Beautiful Revenge (A Good Wife #1) - Sienna Blake Page 0,64
not at all to my tastes. The wallpaper is too damn fussy. I could redo all these rooms. Get them all upgraded, all styled in my own way.
Then what?
They’ll still be as soulless as they are now.
For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do. There is nothing to aim for. I have no goal, no burning ambition. Without Alena to strive for, to fight for, to live for, what do I do now?
I stumble into a small room I’ve never been in before. Heavy wooden bookcases adorn the walls, filled with books, so many books. There’s a desk facing the window overlooking the moors, a comfortable chair seated behind it.
It’s Alena’s study. I know it’s Alena’s because the scent of her perfume hangs in the air. I know because it’s the office she always wanted.
A proper wooden desk.
Stacks of paper with lines.
And pens. Lots of pens.
It’s her office.
I lower myself into the chair that she used to sit in, run my fingers across the desk. I close my eyes and let myself imagine her here, writing away.
I open my eyes. There are pages of lines written in pen scattered across the desk, more balled up in the wastebasket. I shouldn’t look through her things. It feels so private. But it makes me feel closer to her. Now that I’ve destroyed any hope of happiness with her, it’s as close to her as I can ever hope to get. I slide open each drawer, looking, seeking, like a hungry child, for a glimpse of her.
I find a stack of papers, a page on the front titled Beautiful Revenge.
Is this…a manuscript?
I pull it out, placing it on my lap as if it contains the secrets to the heavenly kingdom. I turn over the first page and begin to read.
It’s a love story. The story of Dante and Ana.
I swallow back the rising ache as I read over scenes that are too familiar to me. This is our story. Alena’s and mine.
Dante and Ana.
Dimitri and Alena.
I keep reading, half mad, half possessed, desperate to relive our lives again, even though I know how this tragedy ends.
My fingers crinkle the edge of the page as I dive into the moment that changed everything…
“I have to accept the Englishman,” I say to Natassia, the GW’s dark-haired receptionist. Even as I say these words, my voice sounds hollow. I squeeze my eyes shut. Every time I do, I see Dante on his knees in front of me. I remember my cold words to him. They spear me through my heart. I snap my eyes open and focus on Natassia’s face, her lovely features drawn into a look of concern.
She and I are sitting on a wrought-iron bench in the courtyard of Isabelle’s agency, so the girls inside can’t hear us. She is the only one here who knows the truth about Dante. That he’s not my brother. She’s promised not to tell. I don’t trust her, exactly. I don’t know her. But I had to talk to someone. I just have to hope that she keeps her word.
“What I wouldn’t give to leave this horrible place,” I spit out. “What I wouldn’t give to have a better life.” I just want to know what it’s like to be warm and fed and happy. I want to know what it means not to have to worry all the time. Is that too much to ask for? Bitter frustration bubbles up within my well of hurt. “If Dante can’t see that…he can stay here and rot, see if I care.”
Anguish surges through me again as I relive this painful moment. You said you came back, Alena. Here is proof that you threw me aside.
Wait…there’s more.
A sharp wind blows. The creak of the front gate sounds out of the passageway. Natassia slides a hand onto my shoulder. She has been so kind to me since I first came here. “If that’s how you truly feel, then go and make your slice of Heaven with the Englishman.”
I remember Dante’s face as he called me a whore. He will never agree to this arrangement. I know him, once he forms an opinion, he won’t let it go. My chest wells up with such a sharp emotion that I stop breathing for a second. “Why does Heaven seem to cost so much?” I ask, barely a whisper.
It costs me…Dante.
I have to give him up.
The thought slashes through me, a lightning strike trying to cleave my soul in