Page 62 of Bleed with Me

“I can’t leave,” I admitted, slowly shaking my head. “My father would die. The Zhumagulovs would destroy my family. What’s my life worth against thirty others?”

Arianna’s face paled, and she bit her lower lip. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears when she looked outside at the busy street.

“I tried, you know,” she breathed, her voice strained with pain. “Many years ago. I took Sonny and ran. For one whole week, I thought we were free.”

Her hand trembled as she lifted her glass and gulped a generous portion of wine. My stomach twisted with dread. I didn’t want to hear the rest of the story, but she told it anyway.

“Sebastian found us,” she whispered, sadly watching the flowers that separated us. “I didn’t see the outside of the basement for five months.” I pressed my lips into a thin line, overcoming an urge to shout her own advice at her. “He claimed I was mentally ill, forbade me from raising my son, and cut me off from everyone I ever knew and loved.” She raised her gaze to look at me, tears smudging her eyeliner and mascara. “Every time I ran, he found me, and the punishment was harder than before until I lost every bit of defiance and will to escape.” A muffled sob broke out of her, and her shoulders shook. “I don’t need company in my personal hell, Nina. I don’t want you to endure this. You deserve better.”

“You deserve better, too,” I claimed sincerely, pressure building behind my eyes. “There has to be something—”

“It’s too late for me, sweetheart,” she whispered, wiping her cheeks with a napkin. “But you still have a chance. I don’t have money or influence. I can’t arrange your disappearance. But if you think I can help you with something, just say a word.”

She smiled kindly, yet she barely held together.

“You can do something for me,” I said, smiling encouragingly. “Prepare the wedding.” Her brows shot up. “Make Sonny believe we’re getting married. And I’ll take care of the rest.”

Sitting in the back seat of my car, driven by my bodyguard, I pulled out my phone in the exact moment the text came. My heart skipped a beat with excitement when Dorian’s name lit up the screen. Lucas somehow cloned the inbox from the burner so my phone could receive messages from the other device. I had no idea how he did it, but it was great.

Cheating husband: I expected you to be camping in my living room when I got home. Did something come up?

I checked my watch, frowning because it was too early for his shift to end. He had a weird schedule in the hospital, mostly tied to planned surgeries. But he never—meaning, since I started to stalk him—left earlier than after 5 pm.

Nina: I’m healing my broken heart. Being married to a cheater isn’t for the weak.

I pressed send, grinning like an idiot. My anxiety about the wedding preparations flew out the window, as if it never existed.

Cheating husband: I’m healing my sore ass after this HUGE misunderstanding. Doesn’t it make us even?

Nina: No, baby. I don’t forgive and forget betrayal easily.

Cheating husband: What about dinner then? We can talk this issue out.

My trembling fingers hovered over the screen for a second before I typed.

Nina: Like a date?

Cheating husband: Yes, like a date.

My brows shot up, excitement quickly replaced by paranoia. Why the sudden change? He never texted me first before. Not once, and suddenly he wanted a date?

Nina: No, thanks. I’m not interested in falling into your trap 😜

Three dots appeared instantly as I sent it.

Cheating husband: Give it a second thought, ma vilaine. Newlyweds should get to know each other better.

I scowled at the screen, the wheels in my brain turning rapidly. Of course, he was provoking me, and it worked flawlessly. Resisting the chance to meet him again seemed unimaginable.

But… There was a huge but.

-32-

Dorian

Checking my phone for the fourth time in the last two minutes, my fingers itched to write another text to my unresponsive wife. You’d think she’d be happy I started the conversation for once. Instead, she left me hanging.

Locking the screen, my eyes were hypnotized by the device for another long moment before my mom’s hand on my forearm interrupted me.