His hand stopped her in her tracks.
“Let me go,” she whispered, her head turned from him.
“I can’t.” His words were tortured, husky with pain. “Please. I’m asking for one more chance to prove to you—”
“Prove to me what?” She turned back and glared at him. “Prove to me your cynicism runs so deep I can’t ever overcome it?”
“Darcy—”
“Prove to me your mistrust will always mean I’ll be under the microscope?”
“I will—”
“Prove to me you don’t and never will believe in love?”
The last word ricocheted between them. His gaze burned with…She couldn’t tell. Didn’t want to know. She simply wanted to leave, huddle somewhere alone, and lick her wounds. But his hand tightened around her, holding her in place.
“I was twenty-one.”
She watched the words come from his mouth. His grim, tight mouth. Held her breath, waiting for what was next.
“I fell in love.”
A gasp did escape her at this confession. It seemed to be enough for him to realize he had her attention. His hand dropped, he paced two steps past her, leaned his shoulder on the brick wall and gazed at the street. “Juliana was the daughter of a wealthy family. I thought she was in love with me, too. Yet when the time came, she went another way.”
“What do you mean?” She stared at him, watching the flash of emotions cross his face. Damaged pride. Remembered hurt.
“She left me and married another man.”
“I’m sorry.” Her heart melted in spite of her determination to stay distant. “Just like your mother.”
He froze. “I never thought of that.”
Men. Totally clueless in so many ways. Darcy barely restrained herself from going over to him and kissing his pain away.
“The man she married,” his confession kept coming, “was also wealthy and powerful.”
She stood silent, letting him give her the gift of himself. His past. His memories.
His gaze met hers. “Because of that experience, I decided that was what I would aim for. Instead of love.”
“What?”
“Wealth. Power.”
“You certainly succeeded.”
He ignored her wry comment. Tension pulsed from him as if he were about to jump into a firestorm and he didn’t know if he’d survive. “I promised myself I’d never be hurt. I’d amass so much wealth I’d snap my fingers and any woman would be at my side. I’d gather so much power I’d never take second place to anyone ever again.”
“Marcus.”
“I succeeded, as you observed.” His gaze never left hers. “Until a small sprite walked into my life and blew my priorities to pieces.”
His words echoed with blunt truth, but she shook her head, not willing to believe in the forlorn hope pumping inside her. She hurt for him, understood now what had caused him to become a cynic, still her spirit couldn’t take the chance on a man this damaged. He would eventually strike out at her. Eventually tire of her and reject her. And in doing so, cut her heart into tiny bits. “That’s not true. I was only a means to an end.”
His grey eyes narrowed as his mouth turned down. “The end being Matteo’s wedding.”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin, the old anger stirring even as she yearned. “Your plan succeeded, didn’t it? Matt is married. I’m of no use to you anymore.”
“No use.” A dry chuckle came from him. Then his keen gaze landed on her face once more. “However, you’re right about one thing. My brother is married.”
She stared right back at him.
“Your lover is married.”
There it was. The essential misunderstanding between them. One that could never be overcome. She scowled down at the road. A pause of breathless suspense or strain or pressure pulsed between them.
“Why the hell did you let me think such a thing?” His words rumbled through the silence. “Why the hell did you let me think my brother and you were together?”
Her head jerked up. “Let you?” Her laugh was harsh. “I couldn’t stop you from believing what you wanted to believe.”
“Now I know better.”
Her hands folded in front of her. Shock bled into a resigned relief. “Matt told you.”
“Si.”
“You believed him.” Her words were flat. “But not me.”
“Si.” He glanced away. Now it was he not meeting her accusing glare.
“That’s why I don’t want to be with you, Marcus.”
Her hard, cold statement wrenched his gaze back to hers. The turmoil in his eyes knifed into her, yet she had to be strong. She had to survive.