I can’t be listening to this. It might as well be an admission of a crime.
My heart thuds. “You weren’t with me…last night, were you? I could’ve sworn you?—”
He shakes his head too hard, like he’s trying to rid himself of the thought. “No. You were alone.”
How can that be? I swear I heard him. Felt his arms. Was it a dream?
A part of me aches at the confirmation. Not because I wanted him here, but because…well, maybe I did.
God, what’s wrong with me?
“If you want to shower…” He rises to his feet. “Your things are in the bathroom. Same products you use at home.”
I jerk back. “You went to my house?”
“No.” He scoffs. “I was preparing for the inevitable.”
My body goes rigid. Does he mean he bought them in advance and kept them for when I was here? For when I married him? He really was planning this…
“If you’re hungry, my chef has made lunch. I can have it brought up to you.”
“Lunch?” I glance at the clock on the nightstand. “What time is it?”
“Noon. You’ve been out for a while.” He looks me over slowly. “You look better. I was worried.”
That last sentence is so quiet, I almost miss it.
Almost.
He turns to go.
“Aleksei,” I call out, surprising both of us.
He pauses.
I swallow past the knot building there. “Thank you. For…whatever you did. For not leaving me.”
He doesn’t smirk or throw one of his sharp, condescending replies. He just nods, but there’s something raw in his face that takes me aback.
Then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him. While I sit here, tangled in his sheets, drowning in his scent, wondering how the man who threatened to ruin my life could be the same one who made sure I lived through the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY
FIONA
The warm waterhas washed away the grime, but not the dread curling inside me as I relive what I remember. What that piece of shit could’ve done to me.
I swear, I’m never drinking again.
My headache is little more than a dull whisper now, nothing like the hammering from earlier, and the soup his staff sent up after he left was exactly what I needed. I’d never tried borscht before, the rich red broth with potatoes and beets, but it settled in my stomach with a warmth that felt almost comforting.
Back in the bed, I press my fingers to my temples while replying to more of Dana’s frantic messages, telling her I’m okay and with a friend. That seems to make her feel a bit better.
As comfortable as this bed is, I’m going to have to go home sometime soon. I can’t stay here anymore and pretend Aleksei and I are best friends now.
What a weird thought.
A hard knock comes, and I know it’s him before he walks in—with a shirt on this time. Unfortunately. He should look softer like this. Less dangerous, more human. Except he doesn’t. Not even a little.
