She turns and walks up the stairs without looking back, leaving me standing alone in the hallway.
Her words keep repeating themselves in my head.
You don’t own me.
You don’t own me.
You don’t own me.
Of course, I know that, but I wish she could see we have a good thing going here.
Chapter 18 - Gela
I step out of the shower and into my bedroom, wrapped in a towel, and the blast of the AC immediately makes me feel cold. I shiver and get on my toes, dashing across to my closet to get into dry clothes.
Once done, I head to my dresser for the blow-dryer when I hear my phone chime with a text. When I look down, my heart lurches with a mix of feelings—anger, fear, and anticipation.
It’s been four days since our fight, and this is the first text Valentin's sent me. He’s gone off to work before I wake, and returns after I’m in bed.
I keep telling myself I don’t care about the cold shoulder he’s been giving me, not one bit, but my hands shake as I reach for my phone. The truth is, he was way out of line that night, and even though I didn’t give him time to explain, he’s had enough time between then and now to apologize for the way he shut down my plans for the future.
Right?
Was he right? Was I? Were we both wrong? Was it a miscommunication? I shake my head, telling myself to stop thinking about it.
I open the message: Gela, there’s an annual charity gala tonight hosted at the Meridian Hotel by the Smirnovs. It’s good for the whole family to be present. The event starts at 8 PM.
For a second there, I glower at his audacity. I don’t see any “please,” “thank you,” or “would you please do this huge favor.” Just who does he think he is? I have half a mind to text back, giving him a solid no for an answer, but then the selfish part of me remembers how tough the past four days have been.
When I’m alone, my mind keeps reliving our fight, and honestly, going out might help clear my head.
I text him back: Fine.
He doesn’t reply.
I toss the phone onto my bed and pull open my closet door with more force than necessary. What does one wear to a Bratva charity event, anyway? Black, probably. Everything in this family is black.
I stare at my clothes, but nothing seems right for whatever this gala is. And if I'm being honest with myself, I want to look good tonight. I tell myself it’s for me, and not for Valentin, but even then, the idea of making him eat his heart out fills me with an odd satisfaction.
And that satisfaction drops a sliver of the truth right into my stomach. I miss him and his stupid smirk and the way his eyes crinkle. I even miss our arguments, because at least then, he was talking to me.
Stop it, Gela. I shake my head clear. I’m just bored and mistaking it for something else.
Suddenly, the idea of spending the rest of the day alone feels terribly harrowing. I grab my phone again, and before I can talk myself out of it, I call Nadya.
“Gela!” Her voice is cheery as hell, like she’s genuinely glad to hear from me. “How’s it going?”
“Hey.” I try to sound casual, remembering that I’m talking to Valentin’s sister, for god’s sake. “I just got a text about some gala tonight? At the Meridian?”
“Oh god, did Val just text you that today? That man is so last-minute, I swear...” She sighs dramatically. “Yeah, it’s anannual charity thing. Big donors, fancy dresses, boring speeches. Hold on—I'm adding Darya.”
There's a click, and then Darya's voice joins the call. “Hello?”
“Darya! It's Gela and me. She’s coming to the Gala tonight!”
“Oh my god, you are? How exciting!” Darya squeals.
I grin at their infectious enthusiasm and no longer feel so alone.
