Page 10

Camilla Vivaldi

Within seconds, I regret covering myself with blankets. I should have gone into the bathroom and slammed and locked the door. Now I’m trapped in an inferno of my own making.

Silent tears trail down my face, but I tell myself they’re just sweat and it’s easy to pretend they are since I’m sweltering underneath all the layers.

I don’t even know why I’m crying. My jumbled emotions give me no answers, and neither do my swimming thoughts.

He lost a child and a wife. All this time, I’ve been mourning things I only had distant dreams for, but he had people he loved stolen away from him. It’s tragic and unfair.

I shouldn’t care about his woes. Maybe I’m just raw from admitting how disgusting I am. I’ve never said the word rape out loud before or told anyone about that night. I may not have told him everything, but why did he have to be the person I made myself so vulnerable to?

I hate it. I should hate him.

But I can’t. He’s been so gentle and kind to me. My broken desperation probably made me look deeper into it than I realized.

I angrily wipe my tears and nearly lose it again as I brush the scars on my cheek, but I ball my hands into fists and create a small gap in the blankets to breathe through as I replay my mantra in my head.

I am safe. I am alive. I am loved. I am healing.

Despite already sleeping better today than I have since the attack, exhaustion sucks me down into a deep slumber. When my nightmares inevitably return, a dark, smooth voice leads me away from the monsters, and I escape their grasps into a lake of peace.

I rise like a diver breaking the surface, gasping for breath and disoriented.

My entire body shakes from the sudden change, and I bite back a groan as my pain receptors wake, overloading my brain with sensations.

The constant ache in my joints and emptiness in my abdomen plague me, but I shove them to the recesses of my mind knowing there is nothing I’m willing to do to alleviate the pain, since I refuse to admit how horrible they are.

The coffee machine gurgles beside the sink. Early morning light leaks in from under the curtains. Dimitri sits in the only usable chair, sipping out of a disposable cup. He glances down at the steaming liquid and grimaces but takes another drink.

I scrub my hands over my face before swinging my feet to the floor and stumbling into the bathroom. When I shuffle out to wash my hands in the sink, I avoid looking at my reflection until after I splash water on my face.

I trace the outline left by the bandage and realize I never applied makeup after showering. Discomfort flows through me.

After running my wet hands through my hair and securing it in a messy ponytail, I dry my face with a few paper towels, open my purse, and don my armor, but my normal relief at covering the scars doesn’t rise. Without even interacting with him, my fallen guardian angel invades my thoughts.

He demands I marry him, but he doesn’t know I can’t give him what he wants. Grief may swamp him now, but he’ll want children eventually.

He’ll grow to resent me when he learns the truth, and if just the thought of him hating me sours my mood, then I should stay far away from him.

“When are we meeting my brother?” I ask as I finish my eyeliner.

“In a few hours,” he answers.

My stomach flips as his smooth voice curls around my insides and fills me with warmth. I focus on applying mascara.

“When are we leaving?” I ask.

“Whenever you are ready,” he rumbles.

I close my eyes and screw the lid back onto my mascara, telling myself to get it together, but my libido insists on waking.

“Is this coffee for me?” I ask as I pull my lip liner from my purse.

“Da, but I can make you tea if you prefer,” he all but purrs.

My fingers shake as I bring the pencil to my lips. I take a deep breath and lean closer to the mirror.

His hungry eyes drink me in from across the room. He lifts his gaze to mine in the mirror, unapologetic and honest in his desires but making no move to act on them.

Flames roar from my toes to the top of my head, the flash of lust so strong, I wonder if I’ve ever known true arousal before.

My pupils dilate in my reflection. I sweep skeptical eyes over myself and scoff. Wearing sweats with my hair in a messy ponytail and my lips unpainted, I look far from appealing.

Maybe he just hasn’t been around a woman since his wife died, so he thinks he’s attracted to me when he really isn’t. He’ll move on the moment he finds someone prettier.

Cold fury spears through me.

I apply my lip liner with steady hands.

“Coffee is fine,” I lie.

I’ve avoided caffeine since long before I landed my dream modeling job, but it hasn’t helped me at all, has it?

I smear on a layer of lipstick and drop both into my purse before closing it and swinging it onto my shoulder.

My first sip of coffee burns my tongue. I blow across the top of the disposable cup and lean against the wall before taking another cautious sip.

