I blink. “What?”
“The sex. Scale of one to ten.”
A startled laugh escapes me. “That’s your follow-up question?”
“I’m gathering data. Answer the question.”
“I don’t know. Eleven? Twelve?” My face is burning. “The kind where you forget your own name and won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”
“Jesus.” She fans herself dramatically. “Okay, that’s... that complicates things.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
“Doesn’t it?” She sets down the curling iron. “Sierra, you’re not exactly a casual sex person. Never have been.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t argue with that.
“How do you feel about him?” she asks quietly. “Not the sex. Him.”
I’ve been dodging this question, even inside my own head.
“He makes me feel safe,” I finally admit. “Like myself again. The version of me that existed before Viktor broke something.”
Annika is quiet for a moment. I watch her choosing her words.
“You felt safe with Viktor too,” she says gently. “In the beginning.”
I flinch. She sees it.
“I’m not saying they’re the same person. I’m saying you’ve known Matteo for what, a few weeks? And you’re already talking about him like he’s your home.” She pauses. “That scares me.”
The words hit somewhere tender. I pull my knees into my chest, making myself smaller.
“Come here.” Her voice is gentle now. “Come to Amsterdam, Sierra.”
I go still.
“Get away from all of this,” she continues. “Viktor, the wedding, the whole mess. You can stay with me and Carl. Figure things out without a gun to your head; without getting in deeper with a man you barely know.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. You just won’t.”
She’s right. And it pisses me off a little, the way the truth always does.
“My family is here.” I’m gripping the pillow now, knuckles white. “My life is here. If I run, Viktor wins.”
“And if you stay? What happens when this fake marriage with Matteo ends, and you’re in love with him?”
In love with him.
The words hang there, too big for the screen between us.
“I’m not—” I stand up abruptly, pacing toward the window. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?”
I press my forehead against the cool glass. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know.”
