Page 98 of Goldflame
A ghost of a smile touches her lips. “Julian managed to stay away from me for ten years.”
“That’s the one area he’s always had greater self-discipline. I, however, found myself… unable to maintain my distance. After we separated, I still needed to ensure your safety.”
“Why?” she demands, stepping closer. “Why care so much about my safety when I clearly wasn’t a priority to you during our relationship? You were cold, distant, controlling?—”
“Because I couldn’t allow myself to show what I truly felt. Every moment of genuine emotion risked exposing the entire arrangement. If my father had suspected I actually cared for you, you would have immediately become a target. A weakness to exploit.”
“So you held back. For ten years.”
“Yes.”
She studies me, her gaze penetrating. “And now? What’s holding you back now?”
The question strips away my remaining defenses. What is holding me back? Pride? Fear? The ingrained habits of a lifetime spent controlling every outward expression of vulnerability?
“I don’t know how to be different,” I confess. “I’m not certain I can simply discard those patterns.”
“Try,” she says, moving close enough to place a hand on my chest. “For once in your life, Adrian Harrow, just try being honest about what you want.”
Her closeness disrupts my ability to maintain emotional distance. The wall I’ve constructed over decades begins to fracture.
I rest my hands on her waist, my heart thundering. This is uncharted territory and, for once, I’m not entirely sure what to do about it. But I’ll try.
“I want you.” The words emerge with unexpected force. “I have always wanted you. Even knowing you preferred my brother. Even knowing I would never be your first choice.”
She flinches at that, but I continue.
“I watched you with Julian and saw how alive you were in his presence. How your entire being seemed to vibrate at a different frequency when he entered a room. You never looked at me that way. I knew you never would, regardless of how deeply I felt for you.”
“Adrian—”
“You asked for honesty,” I remind her. “This is it. I love you, Aurelia. I’ve loved you since before I can remember. I loved you throughout our entire relationship,even while maintaining the necessary distance to keep you safe. I loved you after you left me. And I love you now, despite knowing that part of your heart will always belong to my brother.”
The confession leaves me hollow and exposed, more vulnerable than I’ve allowed myself to be since early childhood. I wait, bracing for the inevitable rejection, the gentle let-down, the pitying smile.
Instead, she reaches for me, her hand coming to rest against my cheek. The unexpected contact sends electricity through my system, short-circuiting everything.
“You idiot,” she says softly. “All this time, and you never once thought that maybe I needed to see that side of you? That I might have responded differently if you’d shown me even a tiny bit of what you felt?”
Her words create a cascade of alternate possibilities—timelines where I made different choices, where I risked more, where I trusted her with the truth.
Suddenly, the remaining distance between us is too great. I lean down to press our mouths together, closing the gap I left open for too many years.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
AURELIA
Adrian’s lips crash against mine, and it’s like that first gasp of air after being underwater for too long—painful and relieving all at once. His hands cup my face, and I’m drowning in his touch, his scent, his confession.
I love you, Aurelia.
The words echo, pulsating between disbelief and desperate need. How many nights did I lie beside this man, craving exactly this? How many times did I search his cold, distant eyes for even a glimmer of the emotion he’s just shown?
I kiss him back with all the fury and longing that’s been building inside me. Ten years. Ten years of misunderstanding, of loneliness disguised as companionship. His confession isn’t just words; it’s a key unlocking a door I thought would forever remain closed.
The heat builds between us. My fingers tangle in his hair, feeling its softness, confirming he’s real and here andmine. His hands move from my face to my hips,pulling me closer until there’s not even air between us. We’re pressed together, heartbeat to heartbeat.
I don’t know if I’m crying or laughing or both. So much time wasted. So much hurt that could have been avoided if either of us had found the courage to speak up.
