Page 25

I’m flooded with nerves. Drowning in them.

I can’t believe it’s finally today—the day I can see her again—the day she is sitting right next to me in the car. I’ve been waiting, impatiently, for this exact moment and now that it’s finally here I am dumbfounded and can barely speak.

I steal a glance over at her and our eyes meet. Aly looks away quickly, her cheeks flushing rosy pink again. She is far too beautiful. Even more beautiful than I remember, and I only remember the purest of beauty from her. How can I slip even deeper in love with her just with one glance?

A smile creeps onto my lips, but I push it away.

Just because she agreed to come with me does not mean that she will have forgiven me. Her being here in my car doesn’t mean anything until after I’ve spoken with her.

My stomach is knotted so tightly with nervous energy I can hardly focus on anything but her—so close to me—after all this time. Her hair is dancing in the breeze from the slightly open window and the scent of her—that beautiful familiar scent—has filled my entire car. It’s soaked into my skin and it’s caressing me.

She’s right next to me after I have spent so long trying to come to terms with the fact that I would most likely never see her again.

That morning when Ruslana barged into my home and forced me to sober up—it pulled me back into myself. It made me stop and take a very serious look at what was going on with me and what I had to do to change things. Or at least—to try to change things. To fight for what I wanted. And there is only one thing I want—more than anything else.

I came up with a plan to try to win her back.

The worst part of my plan was approaching Avraam. It required me to set my pride aside, to lower my ego down to the fucking floor to explain to him how I felt about Aly. It took a while to break through his fierce exterior, but Ruslana was there to help.

It was difficult though, to grovel to him, to beg him to understand my heart.

But it was worth it.

Everything and anything is worth it to get her back into my life.

Or just for that chance.

It all just took longer than I had hoped it would and I need her to understand why. I couldn’t just walk back into her life and declare that I was in love with her—I had to show her who I am—in a different way to the way I showed her the first time. The way I chased her away. It wasn’t truthful. It was half a story that I manipulated to push her.

I had to find a way to make that story right. To make it honest.

“Rigor—what is going on?” she asks quietly, staring out of the car window and not turning to look at me. Her voice is shaking slightly, filled with tension or worry. Or perhaps those are tears drifting on her words.

“You’ll see,” I sigh, not answering because it’s easier to show her than to try to explain. I never was too good with words. “We are almost there.” I try to reassure her.

She huffs and clenches her jaw. Her hands twist in her lap. Her body is tense. Almost as tense as mine.

I wish I could tell her how I feel, I wish I could come up with words as beautiful as those in the movies—to steal her heart away with one line.

But it will take a lot more than one line to win her back.

And I am willing to be patient—and keep trying until I can. Or until she makes it clear that I can’t.

Even then—will that stop me? I don’t know.

For the rest of the drive we are quiet and the tension in the car hangs heavily in the air, creating a barrier between us that makes me even more nervous.

She looks confused when we pull up outside my mansion. But she doesn’t say anything. Aly sits in the seat, not moving until I come around and open her door for her. Then she follows me up the stairs towards the front door. Pushing it open I gesture for her to step inside.

She stands in the foyer, looking around as though this place has meaning for her. Her eyes are dark with emotions. I don’t know if being back here is good for her, or if she’s struggling with the memory of everything that happened. Everything that I did to her.

I close the front door behind us and gently take her hand, half expecting her to pull away from me, but she doesn’t.

We walk up the stairs, me leading her up to my home office on the first floor.

When she steps inside, her face is a tight knot of confusion and perhaps even annoyance. I feel her fingers clench tightly as she pulls her hand out of mine.

She looks across the paperwork spread over my desk and shakes her head, her eyes narrowed, and her nose scrunched.

She doesn’t understand yet.

I push her into the chair and click the laptop on, gesturing towards the folders on the desktop.

“Look,” I say, filled with hope.

She looks over them, biting her lip.

Then she glances up at me, questions in her eyes. She still doesn’t understand. Dammit.

Leaning over her shoulder, catching another breath of her beautiful scent, I click on one of the folders to open it. Documents pop up on screen.

“Look,” I say, stepping back a little because being that close to her is clouding my ability to think clearly.

She takes her time reading a little while I stand behind her, letting my eyes wandering over her back, along the delicate curve of her neck and shoulder and across the wavy warmth of her chocolate colored hair—but then turns to me and huffs in annoyance and confused frustration.

“Are you asking me to get back to working for you? To do the paperwork?” she asks hurriedly, sounding almost disappointed.

“No.” I shake my head, realizing I am messing this up horribly. “This,” I say with more force, pointing to a specific line in the document. “And this .” I point to a video.

She sighs, pulling the corner of her lip up. She’s getting impatient with me. I step back again and wait nervously.

Aly reads the line. I am frozen in silence.

She clicks on the video. It plays silently, and the air becomes more charged by the second.

