Not forever, obviously. He wasn’t running away from me—at least, I didn’t think so. He had some “work thing” in DC, which sounded shady enough on its own. I’d spent a solid hour after he left trying to guess what kind of crooked senator or shady lobbyist he was defending. But I hadn’t asked, because he wouldn’t have told me anyway.
So, for the past few days, I’d been living every broke girl’s dream. I had Marco’s massive, painfully modern apartment to myself, a credit card without a limit, and absolutely zero supervision.
Had I gone a little crazy? Maybe.
Had I ordered sushi every night just because I could? Absolutely.
Had I browsed ridiculously expensive dresses online and left them in the cart, just to see how much I could theoretically spend without feeling guilty? You bet.
It should’ve been amazing. Honestly, itwasamazing for about two days.
And then it got ... boring.
There was only so much shopping you could do without actually needing anything; only so much sushi you could eat alone while pretending it wasn’t weird.
Because it was weird. The emptiness, the quiet, the sterile perfection of his apartment. It was starting to get to me.
And that annoyed me more than anything else.
Marco wasn’t even around, and somehow he was still managing to ruin my fun.
He hadn’t given me a timeframe. Hadn’t even said when—or honestly, if—he was coming back.
After a few more days of existing alone in his aggressively depressing apartment, I snapped. I couldn’t handle it anymore. Couldn’t stand another night staring at plain walls and pretending like this was home.
So I called Max, and within half an hour, Sasha showed up at my old apartment with a smirk and a moving truck.
Of course it had to be Sasha. He was Max and Mikhail’s favorite lackey: loyal as hell, quiet enough to be mysterious, with that annoyingly perfect hair that made him look like he belonged on a yacht instead of hauling my boxes across town. The pretty one, with bright blue eyes and ash-brown hair, who handled things quietly in the background without ever complaining.
“Miss me already?” Sasha teased, leaning against the truck like he didn’t have anywhere better to be.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, rolling my eyes as I pointed to the first stack of boxes. “Grab those.”
Sasha moved my things without complaint, but I did catch the little amused glance he shot me every time he carried something out the door. He was probably wondering how Marco would react when he saw all this—my colorful throw pillows, framed prints, and shelves full of books.
And plants.Somany plants. Green, living things that Marco would definitely hate, which made me like them even more.
Eventually, we arrived back at Marco’s apartment and started moving everything inside.
“Planning to make this permanent?” Sasha asked, nudging a potted monstera into place by the window.
“No,” I said quickly. Probably too quickly. “Just making it less ...dead, you know?”
Sasha raised an eyebrow but wisely didn’t push. Instead he helped me unload the last few boxes, and suddenly, Marco’s place didn’t feel so much like a showroom. It felt like a place someone actually lived in. Like a place I could survive staying in without losing my mind.
But the biggest change? I put mirrors back up.
Marco had gotten rid of all of them. He’d never explained why, and honestly, I hadn’t pushed. For a while, avoiding mirrors had felt easier anyway. But lately, I’d started to miss my reflection. Applying makeup with my phone camera had lost its charm pretty quickly.
So I added a full-length mirror in the bedroom, one in the hall, and a smaller one in the bathroom. Baby steps toward normal.
I stood back, arms crossed, surveying my handiwork. Sasha watched me, amused, as always.
“He’s gonna kill you,” he said lightly, grinning.
I shrugged, smirking right back. “He’s welcome to try.”
He’d have to come back if he wanted to try. And maybe that was exactly what I wanted.
