“The grief…” Olivia exhaled shakily. “It floods over me every time something horrible happens, like tonight. It drags me under, no matter how hard I fight it. Roman and I were apart for too long. Each day without him felt like an eternity in hell.”
Her words settled between us, heavy and inescapable.
Our eyes locked, and for a moment, it felt as if we were suspended in time, just the two of us, bound by a love that had survived separation, tragedy, and the unrelenting grip of loss.
I reached for her, my fingers lacing tightly around hers. “I cannot begin to fathom the sorrow you must feel, my love.”
“Tragic,” Count Montego murmured, shaking his head. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
The carriage rocked gently, the rhythmic clatter of hooves filling the silence between us. None of us spoke, each lost in our thoughts of ghosts.
Finally, the count cleared his throat. “I assume you’ll be coming home with me?”
His generosity sometimes overwhelmed me, and this moment was no exception.
“Oh, no, Count Montego,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Besides, I must find Malik. That’s where you’re staying, isn’t it, my love?”
I turned to Olivia, my expression softening as I took in her delicate features, the remaining sadness in her eyes.
Montego scoffed. “Nonsense! I insist that you stay with me!”
Olivia and I exchanged a glance, silently debating our next move.
I turned back to the count. “I need to speak with Malik.”
Montego waved a dismissive hand. “Very well. I shall escort you there; you can talk, and then you will join me at my home.” He beamed as if the matter had already been decided, then lifted his news sheet again, utterly content with his own decree.
Olivia sighed softly, shrugging slightly as she leaned into me. Then, in a whisper only I could hear, she asked, “What do you think will happen to Tristan?”
I exhaled, my grip on her tightening. “Who can say? His father is a madman.”
The wagon lurched, hitting another rough patch of road, and we both bounced on the seat.
Olivia let out a startled laugh, pressing a hand against my chest to steady herself. Then, she whispered conspiratorially, “You know, in the movies in my time, this always looks so smooth—traveling by carriage or wagon. But in truth, it’s a bumpy ride.”
A chuckle rumbled in my chest as I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Welcome to reality, amore mio.”
I snorted, my gaze flicking toward Count Montego to see if he was paying us any mind.
He appeared absorbed in his news sheet, so I said, “I got to ride in one of your automobiles. I rode in your Jeep. It was very smooth.”
A wistful expression crossed Olivia’s face. “Oh, my Jeep! I loved that car.”
“I want to get a motorcycle,” I said.
Olivia laughed, shaking her head. “Of course you do! A badass bike for my badass husband.”
Then, just as quickly, her amusement faded. A shadow crossed her features. “I still can’t believe I fell for the son of my worst enemy.” She sounded bitter. “It makes me feel dirty to have been intimate with him.”
Jealousy shot up my spine, my fingers twitching with the urge to claim her right then and there, to erase any trace of him from her body, her mind, and her soul.
“That’s not an image I cherish, either,” I said, my voice turning cold.
The heat in my blood rose as I growled, “I’d rather not discuss Balthazar or his evil spawn.”
A rustle of paper.
The count lowered his news sheet, his eyes sharp with sudden interest. “Did you say the name Balthazar?”
