She paused, realization creeping across her face. “You think I made it worse?”
Titus didn’t answer. His jaw locked, breath pressing tight in his chest. He should look away, shouldturn this moment into nothing more than another tactical move. But for a split second, he couldn’t. He watched the realization settle in her eyes, saw the way her shoulders squared as if bracing for the final blow. And then, he steadied the storm inside him before it could crack through his voice.
Her voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “You think I was bait.”
“I know you were.” His voice was steady, but the taut edge remained. “And now, Ihave to fix this before it gets worse.”
The frustration in her eyes wavered, tangled with hurt, as if she was trying to understand how he could be so cold. “That’s what this is to you? Just something to fix?” she asked her voice unsteady, but edged with raw emotion.
“That’s exactly what this is.”
Titus forced his emotions into a tight, boxed-in space. The rage remained, simmering beneath his skin, but it wasn’t just rage—it was something deeper, something heavier.Betrayal. Frustration. The bitter edge of regret he refused toname.
He couldn’t afford to let any of it show, couldn’t afford to give her even a glimpse of the war raging inside him. He ran a hand over his face, then straightened, stepping toward her. Distance was the only thing keeping him from making a mistake. Amistake he couldn’t afford. And yet, he couldn’t resist pulling her into hisarms.
Jazz flung herself into his hold. He saw the flicker of something in her eyes—hope, hesitation—but he needed to shut down her emotions before they could grow. This wasn’t the moment for comfort, and he couldn’t let her believe itwas.
Even so, for an instant something flared between them. Aspark, hot and untamed, as real as the Dante Brand burned into their palms. He felt it, deep and undeniable, but he couldn’t acknowledge it. Couldn’t give it substance. If he did, if he let himself surrender to the pull of it, in the force tethering them together, she would never leave. And shehadto leave.
Her breath hitched, her lips parting as if she could feel it too—this pull, this force neither of them could deny. His grip tightened involuntarily, his thumb brushing over her skin, memorizing the warmth of her, the softness. It would be so easy. Tooeasy.
He could take her again. Right here. Right now. And she would let him. She wouldn’t stop him. She’d press closer, tilt her head just enough for his mouth to claim hers, just like before. The thought sent something dark twisting through his chest, desire laced with frustration, with regret.
Because this wasn’t a reunion. It wasn’t salvation. It was a goodbye in disguise.
That was the problem.
Titus pulled back abruptly, severing whatever had just passed between them. He turned, reached for his phone, and without looking at her, he said, “Call your lawyer.”
Jazz stiffened. “What?”
“Call. Your. Lawyer.” His voice left no roomfor argument.
She shook her head, confusion flickering across her face. “Why?”
He looked up, his gaze locking onto hers, unreadable and unwavering. “Because I need access to your inheritance.”
Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening in the shredded fabric of her dress, as though it could shield her from the barrage of emotions threatening to pull them both under. Titus saw it—the way she pulled the fabric tighter, her knuckles whitening, the way she hugged herself, as if she could make herself smaller. She crouched before him. Vulnerable. Exposed.
And it gutted him.
He forced his expression to stay cold, but inside, something twisted so violently it made him feel unsteady. He had hurt her—he could see it, could feel it like a physical thing in the space between them. And yet, he had no choice. If she didn’t leave now, she’d be in even greater danger. This was the only way to keep her safe, even if it meant making her hatehim to doit.
His chest tightened, but he didn’t let himself soften. He couldn’t afford to. Not now. “You… knew? You knew Poppy passed our grandfather’s inheritance to me? That it wasn’t going to charity?”
The words came out uneven, barely a whisper, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer. She searched his face, looking for something—anything—that would soften the blow. But there was nothing. Just the same unreadable expression, the same unwavering stare that made her feel like the earth beneath her was crumbling.
“Of course, I knew.”
Her world tilted. “How long?”
“Long enough to know I need it. And that you’ll give it to me. Now call your lawyer and have him transfer the money into this account.” He handed her a slip of paper. “Do it now.”
Silence crashed between them, thick and heavy, pressing in like an invisible force. The air in the room felt colder now, as if all the warmth from before had been stolen away. The importance of unspoken wordssettled between them, thick with everything they weren’t saying—everything he wouldn’t let himselfsay.
Jazz’s lips parted, but no words came out. Then, finally, she forced out, “How is this any better than what my father did to me?”
His answer was brutal. Unforgiving. “Your father wanted to use you. I’m protecting you.”
