In her mind they were done. Dead. Over.

Not by her choice. It had never been her choice.

The limousine dropped them in front of an exclusive Dallas restaurant, a restaurant requiring membership, and a critical screen before a member could be accepted.

The restaurant entrance was so discreet it looked like a warehouse entrance. However, Bryn found that behind the plain concrete walls and studded steel door, the restaurant walls had been painted in gleaming shades of blue and gold and the gold-leafed ceiling glittered with dozens of extravagant crystal chandeliers.

“Hungry?” Kahlil asked, his hand resting on the small of her back.

She felt every muscle in her tighten, her body snapping to response and Bryn jerked away from him, shocked by her sensitivity. She shouldn’t still feel this way. She shouldn’t still feel anything. “No.”

The maître d’ murmured polite greetings, ushering them to a curtained booth. The heavy drapes could be closed, making the table more intimate, if required.

Seated, Bryn’s gaze darted to the thick purple drapes, praying they’d remain open, tied back with the gold tasseled ropes. Kahlil ordered drinks for them, and an appetizer. Her hands shook beneath the table. She struggled to breathe normally.

“Smile,” he said, leaning back against the plush seat upholstery. “You look like you’re being tortured.”

“I am being tortured. This is torture.”

“How far we’ve come,” he mocked, dark head tipping, black lashes lowering as he studied her grim expression. “Once you would have died for me.”

I almost died living with you.

But she didn’t say it. He knew nothing about her last night in Tiva, or her friendship with his cousin, a friendship that proved to be a terrible, nearly tragic mistake. “You can’t take over my life, Kahlil. It’s been three years, three and a half years, since we were together. I’ve changed—”

“Yes, you’ve grown rebellious.”

“I’ve just grown up. I won’t take orders from you anymore.”

“I never had to order you to do anything. You did everything for me,” and his accented voice caressed the word everything, “eagerly.”

Her stomach clenched. She wouldn’t think about the past, wouldn’t think about their old relationship. “Kahlil, I want a divorce and I am going to file for one first thing in the morning. Stan knows an excellent lawyer and he and I will be married eventually.”

Kahlil made a rude sound, deep in his throat. “I hope your Stan is a patient man because he’s going to be kept waiting a very long time. I’ll tie you up with every legality I can. You name it, I’ll do it.”

She stared at him as though he were the devil himself. “Why? What have I ever done to you?”

His golden gaze raked her bare shoulders and simple black dress. “You broke your word.”

So that was it. This was just about revenge.