I’d let her go.
Thirty-Six
Two Days Later
Milan
There was a quiet knock at the bedroom door, and before I could stop my heart from lifting, the joy, elation at the thought it might be him had it soaring.
Only to come crashing down as quickly as it had risen, then lifting again, if only a little. The roller coaster of emotion should have been dizzying, but I was used to it by now.
He had made himself clear, and in the two days since we had spoken last, there had been nothing to change that. Though I knew him to be a man of his word, I couldn’t make myself believe him. Wishful thinking, perhaps, that same irrational faith that had pulled me deeper and deeper into all of this. I couldn’t say what it was that wouldn’t let me believe, but I didn’t.
Because that same feeling I’d had when I’d first glimpsed him, the one that had only grown stronger, was still with me now. And that feeling had never steered me wrong, had never let me down, and I had to trust it wouldn’t now.
Cold, methodical Priest might have made a decision, but Nikolai was in there somewhere, and he would come for me. I just had to wait.
Not that doing so was easy, especially in the face of so little evidence. I’d replayed our conversation in my head, examined my memory of every expression for some hint that maybe he would come to his senses. I hadn’t remembered one, and he’d given me nothing else. I hadn’t seen him, heard him since that conversation. Which should have been impossible, even in a home of this size, given there were only two of us here.
But he had managed to avoid me completely.
I didn’t know whether I was more sad or pissed off about that.
He’d just come in, completely changed my life, made me love him, and now he was leaving.
It didn’t seem fair; it wasn’t fair. But when had life ever been?
I understood what he thought he was doing. He wanted to protect me, do what was best for me, when the only thing I needed was him.
He couldn’t see that, though, and I wouldn’t try to convince him. It would be a waste of my breath and a blow to my pride I couldn’t withstand.
Which meant it was time for me to move on. I knew that, but what I didn’t know was how, where? I had nothing now. No Tiffany, no Priest, nothing. From that nothing, I would have to begin anew.
I sat down, my energy fleeing in the wake of what seemed an impossible task.
I stayed on the dainty settee for I don’t know how long, lost in mourning but resolved that I would do just that, resolved that I would rebuild.
A knock at the door pulled me out of the ever-deepening pit of despair that threatened to swallow me.
“Come in,” I said, my voice weary even to my own ears.
The door opened slowly, and I wasn’t at all surprised when Senna walked in.
“You’ll be leaving soon,” she said.
“Looks that way,” I replied glumly.
“Maxim said I should go with you, see you off,” she said.
“Maxim said?” I repeated skeptically.
She gave a shy smile. “I suggested it. He didn’t say no.”
I laughed. “That sounds more like it.”
After that first conversation, I hadn’t actually spoken to Maxim again. He hadn’t even looked in my direction, so I was doubtful he cared what happened to me.
But Senna did, and her extension of kindness was what I needed at this moment, some proof, however small, I wasn’t completely alone in the world.
I’d lost a lot in the last week, but I’d gained a new friend.
“Thanks, Se,” I said, smiling at her.
She nodded curtly. “Have you decided where you want to go?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Gotta consider the options, see where I can go,” I finally said.
“You can go anywhere,” she said.
“I don’t know if I have ‘anywhere’ kind of money, Senna, and definitely not the kind I need to start all over again somewhere new with no support,” I replied.
“It will be taken care of,” she said with supreme confidence. “So just pick. Go somewhere and start over,” she said.
I watched Senna, searching for some sign she was anything other than completely certain, but I didn’t see any.
“You make it sound so simple,” I said, managing—just barely—to not throw myself against the settee. Though I felt childish, angry, and wanted to lash out, I wouldn’t, especially not to someone who had been so kind to me.
She smiled. “I’ve rarely had a chance to say this, but it is as simple as that for you, Milan,” she said.
“And it’s not for you?” I asked, finally giving voice, at least in a roundabout way, to one of the questions I had about her.