Of course he hadn’t meant to hurt me. The man had already confessed he’d burn down the city and kill anyone who touched me. I knew it in my mind, but my heart was a little off, a little distanced from the moment. I squeezed my eyes shut, uncertain how to react or what to say. At least I could breathe again.
When I managed to find the courage, I lifted my head, stretching my neck. With my entire body still shaking, I pressed my fingers against my throat, wincing as soon as I did. I’d often been told I had tender skin, capable of bruising easily.
That had been tested when Damien had punched me in the face. I looked a mess. By the next morning, I’d had a shiner that could compete with a boxer.
What in the hell had I gotten myself involved in? Maybe I should have fought my way out the door. This wasn’t the life I’d wanted. None of it.
The price of fame had been too high. I’d lost too much of myself.
But the girl inside, the one who’d dreamt about a house full of kids, a couple of dogs, and a loving husband had seen a glimmer of hope.
Even with a man I should fear.
I studied my reflection and tried to figure out what I should do. Sasha had shut down. I could easily tell that. Whatever he’d been dreaming, I had a feeling he wasn’t used to it. But the nightmare involved his past. I was certain of it. I was no psychologist, but the events of earlier in the day had brought back a tragedy.
The man was a ticking timebomb. If he didn’t talk about what had occurred, one day he’d go too far and hurt someone he cared about. After wringing my hands, I knew that I should just leave him alone and when the dust settled, return to my life. That would be better for both of us in a way that hurt me deep inside.
Yet I couldn’t.
I wasn’t a quitter and if I shut down on him, he’d retreat into a shell he’d never return from. Was I asking myself why? Maybe a little, but my heart gave me the answer. I cared about him. Was I in love? No. That wasn’t possible. I simply felt something that I’d begun to believe didn’t exist.
With fire in my belly, I retreated from the bathroom, deciding I’d riffle through his things. He’d had the advantage of grabbing a duffle bag, tossing in a few clothes.
I had the simple dress that had blood on it, a piece of clothing I never wanted to see again.
After finding a tee shirt, I quickly slid into it, ensuring my butt was covered. I should have known better. He was several inches taller. The shirt was a dress.
I glanced at the small clock on the nightstand. It was a little after three in the morning. With any luck, Nina would remain asleep for a few hours.
When I slipped from the room, I was caught by just how quiet it was. In bare feet, I padded toward the living room. He wasn’t there. The suite also had a small kitchen, but it was empty, with no sign of him. Maybe he’d taken a walk or headed downstairs to the casino that stayed open all night.
Frustrated, I returned to the living room, uncertain what to do. I had my phone and his number. Should I just call him? No, he hadn’t taken his phone with him. Resigned that I would get nowhere tonight, something caught my eye. A bottle was missing from the bar in the corner of the room. He was here.
As soon as I approached the doors leading to the deck, I could feel him deep within, the crackle of electricity unmistakable.
Very carefully, I opened the door and slipped outside, finding him almost instantly. He was sitting in the dark, although the glow of forever neon lights provided a backdrop that allowed for more than simple silhouettes.
He was splayed in a chair with his legs open wide, his back slumped down. The bottle of booze was placed on his knee with his hand around the neck. I could tell he knew I was there by his rapid breathing. Without looking at me, he took a long pull on the liquor, never blinking as he stared at the lights of the city.
Remaining quiet, I sat down next to him. He didn’t move or acknowledge me, but I could hear his molars grinding.
While the silence was unnerving, at least being with him helped me feel some sense of tethering with him. Our connection wasn’t completely lost. It was funny how my patience was tested. I’d always thought I was extremely patient. I’d had the training early in my life from being a babysitter. Then with working at a daycare to make extra money. When I’d become an elementary teacher, I’d definitely been required to find a way of keeping my cool.
That didn’t mean I hadn’t gone home and had a glass of wine.
Even thirty screaming kids were better than sitting next to a sulking man with a bad attitude. After he took another gulp, I took the bottle from his hand, purposely forcing our fingers to touch.
I could tell he was watching me carefully as I took a sip. In trying not to wince from both the taste and the tenderness of my neck, I drew a slight huff from him. I kept my gaze toward the city, trying to act as if I didn’t have a care in the world.
I’d never be an actor, but I thought I did a pretty good job.
He wasn’t happy with me when I set the bottle on the table far enough away from him, he’d need to lean in front of me to grab it.
Which he did seconds later.
Undeterred, I placed my hand on his, stopping him.
“Don’t.”