Dimitri watches me with eerie intensity. I ignore him and enjoy the bitter brew and heat as I fill my stomach with the scorching liquid. Halfway through the cup, energy rushes through my veins, but it’s too jittery, so I set the cup on the counter and grab a sandwich wrap from the fridge.

After a few bites, I toss the rest in the trash and announce I’m ready to leave.

Dimitri rises from the chair. My heart stutters. He’s so big. A sliver of fear travels down my spine.

He leans over the corner of the bed, lifts my larger bag off the floor, and swings his pack onto his shoulder before peeking through the curtain and scanning the parking lot.

“Stay close, so?lnyshka . My brother knows I am in town now,” he announces.

My insides clench and I struggle to keep the food and coffee down.

I nod and follow him out into the sunlight. We walk a full circle around the car before he opens my door for me. After I settle in my seat, he asks for the hotel key, so I fish it out of my purse and place it on his palm.

My fingertips brush against his smooth flesh even though he waits to close his hand until I pull back.

He meets my gaze. My stomach drops. Hunger lurks in his sky-blue eyes. Fire roars in my veins.

He shuts the door and places our gear in the trunk before driving to the front desk. As I wait in the car alone, dread pulses in my chest.

I should ask him where we’re going, but I don’t want the answer. Staying in the moment is the only way I’ll survive until we meet with my siblings.

Fuck. He’s going to ask my brother for my hand in marriage, isn’t he? He’s going to strike some deal thinking I can provide him an heir, or worse, because he thinks he owes my family for the damages his brother caused.

I don’t need rescuing or revenge or anything except my sister and my niece.

I’m not being fair. My brother may have been absent during the first few months of my trauma, but since he got his head out of his ass, he’s been nothing but supportive. He won’t marry me off the way our parents forced both him and Serenity to wed for power.

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth when Dimitri returns.

He’ll learn soon enough I’m not wife material, so I blindly stare out the window as he drives deeper into the city.

When he stops in front of a familiar jewelry store, alarm streaks through me.

He steps out and shows the valet his keys but turns and opens my door without handing them over.

“I’m not getting out,” I say.

He leans down to eye level with me, bringing his face so close his low words only reach my ears.

“Even if you will not marry me, we must make others think you will. Feliks will see,” he says.

Fear stiffens my spine, but Perla’s tiny fist wrapped around my thumb flashes through my mind’s eye.

“You want to make him angry,” I half accuse, half consider.

“I want him furious, so let’s make a big show , da? ”

“Why?” I ask.

I know from firsthand experience how horrible his brother can be to his enemies, so the last thing I want to do is earn more of his ire, but if putting myself in danger is the only way to protect my family, then I’ll do it.

“He does not react well to insult,” Dimitri says.

I need no more encouragement, even though it doesn’t seem likely that Feliks would be offended after how he discarded me. Dimitri’s previous words echo in my mind—this isn’t about me, it’s about Feliks thinking his plan failed.

I twist and lower my feet to the ground.

Dimitri steps back. I clear my throat. He shifts his unyielding gaze down to me.

“Give me your hand,” I force myself to say.

Even as my insides quail, I slip my hand into his and use his strength to rise. Surprise and approval soften his gaze before he dons the stony mask of a bratva assassin.

Despite the brief contact, I need a moment to recover, so I fix the hem of my sweatshirt and step toward the trunk to escape from between Dimitri’s massive body and the car. He hands the key fob to the valet and returns to my side.

I clutch my purse and walk beside him for a few steps before we pivot around the back of the car.

“Your arm,” I hiss.

He offers me his elbow. I slip my hand between his torso and his arm and rest my fingertips in the crook of his elbow, touching him as little as possible while appearing affectionate.

My confidence drains as I catch our reflection in the window, but I roll my shoulders back as he leads me into the jewelry store.

I don’t recognize everyone in the store, but by the furtive glances and whispers behind their hands, they know who I am.

Busy for the time of day, I struggle to breathe as Dimitri meanders around the other couples as though we do this every day together.

I used to wear accessories every day as a model, but now the last thing I want is to be the center of attention, so I barely glance at the products as we stroll past.

My bladder complains. I drank too much coffee.

“I need the restroom,” I murmur just loud enough for Dimitri to hear.