He used to. A lot. But he hasn’t in a while, not until you.
Why? Why did he start fighting? What do I have to do with that? Did he start fighting to numb whatever feelings he’s hiding behind?
I turn onto my side and pull the covers up, trying to force myself to sleep. But my mind won’t shut off. I can’t stop thinking about the way Konstantin looks at Emilia, how he touches her like she’s everything to him.
I want that. So badly.
I don’t know when I fall asleep, but I do. Eventually.
And the next thing I feel is the shift of the mattress beneath me, the faintest pull of weight as the bed dips behind me. I stir, disoriented, heart kicking up once before I hear it: his voice, low and rough and barely more than a whisper.
“Sleep. I’m here.”
Aleksei.
Quiet surrender washes over me as a smile winds up my mouth and I sink into him, too afraid to open my eyes to see if I’m dreaming. The heat of him sinks into my back, hesitation in his breath before his arm curls around my waist, and I know this is real. It has to be.
He exhales against the back of my neck, his nose brushing the curve of my shoulder like he needs to remind himself I’m real. That I haven’t disappeared. When his palm pulls metighter, my throat thickens as I wonder if he came here because he couldn’t stay away or because he knew I was hoping he would.
And whether it even makes a difference.
I wake up reaching for him.
It’s automatic now, this foolish little twitch of hope that he stayed. That maybe, just maybe, last night meant something.
But the sheets are empty. Of course he isn’t there. Why would anything change with Aleksei?
I lie there for a few more seconds staring at the ceiling, trying to shake the tight knot building in my chest.
It’s stupid. This is stupid. Clearly there’s never going to be anything real between us.
I seriously need to go back to the days when I wanted to stab him in the eye with a fork. Those were much simpler times.
I drag myself out of bed and into the shower, the water hot and satisfying against my skin, trying to wash away the memory of his touch. But it clings. Like everything else about him.
When I arrive at work, the day moves in slow motion. I can’t focus at the meeting. Can’t focus in court. Even when Dana starts gushing about the new guy she’s seeing over lunch, I’m only half there, nodding in the right places and pretending to listen while my mind replays the same damn reel on repeat.
Him. Last night. The way I felt when he touched me.
Why am I like this? Why do I keep hoping he’ll give me an ounce of something real? Every time I think I see it, he tears it away like it was never there.
By the time I’m heading back to the office, I’m ready to scream into a pillow or maybe set something on fire. Preferably him.
My phone buzzes on my desk, and when I find his name there, my heart gives a little kick.
Great…
Aleksei
Dinner. You and me. Tonight at 7.
That’s it?
No hello. No apology for disappearing. Just a command. Like I’m a possession he left on the nightstand and expects to be waiting, smiling and compliant.
I roll my eyes so hard, I’m surprised they stay in my skull.
Fiona
