Past – September 2014
There’s an ominous feeling in my gut as I step off the elevator and into Marco’s apartment.
We hadn’t planned to see each other tonight, but he called me an hour ago and asked me to meet him at his place, so here I am.
I find Marco sitting on the sofa, clutching a glass of what looks like whiskey.
My brows furrow. “Are you drinking whiskey? You hate whiskey.”
He stares at me, though it seems like he’s looking right through me and tips his head in a single nod.
Something’s wrong.
He’d usually meet me by the door and greet me with a kiss. I’ve never had such a cold reception from him and it has panic rising up in my chest as I take a seat opposite him. I’d sit next to him or on his lap, but considering he can barely fucking look at me, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.
“What happened?”
He takes a swig of his drink before his eyes slide to mine.
I can’t tell what he’s thinking or feeling. He’s completely closed himself off to me.
“I’m bored of this, Sloane. I’m done.” His voice is detached, cold, unfeeling.
“W-what are you talking about?” I stammer, not understanding.
“We had our fun. I got to play with the little Irish princess for a while, and it was okay while it lasted, but it’s time to move on,” he drawls. He casually lifts his arm to the back of the couch, drawing a pattern on the fabric with his finger as though this is his usual, everyday conversation and he’s not fucking ruining me right now.
“I don’t believe you.” There’s no way he can just end us like this, is there? There’s no way that the last six months have been a lie. Except… why would he do this, if it wasn’t?
No. I refuse to believe it. There is no way in hell that this man in front of me is the same man I’ve been seeing for the last six months. My Marco would burn down the Earth just to see me smile. There’s no way he could be so cruel, so heartless.
“What happened? Clearly, something must have happened for you to treat me like this. This isn’t you, Marco. You love me, I know you do,” I say, my voice shaking.
He stares at me, silent for a moment before his cold laughter fills the room and he shakes his head.
“Lie to me,” I whisper.
“You want me to lie to you, little warrior?” The nickname I came to love comes out like acid on his tongue, making me flinch. A sadistic smile fills his face. “Okay… here’s your lie. I love you, Sloane. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my everything, so much so that my world begins and fucking ends with you. I love you, so fucking much.”
My ears ring as I listen to his words. The words I so desperately wanted to hear, but not under these circumstances.
Never these fucking circumstances.
He doesn’t love me.
He never did.
He was using me all along. For what, I have no idea, and I don’t care to find out. I can’t stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks as I climb to my feet.
My heart is in my throat as I stand in front of him, waiting for him to… what? Stop me from leaving? The hard look in his eyes tells me he meant every word he’s said. Not that he loves me, but that it was in fact a lie.
Everything was a lie.
I never should have fucking approached him that night of the gala. He made me fall for him, so damn hard. I gave him my heart and he all but crumbled it in his fist, laughing while he did.
I stumble to the elevator and step inside, not looking back at the man who owns every piece of my soul.
I loved him more than life itself, and he only saw me as a bit of fun to pass the time.
He wasn’t who I thought he was.
My vision blurs as I watch the numbers on the elevator decrease, slowly taking me away from him. My heart pounds, and I swear I can feel the shattered pieces of my heart digging into my chest, making it hard to breathe. Hard to move. Hard to think.
Marco fucking Romano.
That man is dead to me.
I’m half tempted to go back up to his apartment and slide my knife right through his heart, just like he did to me.
But he isn’t worth it.
And no matter how much I tell myself he doesn’t matter; I know it’s a lie.
Despite everything he just said to me, there’s still a part of me that clings to the man he has been the last six months. The man who took care of me, the man who kissed my forehead and whispered sweet nothings in my ear. The man who actually treat me with respect. The man who was my damn lifeline.
But the man I believed him to be was a lie.
It was all a fucking lie.
The time we spent together, the conversations we had, the secrets we shared, all nothing but lies.
Lie to me, Marco.
My whispered words from the night we first spoke play on a loop in my mind and I curse myself for my stupidity. I guess this is my fault as much as it is his. After all, I’m the one who started this game between us. I’m the one who asked him to lie to me, he just took it further than I ever could have imagined.
