Chapter 59 Chapter 59 Tomato Soup
I wake up, my eyes aching from crying. It’s still dark outside. I reach for my phone, and Dimitri’s voice startles me. “It’s one in the morning!”
I turn and look at him. He’s lying on top of the blanket like me, in sweats, his arms tucked under the pillow. The room still looks like a Persian harem—colorful and beautiful—but now the other side has been converted into an open bathroom. A clawfoot tub sits in the middle beneath a skylight. Two sinks with small circular mirrors line the wall, and a three-person glass shower gleams beside them. At least the toilet has its own small room.
Dimitri and I don’t have to share a room, but he insisted. If I had to guess why, it’s not because I need protection. My stomach growls loudly, and I know he hears it. Sliding my feet off the bed, I sit up and stretch. I flip on the light and change into my pajamas—tank top and shorts. Dimitri turns away the second I start taking my clothes off.
I head downstairs and out of the room, and he follows me. Down three flights, we reach the kitchen on the other side of the living room. I turn on the lights and open the fridge, pulling out everything I need for tomato soup. Pots, spices, ingredients—I grab it all. Headphones on, I pick a song and get to work.
Chopping, stirring, seasoning. I move around the kitchen like Dimitri isn’t even there, dancing as I cook. The soup starts to smell amazing, rich and warm. I breathe it in, letting it settle something inside me, like it’s stitching me back together.
Still moving to the music, I start on grilled cheese sandwiches. I flip the pan, turning them over—perfect golden brown. I grab plates and bowls, finishing everything up, and when I look up, Dimitri and I are no longer alone.
Alek and Sergey’s wife are sitting at the kitchen island beside him. I motion to the food, and they both nod. I grab more plates and serve them too. Pulling off my headphones, their voices rush in.
“Welcome back!” Dimitri says. “I wasn’t watching when you cooked at Ivan’s, but I get it now.” He grins as my eyebrows pull together.
I sign: I got Ivan with my smart-ass mouth… when he picked me up, I was breaking up with my ex. I told him he wasn’t tall enough for the tone he used with me.
“You cook like you fight,” Alek adds. “Floating around weightless with such ease.”
I roll my eyes. Enough with the compliments—they don’t fix anything. My gaze shifts to her, and she smiles. I wonder if she knows her husband kissed me.
“You don’t remember my name, do you?” she asks.
I shrug.
“I told you she tuned his ass out the second he started talking,” Alek laughs.
“It’s Elena,” she says. “And good thing, because it would be awkward explaining the tattoo he has of your name.”
I try to hide my shock as she calmly explains their arranged marriage—three-year agreement, inheritance reasons. She has a boyfriend. She told Sergey to come talk to me earlier. Then she tilts her head. “Why did you hit him so hard? His face is still red.”
I sign: He’s married and he kissed me.
Dimitri starts to translate, but Elena stops him. She understands. Her sister is deaf, and growing up in New York, she learned ASL fluently.
I continue: Cheating is cheating. I already hate myself enough. I don’t need to add to that.
I throw my hands up, done with it. My life is complicated enough—I’m not adding “international mistress” to the list. The thought is ridiculous. I sit back down and eat, dipping my sandwich into the soup, taking small bites. We fall into silence.
When I finish, I wash my dishes, pack away the leftover soup, and clean everything I used.
My phone vibrates on the counter. I pick it up—and freeze. It’s Mason.
I answer before thinking about my voice. It’s three in the morning. Sobs pour through the speaker.
“Mason? What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice rough and cracked.
Dimitri looks at me like I’ve completely lost my mind. Mason’s crying only gets worse. I put him on speaker and set the phone down.
“I… I’m sorry for everything,” he stammers. “I freaked out. I’ve never dated someone like you.” He’s crying hard, probably drunk. “I love you, I miss you, and I’m a fucking idiot.”
In the background, I hear Matthews. “He called her. Mason, we told you not to call her. Leave her alone!”
I can’t help it—I laugh.
“Stop running, man!” Matthews says between laughs as Mason sounds out of breath.
“That way, that way!” Olivery yells faintly.
“Mason, are you drunk?” I ask. He’s never been drunk around me.
“I might have taken my pain pills with some vodka!” he laughs, then his tone shifts. “We were good, right? Before the birthday party.”
“Yes,” I say quietly. “It was perfect… until it wasn’t.” My voice cracks again, and I feel tears rising.
“Give me another chance to get it right.”
Before I can say no, Matthews grabs the phone. “Sorry, Elle. We hid it, but he found it. You coming to the club on the first? I was thinking—since you and Mason are done—you might go out with me.”
“No,” I say flatly. Not happening. Not ever. Dating Mason's friend sound like a disaster waiting to happen. Although....he is really good looking too.
Stop.
Don't go there.
“Next time I will shoot,” Dimitri adds casually.
“Are you with your bodyguard… at 3 a.m.?” Matthews sounds amused.
I flip the camera on and pan across the kitchen, showing Alek and Elena.
“I see,” he says. “Have a good night. We’ll be seeing you.” He hangs up.
I set the phone down and exhale.
I sign: I’m going to get dressed and go for a walk.