There is history between them. That is obvious. And he’s done this while I’m asleep in the bed that he claimed me in last night.
This man promised me a future. And now, he’s not even pushing her away. He doesn’t deserve my hurt. My anger. Men like this thrive on that.
So instead, I close the door. Quietly. Carefully. Like if I move slowly enough, the moment will rewind.
It doesn’t.
I slide down the door and press my fist to my mouth to keep the sound in. My chest caves, the air thick and useless in my lungs. God, I’m so fucking stupid.
Too good to be true. Of course it was. Of course, a man like him doesn’t just… choose someone like me. Of course, there’s another woman who looks like she knows him better, touches him like she has every right to.
I wipe my face furiously, ashamed of myself. Ashamed that I let myself believe him. That I let him touch me like I was special. That I said things I can’t take back. That I fell hard and fast without a parachute.
I don’t go back out there. I don’t ask who she is. I don’t ask why. I don’t ask him anything. Because I don’t want to hear the truth. He is meant to protect me, and I thought that also meant my heart.
I crawl back into the bed, curling in on myself, his shirt clutched to my chest like a fucking idiot. I cry silently into the pillow, my body shaking, my heart breaking in the quietest way possible.
I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing just how badly he’s hurt me.
This can just be what it always was… a vacation fling. No different from any of the others I’ve had. I can just pretend he isn’t the first man to ever make me feel alive. The first time I’ve ever felt loved by a man.
I don’t know who the real Drago is. And now… I don’t fucking want to.
He didn’t push her away. That in itself gives me every answer I need. I just am not enough.
As the tears fall down my face, as my lungs start to seize on me, I wish I had my aftershave, something to make me feel safe.
Because the one person who did that for me just became my ruin.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Drago
The kiss is calculated. Her lips press with intent, not desire, and the second I register it, my body locks. But it’s already too late.
For a heartbeat, I don’t move. For a heartbeat, I let it happen, and the self-loathing hits like a fucking bullet.
I shove her back hard enough that the chair scrapes loudly across the floor, my gun snapping up again, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. “Don’t,” I snarl. My voice shakes, not with fear, but with disgust. At her. At myself.
She smiles, like she’s already won something.
I taste it then. The wrongness of it. The betrayal sitting heavy on my tongue. Not to Tatiana, but to Lily. To the woman asleep in the next room, trusting me with her safety. With her heart.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand like I can erase it. I want to be sick when I see the red lipstick marks.
“I warned you,” I say, cold and lethal now. “You don’t get to touch me.”
Tatiana laughs softly, “You let me.”
I hate that she’s right. I hate that for a fraction of a second, I froze instead of stopping her.
I step closer, gun still trained on her, fury coiled tight beneath my skin. “That will never happen again. And if you try it, you won’t walk out of here.”
Her eyes glitter. “Wow. If that was a kiss…”
“Do we have a deal? Or is this about to start a fucking war?” I say coldly.
She wipes the side of her mouth with her finger. “I’ll be in touch, Drago.” She turns and walks towards the elevator, stopping just before.
