest my hands on her shoulders, reminding her that she has access to my strength and she’s safe. The rest is up to her.

When she opens her mouth again, she doesn’t close it on nothing. “I’m not just with any man,” she whispers. “The man I’m involved with is Tony Jackson. Do you recognize the name?”

Tony Jackson. Where have I heard the name before? A stray newspaper headline flies past my mind’s eye. A photo of a psychopath smirking outside a courtroom after he got off on a technicality. Fuck, she didn’t get involved with a lowlife gangster?

I try to hide my disbelief. I’m losing my damn mind here. Why would she be with anybody like him? Such a sweet, beautiful, perfect thing like her. How far has she fallen? If I needed any further proof that we belong together this is it. “I’ve heard of him,” I say tentatively.

“You’ve heard of him, or of what he’s done?”

“I know he’s not a good guy, Izzy.”

“He’s a … gangster,” she whispers, her brow creasing like she can hardly get the word out. I can only imagine how hard she must have worked at telling herself he’s really a good man, a man who’s misunderstood.

“Didn’t he get off on a technicality?”

She shakes her head. “No, he got off. I mean, there wasn’t any real evidence …”

“A gangster, Izzy?” I say, my hand dropping from her shoulders. “How could you get involved with a man like that?”

Her chin trembles. “Don’t you dare judge me, Tyson.”

“And you’re fighting me over him? Somebody like that, who can’t give you anything real? When I want to give you everything.”

“It’s not just my feelings that are involved, Tyson,” she cries, pointing to her chest. “It’s not just … he’s … oh, God.” Her legs fold up and she lands on the edge of the bed. “Oh, Tyson, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”