Amtier’s vie
She had tried and she had shouted, and she had dann pesivihing in betwn to raise a hell, just to stop him. And at the and cracked as she pleaded with him, her words taw and desperate. “Pleste, La, don’t go. Don’t leave me here alone while they tear us apart, the
though her pain might finally matter in him. Her eyes, red and begged, clutching at his sleeve as though her grip might keep him there,
swollen, searched his face for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of love that would keep him by her side.
But Latca’s gaze softened with the kind of sadness that seemed miles away weariness that Amber could fest ever through her rage. He reached down, pulling her hands from his sleeve and clasping them in hiswn as he knelt before her. “Amber, amore, listen to me.” His voice was low and earnest, yet it felt rehearsed, practiced. “I know… I know what you’re feeling. I know they’ve made things unbearable for you. And I know I haven’t protected you the way I should have.”
Amber swallowed, struggling to steady her breath as he continued, each werd stinging more than the last. “When I married you instead of Carlotta, it was a shock to them–to their pride, their traditions, even the business,” he said, a small, pained smile tugging at his mouth as though he was sharing some tragic joke she would never understand. “And how they’re striking back, trying to punish me, punish us. It’s ego. tesoro. I understand you’re hurting, but…” He took a breath, his hands squeezing hers as though that might soften the words he was about to say. “They’re still my family, I can’t just walk away from them.”
His gaze fell to her tear–streaked face, and he brushed a thumb across her cheek with the gentleness that used to make her heart skip. “Be angry, Amber. Be mad at me. You have every right,” he murmured, almost as if he was pleading with her. “Because I know I’m doing an injustice to you, just as I did to them.”
A wave of exhaustion washed over her, mingling with the bitter taste of betrayal in her mouth. His words were there, filling the space between them, but all she felt was the empty silence where her trust in him had once been. Luca reached down, his hand moving tenderly to her swollen belly. “I made this mess, Amber, and I need to clean it up,” he whispered, his voice filled with a certainty that was as cold as it was painful. He pressed his hand gently against her, as though promising something neither of them believed. “When our baby is born, I promise… everything will be all right.”
But as she looked into his eyes, seeing the resolve that had nothing to do with her, Amber knew that he was already slipping away, and nothing would ever truly be all right.
After Luca had stormed off, leaving her too exhausted and hollow to fight anymore, Amber collapsed on the couch, drained of every ounce of resistance. She drifted into a restless sleep, a reprieve from the ache that gnawed at her heart. But her rest was short–lived. Hours later, he was back, creeping in with the same easy smile he always wore, as if nothing had changed, as if her screams and sobs hadn’t left her on the edge of
breaking.
He kissed her forehead, his touch warm. Amber had to fight the urge to scream all over again, to yell that he couldn’t just come back and pretend everything was fine. But she swallowed her rage, knowing somehow, painfully, that it would make no difference. Nothing she said or did seemed to change anything.
“Have you had dinner?” he asked, rolling up his shirt sleeves as if he were settling in for a cozy evening.
“Not hungry,” she muttered, eyes shut tight, hoping her dismissal might push him away. She didn’t want to see that hopeful look in his eyes, the one that made her feel guilty for her anger. All she wanted was for him to leave her alone, to let her hold onto her anger without him `chipping away at it with another empty gesture.
But he didn’t leave. After a lingering pause, Luca quietly rose from the couch and left the room. Amber thought maybe he’d finally listened, that maybe he was retreating to let her be. But moments later, she heard his voice murmuring on the phone in the hallway, calling up restaurants across town. A faint glimmer of old memories washed over her how he’d done this once before, years ago, to coax her to eat when she’d lost her appetite. Back then, it had felt like love. Now, it felt like an act.
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Chapter 124
A parade of delivery men arrived at the dont, carrying bags upon bags of fatal: fragrant mution bizoni, creanty French nabin samıp, platus ut Kushi, pizzay, wast, and pasta un entire feast that seemed to fill every inch of the dining table. Luca tueled himself, unwrapping duches, spreading out bowls, arranging plates, filling the room m with the tantalizing scents of spices, herbs, and flavors from around the world, it was enough food to feed a crowd, yet he placed it all in front of her, hoping sld be tempted.
When he finally looked at her, his eyes wore filled with that familiar, frustrating hope, a silent plea that she’d take a bite and ease his worry. Amber could feel his gaze on her, the softness in his eyes, the determination to fix things in his own way. For his peace of mind, not hers.
But all she could feel was the ache of betrayal twisting in her stomach, niking it impossible to even think of eating.
And he was once again looking at her like that, now. Along with another ir of identical eyes of Nico following her around. Begging her to taste something.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
