“I forgive you,” I say, my voice broken by the pain I’m holding back.
His lips press softly against my forehead, a tender kiss, the goodbye we didn’t have the night I made him leave.
“You shouldn’t.”
“I like doing things I shouldn’t.”
Soft laughter, a begrudging sigh, his thumb sweeping softly down the line of my jaw. “You’ve told me before, and trust me, I know.”
Ari moves to step away, but desperation shoots my hand out, my fingers fisting his pants, refusing to let go.
“You used to ask me what I see when I sleep.”
Turning enough to look down at me, he says nothing.
“I see you, Ari. I always have.”
His hand covers mine, tugs it from where I hold onto him. “It’ll hurt when you wake up. But you’ll survive it. You’ve always been a fighter.”
He’s gone after that, the room empty, my heart shattering apart.
I slip into the oblivion only he can give me, my thoughts whispering it’s just a dream.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s really all it is.
Ari
Fucking hell, I hate the cold. Mostly when it’s wet, the chill sinking into my bones, freezing them so thoroughly that it’s impossible to move without pain creeping across every muscle, stretching the tendons until they’re ready to snap.
Shouldering the strap of my bag, I walk briskly along a dirt path, the trees above my head doing fuck all to block the drizzle of sleet that will only get worse as the storm moves in.
Despite how I hate it, I couldn’t have asked for better weather. It’s just one more barrier preventing anybody from stumbling onto a scene that I’ve been looking forward to for the past six months.
The cabin door creaks as I let myself in. A vacation spot rich assholes use to reacquaint themselves with nature, it’s secluded and silent in a stretch of woods an hour outside of city limits.
I couldn’t have picked a better place myself, but thankfully I didn’t have to. When the paper trail is followed, it won’t be my door the police are knocking on.
A soft glow draws my eyes to a room off the main hallway. Following it, I survey the room as I step in, my voice a cold fury as I ask, “What part of don’t let him damage a hair on her head did you not understand?”
Brown eyes tip up to mine, a brow cocking arrogantly.
“He moved faster than I expected. It all worked out, though. The little monster is fine, and we have what we want.”
I glare at Lincoln, resisting the urge to knock his ass out for letting Adeline get hurt.
“I gave you one job. One.”
He grumbles, his eyes sliding left to stare at the other asshole in the room.
“You can waste your time fighting me, or you can do what we came here to do. After the amount of time we’ve waited, I assume you’d like to get started.”
The strap of my bag slips from my shoulder when I drop the heavy weight to the floor, my gaze sliding to Grant Cabot where he slumps forward in his seat, his hands and ankles tied, his body bound to the chair.
The son of a bitch has a world of pain coming, not only for what he’s done to Adeline, both physically and mentally, but for making me wait as long as he has.
I’m a patient man - to a point - but this particular piece of shit has been playing games that bought him far too much time.
We’ve known he was planning something. A man like Grant Cabot doesn’t sit back and take public embarrassment lightly.
He handled it well, surprisingly. Turning the tables on Adeline and the elusive Harrison Nash put me in a position where I had to cover my bases quickly, pick up and muddy any trails that could lead to my true identity.
Leaving the penthouse had been the first step, just in case Adeline broke when questioned. I didn’t go far, however. Simply moved to another luxury high-rise a few blocks over.
But it was enough that if she did finally give in and reveal what she knows, they would find an empty space that had been leased under an assumed name, the trail for that leading to another foreign country and a fake business setup.
I know you might think I’m a dick for what I did to her when I left, the way I did it. And you can fuck off with that opinion. You don’t know her like I do. You don’t understand