I am too hyped up. Nagging thoughts steal every bit of peace, trying to find a solution. But the only one comes with confessing. If there was any chance that my best friend might forgive me, knowing what I did to her would obliterate it. He would see the hurt I caused and not the reason she’s still alive.
I’ve killed my father and our men for her. But what he will see is a backstabber. A liar. A rapist.
I drag a hand down my face, needing to drink something to ease my troubled mind.
I slip out of the bed, tiptoeing out not to wake her. Not bothering to call the flight attendant, I go straight to the bar and snatch a bottle of vodka. Sinking down in an armchair, I toss the bottle back, drowning my misery and failing.
Through the round window, the night swallows the sky, just like despair obscures my life essence.
I take another gulp. The smooth liquid trickling down my throat does nothing to ease me. Time slips away just like my sanity, every second booming with my imminent demise.
I make my way back to the bedroom after finishing my drink. I watch her sleep for a few moments before climbing into bed, trying not to wake her. She mumbles something before scootingover to press herself against my side. I fall asleep holding the treasure of my life. And just like a treasure, I’ll protect it till my last breath. I’d sooner die than live without her.
23
DAHLIA
Paris. The city of love will forever remain ingrained in my memory as the place where I fell so deeply in love with him that it’s irreversible. He’s embedded in my soul, stitched with a golden thread around my heart.
While he takes a call, I palm the window of the penthouse suite, enjoying the unobstructed view of the majestic Eiffel Tower, where we’ll head for dinner.
After we landed, the driver brought us to this exclusive hotel. After checking in, we went back out, wanting to discover every corner of this bustling capital.
I should be tired after walking for so long. But ambling through the city felt divine. The anonymity, the holding of hands as we discovered this fascinating metropole. For a few hours, I forgot everything about the impossibility of us, even our lives. Here we are just Mika and Dahlia, not the Pakhan and his best friend’s little sister.
I sense Mika long before he places a hand on my back. My lungs fill up with his heady scent like he’s the oxygen I drag into my starved lungs.
His hard body presses into mine, cocooning me in blissful heat. My wall of protection.
“Let’s never leave,” I murmur, feeling nostalgic for a life that we could lead. It’s so unfair.
“Then we won’t,” he says, tone etched in determination, freeing millions of butterflies in my belly.
The change in him is unmistakable. I don’t know if I wore him down, or after having me, he’s incapable of staying away. The knowledge elates me, but it also terrifies me. Our love comes at a price I am not willing to pay.
My brother would never understand. He would paint him as guilty, denying him a fair trial. I was the only witness that mattered in our messed-up situation. I’ve never blamed Mika. God knows he has blamed himself for both of us. There simply wasn’t another solution, so I refused to entertain all those what-ifs. It happened. We can’t change the past.
While I love all the touristy stuff, blending in, that won’t be the case tonight.
He’s dressed in a dark grey, custom-made suit that fits his muscular body and the dangerous dark vibe he emanates so well. I am wearing a silver satin dress that falls to my ankles. Two thin straps hold the dress, while a deep V dips in front and back. Our attires match, the image sending a jolt of glee through my body. We look like a couple.
I feel sexy yet sophisticated. The appreciative gleam flickering in his eyes shows he approves. I don’t wear this dress for me, but for him, wanting his entire attention on me.
I catch something sparkly dangling from his hand, and my eyes instantly widen.
Okay, so maybe we didn’t do just the touristy stuff, but on our stroll, I discovered this jewelry shop that had one-of-a-kind jewelry. And while my eye caught a diamond engagement ring with a price attached that had me blinking: 1.6 million euros.I know the astronomical price because I asked once I saw him talking to a salesperson.
It was the only thing I truly wanted from there, aware I would never get the engagement ring. So I told him, I found nothing.
I guess he did. The necklace looks like gold leaves interlaced with diamonds, with an oval emerald trailing down. Putting it around my neck, I brush my fingertip along the intricate craftsmanship. He must have paid a fortune for it.
After he locks it, I turn around only to see that the necklace is part of a set, having matching earrings and a bracelet.
“Mika, it’s too much…” I whisper, the awe in my voice unmistakable.
“Nothing is too much for you.”
I sigh dreamily, and as he helps me put the set on completing the luxurious yet elegant look, I cross my arms around his neck. Even in heels, I don’t even reach his chin. But I love the height difference. It makes me feel feminine.
