For a minute, I don’t know if I envy him for not feeling this kind of pain or pity him for never knowing what it means to love someone so much it destroys you.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
FIONA
My hands curlaround the chamomile tea, letting the warmth of the mug settle into my palms while the TV hums in the background, nothing more than noise.
Every night in this hotel suite, it feels smaller. Maybe it’s the loneliness, or maybe it’s the way everything reminds me of him even when he isn’t here.
It’s been another two days, and I just want to go home. Back to my old life, away from the constant reminders of him. But the reality is, going back home wouldn’t change any of it. He’d still be in every corner of my thoughts.
Finishing my tea, I change into an oversized T-shirt and leggings, pull my hair into a messy bun, and drop onto the bed, knowing what comes next. It’s what I do every night, needing my fix.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand, unlock the screen, and stare at photos of us from when I actually let myself imagine a future with him. I gaze at the pictures until my chest twinges. Until I can almost sense the warmth of his breath against my neck, the sound of his laugh echoing in my ear.
It gets harder every day not to go back. Harder not to answer when he calls, not to fold under the weight of how much I miss him. But I can’t seem to forgive him.
Love doesn’t erase betrayal. It only makes it hurt more.
Just as I scroll to another photo, the phone buzzes, Mom’s picture appearing on the screen, and I just don’t have the energy to speak to her. A second later, a text pops up.
Mom
I know you need time, and Papa and I understand that, but we miss you so much and just want you to know we love you and we are sorry.
My eyes pinch shut and I text her back.
Fiona
I know. Good night, Ma.
Mom
Good night, tesoro.
Releasing a sigh, I drop the phone onto the comforter and stare up at the ceiling.
She’s sorry. He’s sorry. They’re all sorry. But sorry doesn’t undo what they did.
At least I know my parents are safe at Aleksei’s. He’d never let anyone hurt them, no matter how angry I am with him. That’s just who he is. The contradiction that is Aleksei Marinov: merciless to the world, but not to the people he loves.
I press a hand over my heart, the throbbing there deep and constant. It’s been days, but it feels like years. Like I’ve been holding my breath since the moment I walked out of his office and haven’t found the strength to exhale.
The room is colder all of a sudden, and I curl onto my side, pulling the blanket up to my chin while I flip through channels without really seeing any of them. No matter what’s on the screen, all I can think about is him.
His voice. His hands. The way he looked at me before everything fell apart.
A movie plays in the background, something loud and dramatic, but it barely registers. I’m drifting, half numb, when a knock jolts me upright.
I glance at the clock beside the bed. Past eleven. Who would be here at this hour?
My bodyguards are on rotation, one always stationed right outside. If something was wrong, they would text me or just storm in.
The knock comes again, harder this time.
A groan slips out as I shove the comforter aside and pad across the floor. Pressing my eye to the peephole, I catch sight of who it is, and the air leaves my lungs in a rush.
Aleksei is there, running a hand through his disheveled hair, wearing gray sweats slung low on his hips and a wrinkled hoodie, like he pulled it on without thinking.
