Page 22 of The Russian's Bought Bride

That catches me off guard. “What?”

“You don’t need to believe me,” he clarifies. “Not yet, anyway.”

That makes no sense. None of this makes sense.

It feels like I’m spinning and the ground keeps shifting under my feet, making me struggle to find anything solid to hold onto.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” I whisper.

“Rest,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if I have the liberty to ignore everything else and take a nap instead.

That’s all it takes to make me snap.

“My dad is dead!” I shout, struggling under the grief and anger as they collide with me simultaneously. “I woke up in a place I don’t recognize, with a man I don’t know telling me I can’t leave or call anyone, and your solution is for me to rest?”

My vision blurs with tears again, hot and relentless. All of it at once is giving me whiplash, and I’m choking out more words than I can stop while he looks more startled now. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Do you understand that? Do you understand how much that hurts?”

My voice breaks completely at the end, and the anger drains out of me all at once, leaving me raw and hollow.

Sinking back onto the edge of the bed, my body gives out under the weight of it all.

“I was supposed to be there,” I whisper with a weak shake of my head. The deep, unshakable sadness breaks through the surface all over again. “I was supposed to be with him…I was going to save him. I was going to fix it.”

But I didn’t, and now he’s gone.

A sob escapes me before I can stop it, and the reality crashes over me again, more suffocating this time.

My shoulders shake as I try and fail to hold it together.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of my own shattered breathing, then I catch the slight rustle of fabric as Liam takes a small step closer.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is quieter now, and almost different somehow.

Looking up at him through blurred vision, my chest aches before my limbs go numb, unable to bear the weight of everything anymore.

“No, you’re not,” I say immediately, the words coming out harsher than I expect. “You don’t even know him.”

He doesn’t argue or defend himself once more. Instead, his eyes soften fractionally.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says instead.

Even if he means well, it sounds too practiced and detached, like something people say because they’re supposed to.

“I don’t want your condolences, and I don’t want anything from you,” I snap, wiping at my face angrily.

After a brief hesitation, he murmurs, “That’s not entirely true.”

Not knowing what he means, I can only stare at him with my brows furrowed.

Liam takes another breath and absently rubs at his jaw like it’s a habit more than anything. “I know you want answers.”

He’s not wrong, but that doesn’t make it any better. It sure as hell doesn’t give him any reason to keep me here.

Pressing my lips together, I turn my face away.

“I just want to be alone,” I mutter.