Ghastly images flash across the screen of men rushing into a room, killing every adult in sight. It’s gory and violent and bloody and terrifying. But once the shooting stops those same men start moving around that same room—opening cages and freeing young children—filthy, stained, covered in blood, crying—the children rush out of the cages and clutch onto the legs of the men, dressed head to toe in combat gear. Some of the men lift children into their arms, others guide the children out of the room and out of the camera view.

“One of those men—is me,” I sigh, letting her know what I am capable of.

After a long moment she turns towards me. “Is this the child trafficking ring?” she asks.

“That was our team attacking and taking down one of the warehouses of the men who run the child trafficking ring. Yes. We have taken down several of them over the past month.”

Her mouth drops open slightly.

She’s speechless. I don’t know if she understands what I’m trying to say yet.

“Aly those kids are safe now. We have, so far, gotten a total of fifty-eight children into safe houses and with foster families—or back with their own families if it was the right place for them to be. We think we have taken down the entire operation but we’re still scouting and making sure—just in case. Uh—look the reason I’m showing you this is that I wanted you to see what I’ve been doing for the past two months.”

“Ok,” she says cautiously, turning towards me. “This is amazing, Rigor—that you saved those children—that they are safe—”

“Ok, yes, but I wanted you to understand why I didn’t contact you sooner. I was busy with this . It wasn’t because I didn’t want to speak to you. You’ve been on my mind every moment of every day. To be honest, I can’t stop thinking about you—even if I wanted to.”

She stands up, stepping closer to me, tilting her head and listening.

I take a deep breath. “Aly, I can’t change who I am.” I gesture towards the paused video. “These are the type of things I have to do. I killed those men in that video—I’m Bratva and there isn’t anything I can do to change that about myself. But I wanted to try to show you that I am trying to do good in this world—in whatever way that I can. Even though I am a bad person—I am a good person.” My voice is tight around my words. It’s sometimes hard for me to believe I am a good person. It’s even harder to believe that she would see it.

“I know you’re a good person, Rigor,” she whispers. “You don’t have to do things to prove that to me.”

I chew the inside of my cheek. Looking down at her, into those beautiful, dreamy brown eyes. “That goodness you see in me—that glimpse of faith you have in me—I want to be that man. I want to be that person for you. I want to deserve you, Aly.”

I reach out, my heart beating so loud in my ears that I am convinced she can hear it as well.

My fingers trace over the softness of her cheek, my fingertips sparking against her skin, charged and static. Sharp with anticipation.

She smiles and looks down for a moment, when her eyes look back up at me my heart leaps and twists with genuine hope. For the first time I see light in her gaze. I see Aly. My Aly.

“Rigor—what are you trying to say?” she demands that slight smile teasing me.

“I—“ I struggle to piece together everything. Wanting to explain everything that’s in my heart, everything she makes me feel and everything I feel for her. But it’s too much to put into words and I can’t get the feeling to translate into something coherent.

And after tripping over my thoughts all I can say is, “ I love you, Aly. This is my way of trying to tell you that I love you.”

She blinks, her long dark lashes flutter over her dark eyes. She looks up at me and stars are shining in them.

She giggles, that beautiful sound shivering through me like summer rain in the mid-heat of day. Like a cool breeze carrying the scent of chocolate and ice-cream and sunblock. Fresh cut grass and wild jasmine flowers. Camp fires and clear, flowing rivers brushing over fallen pine needles. She feels like everything beautiful in this world. Everything perfect. Everything that makes me smile.

She laughs and her lips curl into the most perfect smile in the universe.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” she whispers.

Aly steps even closer to me, pressing herself against my chest. I take in a sharp breath. Does she really mean that?

The heat of our bodies begins to mix and with it comes an intense current of desire, but deeper than desire, it’s thick, making my heart race as love floods me. Genuine, untamed and unrestrained love.

I wrap my arms around her waist and lean my lips close to hers.

“That’s all you needed to hear?” I whisper in disbelief.

Her breath is warm against my mouth when she answers, “I only need to know that you love me—the rest—I already knew, Rigor. I already see you. I see who you are, and I choose you. I chose you before I left—but I think you didn’t want to see it. I think—”

Her words make me swallow back tears of relief.

“I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that someone like you would love someone like me.”

“I love you.” She smiles. “I choose you.”

She chooses me.

For exactly who I am.

She loves me.

For exactly who I am.

I lift her off her feet, wrapping her legs around my waist and my fingers around her jaw as I hold her head in place and tilt her mouth towards mine. Her lips part and I lock my mouth over hers.

Kissing her is like a dream come true.

For a moment I might believe I am sleeping, and this isn’t real.

But she feels more than real in my arms. She feels like life itself. Flooding into me, bringing me back from the brink of death—the void of numb, empty existence and endless pain. Aly kisses me and light floods through my body.

Sparks shoot between us like stars, connecting the dots of our story which is only just beginning.