Page 22

SISI

H ow does one go from promising to never let me go one day, to completely ignoring me the next?

I'm so frustrated I'm ready to throw my hands in the air. I'd prided myself on being able to read Vlad pretty well, and I'd even found myself believing his apology and his assurances about waiting for me.

But now? It's like he's done a complete one eighty.

A few days ago he was offering me his heart on a platter—literally. Admittedly, it was a very sweet gesture that had made me melt just the tiniest bit. But now he barely acknowledges my presence.

Truthfully, after his many displays of opulent gifts and surprises, I'd started to become a bit curious about what he'd do next. Well, consider me completely surprised when I'd opened my door to nothing.

Is that it?

Did he think that because we had one civil conversation he's already forgiven? Or that he doesn't have to make an effort anymore? If that is the case, then he is in for a surprise.

I might be softening toward him just a little, but that doesn't mean that all is forgiven. In fact, if he ever wants me to believe a word he says again, then he better put in the work to prove that he is trustworthy.

Granted, there's a special place in my soul just for him, and I can't deny the way he keeps on making my heart skip a beat just by being closer. Couple that with his sweet gestures and he'd managed to impress me.

I certainly would not have pegged him as the romantic type, but he's gone above and beyond to show me that he can be.

But the issue is not whether he can impress me with out-of-this-world gestures—though the heart had been a nice touch—but whether I can really trust his actions.

And seeing how quickly he's given up, I don't know if that is the case.

I've had enough time to ponder his behavior and his Jekyll and Hyde personality, and I've only come up with more questions.

Why now?

Was it his pride that took a hit at the thought of me marrying another man? Since we've long established that he cannot feel anything, then what is his motivation?

And that's my entire issue. If he could feel even a glimmer of the love I have for him, then I would not hesitate in giving him a second chance.

But because I know him incapable of any type of feeling, I cannot risk my heart again.

Not when his fickle mind might tell him to drop me again at any moment.

A couple of days of his bipolar behavior and I'm already sick of it. And so I find myself marching for his room, ready to demand an answer from him.

"Vlad," I call him when I see him exit his room in a hurry. He looks at me for a second before blinking and shaking his head.

"I'll see you later." Is all he says as he flies past me.

What?

And just like that he's gone, leaving me alone once again.

I'm speechless for a full minute as I stare at the space he's just vacated, unable to come up with an explanation for his confusing behavior.

"Damn you," I mutter, ready to turn back and waste even more time in my room by myself. By chance, though, I notice that he didn't lock his door, and the curiosity is already killing me as I catch a few glimpses of it.

I'd seen it before, but it had been rather bare. Now, in comparison, I can see it's teeming with stuff.

I don't even think twice as I enter the room, my gaze quickly appraising its contents.

There's his bed, and I avoid looking more than necessary lest I start imagining him sleeping there at night… no clothes… the sheets sliding over…

Damn!

I force myself to ignore the way my heart pounds in my chest at the thought.

Why is it that only he can make me feel like this?

In the last three months I'd had more freedom, thanks to Marcello's perpetual absence from home and Raf's companionship. We'd gone out a number of times, and I saw plenty of conventionally attractive men on the streets or at restaurants. Not once did I feel anything but boredom.

I'm convinced that there's something not quite ordinary about Vlad that calls to me like this—it's simply unnatural, the way my body simply sings in his presence, my entire being soaring, bathed in an unprecedented type of lightness.

For all the heartache he's caused me, he should not make me feel like this—like I'm only whole when he is around.

It's like I was made for him, and him alone.

Shaking myself from my musings, I peruse the other contents of his room. There's a desk with a computer, a few black bags filled to the brim with things, and then there's his closet.

So many options.

Of course, knowing him, my first inclination is to go look at his computer, even while doubting it would be unlocked.

I pull the chair, making myself comfortable at the desk and I move my finger a little on the touchpad, bringing the screen back to life.

My eyes widen.

Unlocked.

Damn, but he'd been in such a hurry he'd even left his computer unlocked. It makes me wonder where he needed to go, and to whom.

Fists clenched, I take a deep breath as I make myself focus on the treasure in front of me. Maybe it's not entirely right for me to snoop, but since I'm technically his prisoner, I think we're past moral dilemmas at this point.

I look around his desktop, noting a multitude of apps all haphazardly scattered around.

Of course he would be messy.

Not recognizing any, I just pull up his browser. Immediately, tens of tabs appear on the screen.

"What?" I narrow my eyes at the various titles.

Women 101.

Ten ideas to court a woman.

Get her heart and keep it.

I keep clicking on tab after tab, all having somewhat the same content.

How to impress your crush.

The man's guide to women.

I can't even keep a straight face as I read through the articles, some of the ideas absolutely ludicrous. Like play hard to get.

Wait…

"Surely not." The corners of my mouth pull up as I realize exactly what Vlad's been doing. There are quite a few articles that suggest ignoring one's love interest to make them react and chase back. The more I read—including highlighted passages—the more I start chuckling, the irony superb.

"Damn, Vlad." I shake my head at the monitor.

I should have realized that someone with his limited social skills and nonexistent emotional intelligence would not be able to come up with courting strategies on his own. Why, he's been reading up guides on how to impress me.

"Why is this so cute?" I mutter, unable to wipe the grin off of my face.

