been like breathing, a way to survive but also a way to purge the emotions roiling inside him. He hadn’t felt so furious, so helpless in eons. Until now.
“You are being ridiculous,” he snapped. “I haven’t changed or done anything different. All I’ve done is let you in. You’ve seen my home, my skin. I trusted you. And this is what you think of me, that I’ll poison you with my presence?”
“I do not think you will poison me. It’s that I’ll come to see the poison as normal. I will accept it, drink it willingly.”
“You’re saying I will corrupt you.”
“Yes. I’ve already made compromises since meeting you. How far am I willing to go?” She pressed her lips together. “I cannot do it. I cannot turn my back on everything I believe, everything I am, merely because you make things easier for me.”
He didn’t know what to say. Using words to get what he wanted was his specialty, yet his attempts to convince her were failing. It was like being tossed over the side of a cliff and trying to hang on by one’s fingernails. Desperation and panic were beginning to set in. “We are good together. Tell me, are you so eager to throw that away, too?”
Hurt flashed across her face and he almost took the words back. Instead, he fell silent and let her think about what walking out meant.
It meant no more bowling or afternoons on Bond Street.
It meant no more kisses or carriage rides.
It meant no more laughing or fucking or just breathing together.
And if she took all that away, he’d never be the same.
“Jack,” she said on a sigh, as if she might reconsider.
Hopeful, he came closer, slowly, determined to press his case one last time. Before she decided, she had to understand how he felt about her. “Justine, I’ve never met anyone like you. There’s never been another woman in my life, not in this way. Not someone I cared for and trusted as I do you. Who knows what would have happened after my injury if you hadn’t looked after me? This isn’t all one-sided. I feel just as off-balance and unsure of myself around you. But, I don’t want to give you up. Please, cara, do not leave me.”
She sucked in a ragged breath and he could see the moisture gathering in her eyes.
“I don’t wish to make you cry,” he whispered and dragged his knuckles over the tender skin covering her jaw. “Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi.”
Sniffing, she put a hand to her mouth. “Do not say that.”
“It’s true. I cannot live without you.” A fat tear rolled down her cheek, the effect like a punch to his stomach. “You are killing me. Say you’ll stay.”
Silence stretched. He couldn’t read her expression and his anxiety mounted. Noise from the club below echoed, the familiar sounds of his life usually reassuring. Now they only served to accentuate the quiet in this room, the momentous decision being made outside of his control.
After what seemed like a decade, she shifted to cup his cheek in her palm. “I cannot. This is not my world—it’s yours. And I do not like who I am becoming by remaining in it. Thank you for everything you’ve done, for every minute we have spent together. I’ll never forget you.”
The words knocked the air from his lungs, the pain so swift, so sharp that his knees nearly buckled. It was like a thousand tiny razor cuts to the inside of his chest. But he would not show weakness. He already begged once. He would not beg further—not today, not ever—and he was done trying to prevent the inevitable.
You should have seen this coming. You should have prepared for this.
Yes, he should have. He was Jack fucking Mulligan. He was never vulnerable. Anger rose within him like a beast, feral and fierce, clawing, ready to lash out.
But he would not let it break free. Not yet.
He took a step back and her arm dropped to her side. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he said, “That’s a shame because I’ll do everything in my power to forget about you.”
Her bottom lip quivered as more tears gathered in her eyes, and she spun toward the door. Flinging it open, she lunged into the corridor and he could hear her skirts rustling as she ran away from him.
You made her cry. You hurt her, you monster.
Fuck his conscience. This was his world, as she’d said, and he’d say and