Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I make another cup of tea while keeping one eye on her, taking care to make it less hot. This time, she drinks the sweet tea without arguing. When I take the empty cup from her, she turns and walks to the bathroom without a word or a backward glance.
“Tatiana.”
She pauses on the threshold.
Any fool can see she’s shaken up. “If you let me, I can take care of you.”
She flips me off, goes into the bathroom, and shuts the door. A click announces she’s turned the lock. A moment later, the water in the shower comes on.
I let her get away for now. With everything I’m about to put her through, she’ll have more than enough to deal with later.
Chapter
Three
Tatiana
* * *
“Get your slut of a daughter out of my sight before I kill her.”
I wake up from the nightmare with a gasp, shooting upright in bed. The suffering is palpable. Like a phantom pain, the agony from the dream lingers.
Dragging in a breath, I take a moment to ground myself. I’m here, not in the dream, here… alone, in a strange bed. I wipe away the hair that sticks to my damp forehead as I get my bearings.
Then everything from yesterday comes rushing back. My body retaliates to how I’ve treated it. Like a bitter accusation, the ache between my legs intensifies.
No surprises there. The last time I’ve had sex was four and a half years ago. I haven’t even used a vibrator since. I’ve been too busy staying alive to think about any other needs than survival.
Since the day I ran for my life, my only priorities have been my baby, food, a safe place to sleep, and not getting us killed. I prided myself on keeping a level head, even in the scariest situations. I’ve done that from the day I found out I was pregnant. And now I’m paying the price for losing my shit after just a few hours in Dante Morici’s presence.
I don’t know what came over me last night. I was desperate and angry. Feelings I’ve suppressed since the events that triggered the nightmare pushed up inside me until everything boiled over.
I fucked the man who ruined me and destroyed my life. What did I hope to achieve? I wanted to pull all the beautiful seconds out of my memory by the roots, rip them apart, and crush them under my feet. I wanted to desecrate the magical moments we’d once shared and trample them until all that remained from the romantic red roses and candlelight was a bloody pulp and cold, gray ashes. I wanted to take the false pretty and show it for the ugly truth it had always been.
For years, I’ve mourned what Dante and I had lost, the perfectly happy life we could’ve had. Regret prevented me from pulling the trigger, but I’ve learned from that mistake. I’ve learned that a part of my love survived in the shape of grief inside me, secretly thriving like a treacherous parasite in the shadows of my heart where my brain and the surgical blade of logic couldn’t reach it.
Maybe the kind of love I had for Dante is too powerful to snuff out completely. Like the residue of a potent poison, perhaps it will flow in my veins forever. I don’t have a word for what we had. It was too big to simply call it a relationship. It was bigger than him, me, and life itself.
But while that unnamable connection was everything to me, it was nothing but a means to an end to him. That’s why I tried to destroy those sad, beautiful, undying memories of gentle lovemaking and soft caresses. It’s the only way to exorcise him once and for all so that I can finally move on and heal. That’s to say if getting over a man like Dante is even possible.
Dante never pretended to be a kind man. However, he did pretend to be the man I needed, a man I could rely on, and he’d proved himself a heartless liar. But he also gave me Noah, and as much as I hate Dante, I will never regret the beautiful gift of my sweet baby boy.
The closing of a door somewhere in the suite pulls me from my thoughts. It’s dark in the room. The only light comes from the bathroom where the door is slightly ajar. I reach over and switch on the lamp on the nightstand. As there’s no clock in the room, I have no idea what time it is. There’s a phone, but I already know it’s dead before I lift the receiver and press it against my ear.
No line.
Dante will never be negligent enough to leave me alone with a functioning landline in the room.
I replace the receiver on the hook and look at the empty place next to me. The pillow is dented, and the covers are thrown aside. Dante slept here. Next to me. Despite the circumstances, the irony makes me smile a bitter, rueful smile. I would’ve laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious.