Page 134 of The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)

I ignored her and headed down the hall toward the exit, clipping shoulders with a guest on the way out. I mumbled an apology but didn’t slow my pace because the backs of my eyes burned and threatened to spill over.

“Gianna? My goodness, I thought that was you!” Samantha Delacorte’s heels clicked as she caught up to me. “I never thought I’d run into you here,” she said, walking at a fast clip beside me. Her voice lowered. “You know, considering your previous offenses . . .”

My chest hurt, my eyes burned, and I had zero energy to spar with her right now, so I remained silent.

“Anyway, I just wanted to catch up with you to share the big news!” She squealed and shoved a massive diamond under my nose. It looked incredibly similar to the one Vincent had offered me only three months ago, just as he’d claimed to love me. Sardonic amusement mixed with a dose of bitterness crept through my veins. If I never heard that stupid word love again, I’d be a happy woman.

I offered a half-hearted, “Congratulations,” as I walked out the front doors and into a light rain.

“Vincent and I are eloping in Barbados this winter.” Samantha halted at the edge of the overhang. “I’ll send you an invite!”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered.

I crossed my arms and headed down the sidewalk away from the hotel. The cold rain slid down my skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. I should have worn a jacket tonight. Why couldn’t I do anything right? Self-loathing churned in my stomach.

I didn’t get far before someone grabbed my arm from behind, pulled me around a corner, and pressed my back against an alley wall. His hands flattened on the wall on either side of me, trapping me.

Straight lines. Broad shoulders. Blue, burning brightly.

But I saw other things now; other memories piled up on themselves in a fight to the surface.

“You won’t forget me.”

Moya zvezdochka.

They had built into something significant enough each one twisted my heart in a cruel grip.

Attachment?

Infatuation?

It couldn’t be love.

His jaw tightened. “You left.”

“Of course, I left. I knew this wouldn’t work out from the beginning, and tonight just confirmed it.”

“This?”

My throat felt tight. “Us.”

Tension gripped him tight. Rain collected on his eyelashes. Something torturous flickered through his gaze.

“What are you saying?” The words were accented, and somehow, it tore my chest down the middle.

“You know what I’m saying.” I swallowed. “We knew this would come to an end eventually.”

His teeth clenched. “This might come to an end for you, but it will never be over for me.”

My lungs hitched, and a distressed breath escaped my lips. It rained harder, pinging off a nearby dumpster and soaking my skin. I hoped it concealed the wetness pooling in my eyes.

Why did he have to make this so hard? Was I the only one who could see we didn’t make sense?

“Why am I the only one being practical about this?”

“Because you’ve never been in this as deeply as me.” No emotion behind those words. Just cold hard fact. Though, a flicker of something passed through his eyes, something soft and soul-wrenching. Something I’d seen in my own before. Something unrequited.

“When I said this was new to me, I meant I can’t fucking think when it comes to you. I shouldn’t have said what I said, malyshka. The thought of someone touching you, taking you from me . . .” His gaze flashed with darkness. “It makes me feel fucking crazy.”