Lamine had never intended to feel anything.
Respect, yes. Loyalty, always. But emotion—especially the kind that hollowed out the chest and made breathing feel like work—had no place in business.
Yet that was exactly what Elena had awakened in him.
And when he realized it, it was already too late.
He watched her from across the courtyard that morning—the way she smiled now, the ease in her movements, the way Luca’s name rested naturally on her tongue. There was no confusion left in her. No hesitation.
She had chosen her husband.
And Lamine felt played.
She found him later, hoping—foolishly—that distance hadn’t caused damage.
“Lamine,” she said gently. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
He turned, eyes sharp with something she hadn’t seen before.
“Was any of it real?” he asked.
Elena stif
