64
Bella
Iwalk away because it’s the only thing I can do.
The door closes behind me, sealing him in that hollow, empty rooftop. I walk. One step at a time. Down the stairs. Down the corridor.
Down, down, down.
Don’t you cry. Don’t you cry.
I knew better than to expect anything real from him.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Not with an apology. Not with a single word that matters. Just a bracelet—a fucking bracelet—and a look that says everything he won’t.
Halfway down the stairs, I stop.
It’s not far, but the steps stretch out like a goddamn mountain. My muscles tremble, my thigh aches where 27 stitches run a jagged line down my skin, each step like glass slicing throughtender flesh. It shouldn’t hurt this much to move, but the weight in my chest makes every inch feel like a mile.
My hand grips the railing, knuckles white as I take each step. Tears sting my eyes before I can blink them away, hot and furious. I hate this. I hate that he gets to walk back in like nothing happened.
A sob rises in my throat, but I swallow it down, hard. Not here. Not now. I keep moving, staring at the floor as the hallway stretches endlessly in front of me. The walls blur. My chest tightens. My breaths come too fast, too shallow. I can still feel his touch on my wrist. The weight of that bracelet, cold against my skin, like a shackle.
Two weeks.
Yelena’s deadline echoes in my head with each step. Two weeks to decide whether to end a life that’s barely begun or disappear forever. Vanish like Irina, becoming another ghost in the Belov family history.
Either way, I lose.
Either way, I leave.
A laugh bubbles up, bitter and broken. God, what a cliché I’ve become. The poor girl who married rich, got pregnant and thought love might follow. A Lifetime movie special waiting to happen.
“Just take the money and go,” I whisper to myself, the words creating small clouds in the cool stairwell air. “It’s what anyone sensible would do.”
But when have I ever been sensible? I stayed for Julian and Lila when running would have been easier. I signed a contract with a man whose world I couldn’t begin to comprehend. I let myself fall for cold gray eyes and rare smiles.
My foot slips on the next step. The world tilts. My hands grasp empty air as I pitch forward.
And then—arms. Strong, certain, catching me before I hit the stairs.
His fingers gripping my arms tight enough to leave bruises. The hallway sways around us, but I can’t focus on anything except the heat of his body, the solid wall of his chest pressing against my back. His hands are iron clamps around my arms, holding me in place, grounding me in the storm of my own mind.
“Bella,” he says, low and rough against my ear. My name vibrates through me, sinking deep, settling somewhere beneath my ribs. His breath is warm, too warm, brushing against the side of my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut, a fresh wave of tears burning hot and fast.
I gasp, a sound caught between a sob and a curse. Because he’s here. Holding me. And I can’t decide whether to shove him away or let myself sink into him.
“You okay?” His voice slips over my skin, warm and unwelcome. I want to say something sharp, tell him to go to hell. But what comes out is a shaky, broken laugh.
I look up, startled to find his face inches from mine. Those damned eyes—storm-gray with flecks of ice blue, like the sky over frozen water.
I blink rapidly, the ceiling doubling and blurring. “Did you always look this good while rescuing damsels in distress?”
“Making jokes won’t stop you from hurting, Bella.”
“And being an asshole won’t stop you from feeling,” I shoot back, the words slipping out before I can catch them. “But here we are.”