He's been seriously researching this topic, and when I look further into his history, I see he's even gotten books on the subject.

Just out of curiosity, I open his eBook library, not surprised to find it full of books on dating and women psychology. Even more surprising, though, is how thorough he's been. There are notes to go with each book, and hundreds if not thousands of passages highlighted.

Including the so-called playing hard to get.

Suddenly, everything makes sense. He's been putting a lot of effort in this, misguided as it might be. And I can't help but be impressed and a little flattered.

My mood brightens, and I quickly close the computer, curious to see what else he's hiding in his room.

First, I check the big bags stashed in the corner of his room. Opening one, I note a multitude of boxes, one on top of the other.

Going through some of them, I realize it's gifts he never gave me—shoes and handbags.

Another black bag and I note more fashion items, from clothes, to perfume to everything you could possibly imagine.

"Does he really think these things can buy my forgiveness?" I mutter, shaking my head. While I don't really care for most of the things he's bought, I can't help but melt a little—just a little—at the effort he's put in.

When I've snooped in all the bags, I open his wardrobe, curious about what lies inside. A few more clothes than the last time I'd been in here, but other than that…

I still, blinking repeatedly as if I can't quite believe what I'm seeing. Taking a few steps, I reach the back of the wardrobe, coming face to face with a human-sized teddy bear. In fact, it's practically the same height I am.

It can't be…

Blue with a pink ribbon, the bear looks eerily like the one I'd seen months back, during my first visit at a shopping center.

It had stayed with me because I'd never seen such a big toy before, and it was blue— my favorite color.

The pink ribbon had only made it more endearing and I remember spending some time just admiring it, barely working up the courage to touch it.

It had reminded me of everything I'd ever wanted growing up, but never received—most of all, it had reminded me of comfort.

I don't know why. Maybe it was the hue of the blue, or the softness of the material, but for a brief moment I'd wanted it more than anything. Of course, I hadn't gone through with buying it, since why would a grown woman need a bear?

But to see it here…

My gaze strays even lower, and I recognize the teddy bear I'd ripped in front of Vlad the other day. This one, a different shade of blue, is only slightly bigger than my hand.

I frown, suddenly realizing something. All the bears had been blue, or at least a shade of blue.

Picking it up, I almost feel bad for committing bearicide, but as I pat him over, trying to locate the tear I'd caused, I realize there's none.

Instead, there's a black, ugly jagged line starting from the bottom of the bear and going up to its neck—holding the seams together.

He didn't…

I don't know why this of all things makes my eyes burn with unshed tears, but as I rummage more through the back of the closet, I find a small sewing kit.

He did.

And I'm suddenly more confused than ever.

Why would someone who has no feelings care about something as trite as this?

"What the…" I can't help but stare at the small bear, and the poor yet endearing attempt to put it back together.

Why would someone who kills people in cold blood care about a stupid teddy bear?

Numbly walking back into the room, I'm still holding on to the bear, my thoughts a big, jumbled mess.

Now, more than ever, I can't seem to get any proper read on Vlad.

There's so much contradicting information that I don't know what to believe anymore. He's putting too much effort into this for someone who supposedly doesn't care.

My treacherous heart hones in on that thought, and I cannot stop myself from hoping.

I need to get to the bottom of this… before I get my heart broken again.

My mind made up, I decide to wait and confront him. After all, it's the only thing I can do that will ensure I'm not simply building scenarios in my head.

Because I've learned already that misplaced hope hurts the most. And I don't want to fall prey to it again.

I decide to wait around until he comes home, alternating between snooping some more and rolling around in his big bed, unashamedly inhaling the scent off his sheets.

A small nap and a lot of boredom later, it's already night. I'm very close to giving up when the door to the room swings open, Vlad coming in.

He doesn't even notice me at first, intent on taking his clothes off.

"Fuck, you startled me," he says when I turn on the lamp on his desk, raising an eyebrow at him. Slowly getting up, I place myself in front of him, not willing to give him any opening to avoid me this time.

"We need to talk," I say.

"We do?" he asks, confused.

"Yes," I confirm, crossing my arms in front of me. "You need to stop avoiding me." I go straight to the chase.

"I'm not avoiding you," he immediately starts denying it, but I won't have it. Instead, I place my finger on his lips, enjoying the way his eyes widen—especially now that the roles are reversed for the first time.

"Yes, you are. And you need to stop taking advice from the internet. I doubt they know what they're saying," I continue.

"Wh…" He tries to speak, but I shake my head at him, not done.

"No more games, Vlad. Let's put our cards on the table for once and for all."

His hand comes up, capturing my wrist as he brings it to his lips, his tongue peeking out to lick the sensitive area. My pulse quickens, but I refuse to let myself be seduced.

"Vlad." I push my chin up, my eyes challenging him to take me seriously.

"You snooped." Is all he says, his eyes holding me captive with their intensity. There's no condemnation in his gaze, no hint that he's mad at my snooping. So I just nod.

"You're going about this all wrong," I tell him, wrenching my hand away and taking a seat on the bed. "You don't need to try tricks like playing hard to get. " I roll my eyes at him and he has the decency to look embarrassed at my words.

"We can just have a serious conversation. I'm all ears," I say, happy I've managed to remain so composed.

He looks at me for a few seconds before slowly nodding and coming to sit next to me.