Forget her.Forget her.Fucking forget her.
When it’s over, I lie there, staring at the ceiling. My heart is pounding, my body still buzzing, but my mind has gone eerily silent.
Adriana shifts beside me. “Are…are you okay?” she asks softly. “Do you need anything?”
I don’t look at her. I don’t want her to see that I’ve started crying. “No,” I say.
It answers both questions.
There’s a pause, then she slips from the bed. The bathroom door closes, and a moment later, water begins to run. I don’t move. A dense and suffocating heaviness settles inside me. I haven’t felt it like this since I stood at my brother’s funeral, shaking hands I couldn’t control while people told me they were sorry.
It’s rage.
It’s helplessness.
It’s heartbreak.
The ceiling blurs. I blink, but it doesn’t clear. Whatever was left of me just drifted further out of reach.
I used her.
Not cruelly, per se. But I did. And the worst part is, for a few minutes, it worked. For a few minutes, I didn’t feel the cage. I drag a hand over my face and stare at the empty doorway.
I don’t deserveher. I haven’t since I walked away from her on her front porch eight years ago. I deserve someone more like Adriana, honestly. I'm drowning myself in someone else because my life fucking sucks. Just like she's done to me for years. Look at that, two of the same goddamn monster.
My mind drifts to the woman who will forever have part of my soul.
If you ever find out what I’ve become…
My throat tightens.
I hope you never have to see it. But if you do, I hope you can somehow forgive me.
Chapter fourteen
EMMA EASTON
“So,” Nico starts with a grin. “Rook told us that you’re a damsel in distress.”
I straighten my posture. “He’s…correct, I suppose.”
His dark brown eyes don’t blink. They juststudyme. The server returns to take their drink orders when she drops my mojito off. Her eyes light up when she sees who joined me. I can’t imagine why, honestly. They’re terrifying.
“Are you ready to order, Emma?” Rafe asks softly. His voice is so refined, even if he looks like a demon wearing a gorgeous man-suit.
“Yeah,” I manage. “Seafood alfredo, please.”
Nico considers my order. “Same. That sounds like enough to bring home.”
Rafe smiles at him, then looks up at the server. “Filet and lobster. Medium rare.” He lifts a finger. “And I’ll take the Parmesan-crusted salmon to go. For my wife.”
God, his wife must be a bad bitch.
The server nods and leaves. He’s definitely been here a lot.
“So,” Rafe says, looking at me like he’s studying my facial expressions. “The Russian problem.”
My throat tightens. “Alexei Morozov has taken the man I love.”
