The Devil's CrownPart Two - Monica James Page 0,56
you need anything at all, ask. Whatever you need, it’s yours. I’ll ensure you get a raise for your troubles.”
“No, Mr. Popov, that’s not necessary,” she says softly. “I love Irina. I love it here.”
“And I appreciate that, which is why I want to look after you.” She knows better than to argue and simply bows in gratitude.
But I lift her chin with my pointer finger. “Don’t bow for anyone.”
She licks her lips, her cheeks flushing a scarlet pink at my command. It’s ironic, but I mean it. She needs to hold her head high. Oh, how I’ve changed.
But I can ponder on my growth when we’re on my yacht and sailing the hell away from here.
Irina’s colored crayons catch my eye, and I decide to leave her a note. I don’t want her to think I’ve abandoned her. This feels so final, but reaching for the pink crayon—Irina’s favorite color—I write in Russian on the back of one of Irina’s colored in pictures of Thomas the Tank Engine.
I promise to keep you safe. I love you with all my heart.
Folding the picture in half, I pass it to Celine. “Please give this to Irina when she wakes.”
Celine places the picture into her pocket and nods. “I’ll see you soon.”
I reply the only way I can; the only way which is the truth. “I’ll see you when I see you.”
Taking one last look at Irina, I leave her bedroom, the heavy weight in my chest threatening to suffocate me. If I don’t go now, I never will.
When I enter my bedroom, I see two bags by the door. Mine and Ella’s. “I wanted to change her clothes, but I don’t want to disturb her,” Willow says, wringing her hands in front of her.
“It’s okay. Best we let her sleep.”
I don’t know why she won’t wake. She needs medical attention, but this requires more time that we are running out of. Rushing over to the bed, I bend down and gently scoop Ella up into my arms. She whimpers but remains asleep.
Willow tears the duvet off the bed and covers Ella with it. “Be safe,” she whispers, her fear clear. We all face the unknown.
With Ella enveloped soundly in my arms, I lower my lips to Willow’s and kiss her softly. It’s not that of a lover’s kiss but rather, a kiss of love. I owe her everything.
She kisses me back chastely, and when I taste her salty tears, I pull away, wiping them away with my thumb. “I love you, дорогая. With all my heart.”
A similar sentiment to what I left for Irina.
Willow smiles and once again gifts me in ways I don’t deserve. “And I love you, Alek. Come back to us soon.”
Nodding, I walk over to Saint—my strong, loyal comrade. He is the epitome of an alpha male. I understand why Willow chose him over me. I will only ever be half the man he is. He doesn’t appear to want to rip my head off, which is why I lower my lips to his and kiss him as I did with Willow.
This is why this works. I love them equally.
He doesn’t recoil. He accepts this for what it is. It doesn’t make sense to most, but to us, it does. “And I love you, Saint.”
With a sigh, he cups the back of my neck and draws us brow to brow. It’s a brotherly embrace, and it fills my broken heart with hope. “Never underestimate my hatred for you…but I guess now…I’ve accepted that I hate to love you.”
I’m hit with his trademark fragrance—spicy, sweet, and floral—mixed with Willow’s scent of a vanilla kiss.
“And for that, I’ll eternally be grateful. Thank you. Thank you to all of you.”
We break apart, and I nod at Pavel.
Although I value our friendship, what I share with Saint and Willow is an entirely different kind of love. Besides, if I put my lips anywhere near him, he’d have no qualms slicing them off with his pocket knife.
But to me, love is love. Whether that love is with a man or a woman, there is no wrong answer when the heart is involved.
“Let’s go, Aleksei,” Pavel instructs, walking toward the door. “I’ll drive you to the port.”
Taking one last look at the two people who changed my life forever, I commit them to memory, afraid this will be the last time I see them. “Please look after Irina.”
Willow nods, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.