"Fuck," I gasp.
My other hand goes to my breast. Squeezing. The way he used to. I imagine it's him. His hands. His mouth. His cock.
The vibrator hums against my clit and I'm so close—
I look at his face on the screen. At those blue eyes.
And I come. Hard. Crying out his name into the empty room. "Drogo—"
The orgasm crashes through me. Violent. Desperate. I ride it out. Trembling. Sobbing.
When it's over, I lie there. Spent. Pathetic. Staring at his photo. At the ghost I can't let go.
The vibrator falls from my hand. I curl onto my side. Pull the phone close. Trace his face on the screen with one finger.
"I hate you," I whisper.
But it's a lie.
33
DROGO
I wake at 5 AM. Like always.
First move: the tablet. Like always.
I reach for it on the nightstand. Screen lights up. Surveillance feeds loading. Alena's house. Multiple cameras. Living room. Kitchen. Exterior.
I swipe through. Empty rooms. She's probably—
Movement on the exterior feed.
I freeze.
A car. Black Aston Martin. Pulling up to her house.
A man gets out.
Tall. Brown hair. Green eyes visible even through the camera. Expensive suit. Handsome—no, beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes men look like fucking models.
He walks to her door. Knocks.
The door opens.
And there she is.
Alena.
In a red dress. Backless. Hair done. Makeup perfect.
She looks… stunning.
My heart stops.
The man smiles at her. Says something I can't hear. She responds. He opens the car door for her. She gets in. They drive away.
I stare at the empty screen. At the spot where she stood. In a red dress. For him. The jealousy hits like a fist to the gut—hot, vicious, so intense I can't breathe. My hands shake. Myvision blurs at the edges. Two years. Two years of keeping her safe, watching from the shadows, protecting her from Klaus, from threats she doesn't even know exist. And this is how I find out she's moved on. Through a fucking surveillance camera.
