Page 98 of Violent Pawn

Nero?

My hand lifts, as though to reach. A roving spotlight scanning the room passes in that exact moment, blinding me.

When it continues and the balcony is clear once more, his back is to me, walking away.

The non-interaction leaves me so rattled that I roughly pluck out the many bobby pins keeping my hair up the second I’m inside my changing room. My lungs constrict, no breath enough to process what I think just happened—who I believe was present.

My steps falter, lungs becoming basically useless when met with the sight of the massive bouquet of roses on my vanity table.

There’s no way.

I should toss them out without even touching them. Should burn them like the deliverer burned my trust.

But I don’t. I walk towards them, scanning for a card but finding none. Nothing to confirm he was here, but he was.

Deep down, I feel it.

The donation Anya showed me flits into my mind. A man with means like Nero would be able to do something like that, but would he? If he believes a donation can make up for what he stole from Lev and me, he has another thing coming.

Suddenly, my rattled heart thanks him for the donation. Because for a moment, at the sight of him on the balcony, I forgot how much his actions hurt me.

My legs crumple under me, and I sit on the bench, staring at the exhausted woman in the reflection. My skin is red from exertion, my hair now a crinkly shape from being in a tight bun before I tore out my bobby pins, the dress showing signs of sweat.

Otherwise, she’s normal. She’s the Elite her family knows. The one everyone’s been waiting nearly two months to witness snap—again. Vanessa and the others have been so cautious not to say the wrong thing, and it’s downright irritatingly supportive.

It’s her expression that rips out my heart, though. Eyes a bit emptier than they were. For a few good weeks, they were bright with happiness. A mouth that struggles to smile. Fingers tired from constantly refreshing my phone, seeking another text even though his initial explanation said everything and now it’s up to me to respond. After our playful messages in the beginning, the weak moments I live through long to see his name flash on my phone with an incoming text.

I pluck a single rose from the bouquet and bring it up to my nose, inhaling deeply. Two months and not a sign from Nero, and this is how he returns? The flowers, his presence, the donation… It’s not the man I punched.

Not the lying version of him. The one who used me. The thief of everything—my papa’s location, my trust, and my hea—I cut the thought off before it takes an undesirable journey.

That version would do all this. He would’ve continued to stay away.

I slip the rose back into the vase and face the mirror again. A wipe of my hand traps the traitorous stray tear sliding down my cheek that I vowed to never have over him after the last time.

None of this matters, anyway. Nero will never earn my forgiveness, no matter how much my heart shatters every time he appears in my thoughts.

“Did Nero fly in with you?”

Zeno glances up from the wine he’s pouring after abruptly bursting into the kitchen. He scans me, taking in the mussed post-performance hair, the fact I didn’t bother changing my clothes before speeding home, needing to know if I’m insane or not. After filing the rose back into the vase, I never stood up from the bench, finding my muscles unable to complete all the things I had to, since my mind was continuously on him.

He’s a dick who’s ruining my life, even when I’m trying my darndest to forget him.

“No?” He phrases it with confusion, and the tilt of his head.

“You alright?” Vanessa comes up behind me, entering the kitchen in time to see me officially flip from sane to insane. I must be if I don’t discover the truth behind tonight.

“Fine.” I wave her off without bothering to glance her way. Instead, I practically crawl across the counter to get to Zeno and make him understand why this is so important. “Are you absolutely sure?”

Confusion shifts to a concerned glance towards Vanessa that I pretend not to see. “Ninety percent positive. He’s in Rome, working. Did you…did you want him here?” A strange hopeful expression crosses his face, though it’s quickly masked by a sip of his drink.

My heartbeat slows with the confirmation of my insanity. Of course, Zeno’s telling the truth. Of course, he’d know if his own right-hand man was out of the country and away from work.

“No.” I straighten off the counter, collecting my remaining dignity. “It’s fine. It’s—never mind.”

Before he or Vanessa bothers me with more questions, I escape from the kitchen. When Vanessa asks him to fill her in on what I said before she entered, my steps slow, hesitating to listen to Zeno’s response. Back to the wall beside the doorway, I brace my stomach and stop breathing.

“She was wondering if Nero is in town. I told her he isn’t.”