Someone who'll make me stop scanning crowds for her face. Stop holding my breath when she walks into a room.
I've tried. Blonde, brunette, redhead. Brilliant women. Beautiful women.
But none of them are her.
And the worst part? I'm too fucking terrified to do anything about it.
Because if I tell Alena how I feel and she doesn't feel the same? I lose her. Seventeen years of friendship, gone. The only family I've got, burned to ash because I couldn't keep my mouth shut.
So, I fuck strangers and pretend it helps.
It doesn't.
She steps close, rises on her toes. I bend down automatically—muscle memory from a thousand goodbyes.
Her lips brush my cheek, cold and soft. "Behave yourself tonight."
"Never do," I murmur.
She pulls back, and there's something in her eyes I can't read. Something that looks almost like regret.
Then she's gone, her heels clicking against marble, that impossible hair swaying with each step.
I watch until she disappears through the doors.
My phone buzzes.
Probably one of the investors.
I glance at the screen.
An unknown number.
A photo: me and Alena in the rain, close enough to see her smile. The angle is from across the street. Whoever took it was right fucking there.
No caption.
My blood turns to ice.
Then a second message appears:
She's beautiful. Your father sends his regards.
I stare at the screen, heart hammering against my ribs.
They know.
They've always known.
And now they're making sure I know they know.
I grab my coat and head for the door.
No one touches what's mine.
2
ALENA
