-Seven Years Ago-

After what felt like a near brush with horned death, Dominic needed Clara like he needed a drink: Pronto. As luck would smile upon him, she was right there on the wide terrace at the end of the hallway. Her yellow dress fluttered in the light breeze like the wings of a butterfly. The sun above warmed her tan arms and long legs like melted caramel. She was a goddess of summer, a sprite of the sea. The purest, most addictive drug. He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her back, nuzzling her neck. He had half a mind to carry her down to the boat where they would pick up where they'd left off. "Mmm... I know it hasn't even been a day, but I've missed you," he said with a squeeze. Clara did not respond. Not to his touch, nor with words. "Hey, what's wro..." He trailed off. As she turned around to face him, a wave of arctic water washed over his body.

She knew.

Nothing could have prepared Dominic for the betrayal that shone through the tears in her eyes. She stepped aside, putting an arm's length between them. She didn't have to say the words, they were plainly written on her face.

How could you?

Who could have told her? Her father didn't know yet, and Dominic was doubtful that if Uncle Jimmy did know, he'd say anything to Clara.

"Just harmless fun, am I?" she said, her voice shaking.

Dom's memory wound back to his father's office, and the sound of footsteps he'd heard down the hall. His lips moved, but no sound would come out. He knew it would have looked bad, but this was bad, bad. He could have pushed her over the terrace and she'd have still been less disappointed in him.

Clara angrily swiped at a tear that dared escape her eye. It was a wonder there were no claw marks left on her cheek.

"Clara, no—"

"No, what, Dom? No, you didn't tell your father how I won't be a problem? No, you didn't say that I am just harmless fun?"

"No, I did but I—"

"I can't believe I fell for that! For you!" She covered her face with her palms. When she revealed it, angry red blotches were blossoming in her cheeks.

"It's not what you think—"

She stalked away, pushing his chest away before he could follow.

The hell he was going to let her leave thinking the worst of him.

He ran after her and grabbed her elbow, spinning her around. "It's not what you think," he pleaded, now at the verge of tears, too. He never knew how terrifying it could be to stand at the precipice of losing someone. He released her elbow after a particularly spiteful glare noted his hand was unwelcome there. Clara wouldn't meet his eyes, focusing her anger and sadness on an unfortunate fern nearby. "I said what I did to protect you," he tried, but even he could hear the thud of the words falling flat as if a dead thing had hit the ground.

She let out a bark of disbelief, shaking her head.

"Clara, my father can't think you're in the way of his plans. I had to make it look like you weren't a threat. You don't know what he's capable of," Dom said.

She hugged herself and looked away, but at least she was still there, which meant she was still listening. He took a chance and approached her, lifting her chin up until she had nowhere to look but into his eyes. God, her eyes were spectacular, even when she cried. He hated that he'd made her cry. "Clara, I... I love you," he said, and only then he realized how true it was. He'd known her for so many years, and his love had only grown over time. She used to be little Clara-Mara, and she had grown into this beautiful woman he would take a bullet for.

"There was nothing I could have done about your father. Please believe me. I tried to talk to him, but—"

"My father?" she took a startled step away from him. "What about my father?"

Dom froze. He thought she'd heard the whole conversation.

"Dom," the warning was clear in the dip of her tone. "What about my father?"

He looked down at his palms. There were no cracks left in his knuckles, and he stood there at a loss of what to do with his body, his feelings. With his words. He felt like a wet rag doll. How was he supposed to tell her this? His father would never forgive him. And Clara would never forgive him if he didn't. His choices were crash and burn, or crash and burn. He couldn't look her in the eye. His gaze wandered to her toes. He'd never noticed them before. She had painted them a coral shade, bright in the midday sun.

"They are removing Uncle Jimmy as CEO and from the company on Monday."

Her hand flew up to her chest. She blinked several times. The tears that streaked her face and fell from her chin forgotten, they dried in the summer heat before they hit the ground. Almost as if they'd never existed. If only. Her eyebrows furrowed. "You knew, didn't you? That night at the party, when you argued with your father. You found out, and you were never going to tell me," she said, looking up at him.

"There was nothing I could do."

"You expect me to believe that?" she said, trembling. "If you loved me, you would have done something. If you loved me, you would have told me," she blinked more tears away. So many tears. Far too many.

"Clara, please. I am sorry, I tried—"

"I am, too," she said firmly. "I am sorry for believing for a second that I meant more to you than just another conquest." She laughed a humorless laugh. "I'm so disgusted with myself. Stupid, stupid girl," she slapped her forehead.

Dominic, desperate to get through to her, grabbed both her hands tightly. The words left him in a rush. "Clara, you are not stupid, and you were not a conquest. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I was terrified that this thing that has nothing to do with us will come between us. I wanted to make it right, for you. I am so sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to hurt you and because I was afraid, more than anything, that I would lose you. Believe me when I say this: I love you, Clara. And I know that I will never feel this way about anyone else," he said. "You have to believe me."

Clara was tempted to believe him. She truly, madly wanted what Dominic said to be the truth. But no, people who love you don't keep secrets from you. People who don't, on the other hand, will call you harmless fun behind closed doors and then pretend you mean the world to them. Clara wasn't sure if she wished she'd never heard him, but it was better to overhear the horrible truth than never learn of it at all. She glanced down at their clasped hands, at the hands that she'd thought belonged so well together, and pulled hers away. "I never want to see you again," she said. The venom mixed with a dose of heartbreak like bitter almonds on her tongue.

Dominic thought he'd seen something change in her gaze, and now he knew that to be resignation. That arctic wave that had washed over him earlier was nothing compared to the vacuum that opened like a black hole in his chest.

Clara knew she would spend many nights thinking about Dominic's expression at that moment. He looked for all the world like she'd taken a knife and carved out his heart, but was any of it real? Or was it just a show until she turned away, and he'd wipe his tears and move onto the next conquest? Perhaps that Katie girl with the red bikini. She decided she didn't want to know.

They were so far past the point of no return, all she could do was run fast and never look back. Perhaps someday there would be a lesson to be gained from this, but right now, she needed to go home to her family. To the people that truly loved her. She needed to talk to her father.

As he watched her sundress flutter away in the bright Adriatic, Dominic heard his heart and soul shatter like twin vases thrown down a deep, waterless well. It reverberated through his whole being. He leaned onto the balustrade with his entire weight, barely holding himself up.

What have I done?