Beautiful Revenge (A Good Wife #1) - Sienna Blake Page 0,25

together by loose bolts. I curse these heels. It takes everything in me not to stumble. To just focus on the next step.

We say nothing, the whole way. My head has never been filled with so many questions.

Where have you been? How did you get here? How did you find me?

The air around us has never been so thick with words.

I missed you. I’m sorry. I love you. I always will.

We reach the guest room in the west wing on the top floor, the one my husband instructed that he occupy. I push open the navy-painted door and step aside.

He steps right up to me, his nearness causing my body to heat and my head to go lightheaded. “Please,” his eyes bore into mine, “after you.”

He wants me to come inside his room?

Of course. We’ll be alone inside. At last. We can talk. After five years I will get to say everything I have been longing to say. They all cram up into my throat. I swallow down a knot of anticipation and step into the room.

It’s a glorious large room with high ceilings, king-sized bed, the décor styled in a rich navy and gold. A grey light streams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows that span across the outer wall.

The door slams shut behind us like a gunshot. I flinch.

Dimitri and I are alone.

Alone.

His presence is like a fire on my back. I need relief and yet, I yearn for him to move closer. The floor creaks as he takes a step towards me. My body explodes into shivers.

“This is the best guest room in the house,” I ramble, my hands gripping the front of my dress to stop them from shaking. “It has a beautiful south-facing terrace overlooking the manicured back gardens and the moors on our estate. It gets quite a lot of sun. Well, for England.”

“Stop pretending, Alena. I know you remember me.”

I spin. The sight of him standing so close before me makes my heart beat a riot in my chest. “Oh, Dimi,” I breathe, moving towards him.

He holds up a hand, his lips lifting in a sneer. “I remember you.”

I halt as his harsh tone lashes through me. My mind tries to wrap around this development. Why is he speaking like that? “Dimi?”

“Don’t call me that. I am Mr Wolf to you.”

My blood drains in my limbs. There is no need for pretences now that we’re alone. This is his true self, his real feelings. He’s never forgiven me for our fight all those years ago. My piecemeal heart breaks all over again. “You… You can’t mean that.”

“Why, Alena,” he steps forward, closing the gap between us, “do my words hurt you?”

I hate that despite how cruelly he glares at me, I still want to hold him. I want to brush the scorn off his face, to rub my hands over his cold heart and bring it back to life.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you here?”

He leans in. His hot, sweet breath caressing my cheeks. “Why do you think?”

I shake my head, trying to clear my mind from the fog that descends over me with his nearness. “You want to hear how sorry I am? You want—?”

“I want a lot of things. None of which you deserve to be privy to anymore.” He leans in. “Let me give you a hint. I’m not here for a soppy heartfelt reunion.”

I can’t believe this. What’s happened to you, Dimitri? “You can’t possibly still feel—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I can or can’t feel, Mrs Worthington.” The way he says my married title is so full of bitterness.

“Don’t fucking touch me, you whore.”

His words slap me across my face. “Don’t you dare call me that. I’m not—”

“Marrying a man for money? Fucking a stranger for money? Don’t kid yourself at what you will become if you do this.”

My vision blurs through tears. I’m not a whore. I’m desperate. We’re desperate. Why can’t he see that this is our way out of this bitter hell.

“Go,” he says, shoving me towards the door. “Go and marry your rich husband. Hopefully you won’t disgust him the way you disgust me.”

I grit my teeth. He thinks I’m a whore. “It wasn’t my fault that—”

“I don’t want to hear your pathetic excuses. You said all I needed to hear all those years ago.”

I’m not the only one who made mistakes. He was the one who left me. He is so stubborn that he will never admit his faults. So