Chapter 105 Fragile Fantacy
❦ Rosalind ❦
I was sinking into sleep, my head heavy, when the penthouse phone shattered the silence.
The blare tore through the quiet, and I shot upright, my heart hammering against my ribs.
For a split second, I thought they’d found me again. My hand slipped beneath the pillow, grabbing the small pistol I kept there.
But it was only the phone.
Still, my body shook as if the danger was real. The ringing cut off, leaving me stranded in the silence, trying to decided whether I had the strength to move to pick it up.
I almost laid back down, when it blared again, shrill and loud. I groaned under my breath, dragging myself up, the pistol still in my hand.
I picked it up but didn’t speak.
Then, his voice.
“Hello. Rosa.”
My knees nearly gave out. My throat burned.
The tears came suddenly because all I could think of was calling him and calling him and hearing nothing.
Needing him, and being met with silence.
I nearly slammed the phone down. But then he spoke, his tone rushed and raw.
“Wait. Please, wait. Listen. I can’t describe how grateful I am that you’re okay. How relieved. I’m sorry, Rosa. I’m so fucking sorry I wasn’t there. I can explain… if you’d just open the door for me.”
The sound of his voice opened up something hungry in me, but I forced steel into mine. “No.”
“I won’t leave until you do.”
“There’s no need for theatrics,” I snapped, though my voice shook. “I want to rest. I’ll return home in the morning.”
“I’m not leaving. I’ll sleep in the hallway.”
“Why should I care?” The words were harsher than I intended, burning with all the things I didn’t say, all the hours I’d spent alone and terrified. My hands trembled around the receiver. “Why should I care?”
His reply came softer, in Italian, and it almost undid me.
“Mi dispiace tanto… voglio essere qui per te.” (I’m so sorry. I want to be here for you.)
I slammed the phone down before he could crack my resolve.
But I stood there for a long time, staring at nothing as tears flowed down my cheeks. I wiped them away with the back of my hand, my chest heaving.
I told myself there was no point in being difficult.
I needed to plug that flash drive into his laptop, and I couldn’t do it if I pushed him away completely. I had to pretend everything was fine, that I wasn’t angry.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and marched to the sliding doors. I half-expected him to have left already.
But the doors slid open, and there he was.
I gasped.
He leaned against the opposite wall, his arms crossed. His white shirt was stained with brown patches of dirt and blood.
His hair was a mess, his eyes rimmed with dark bags, and still… still… he looked so alluring and dangerous. Terrible and magnetic.
Viktor slowly pushed off the wall like he’d been waiting for me to open the door just to give him a reason to move.
He walked toward me but stopped a few steps short, close enough for me to feel the weight of his presence, but far enough to respect my space.
His eyes moved over me, tracing every inch of my face, sliding down my body like he was checking my physical health.
I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. His gaze was scorching, unraveling me bit by bit.
Heat unspooled in my belly despite my anger towards him. Despite the exhaustion weighing me down.
God help me, all I wanted was to close the distance, bury myself against his neck and steal the furnace of his warmth for myself.
Instead, I shifted to the side, giving him wordless permission to enter.
He didn’t hesitate. The moment I moved, he stepped in and pulled me into a hug. His body was vibrating, and he burned like a fever against my skin.
His voice broke through the heat, rumbling guttural Italian against my ear. Apologies. Regrets. He told me he failed me. That he didn’t protect me. That he was sorry.
“It’s fine,” I whispered, the lie sour on my tongue. “I’m okay.”
But Viktor wasn’t satisfied. His hands gripped my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. “How did you get out?” he demanded. “Do you know who took you?”
My throat closed up. If I said Giannis’s name and admitted the truth, Viktor would put two and two together if I went ahead with the plan. He'd see me as compromised. Maybe even a traitor.
I smiled a thin, practiced smile. “It was nothing. Just… random attackers. They wanted money, so I transferred it.”
“Then they can be traced through the transaction…” he said at once, his mind already working ten steps ahead.
“No.” I cut in. “It’s not necessary. The account will be untraceable anyway. They looked… smarter than that.”
His eyes narrowed and I felt the panic rise. He was studying me. I had to turn this around.
“Why didn’t you come for me?” I demanded, my voice wavering.
His expression changed to one of apology.
“I wasn’t notified.” He gritted his teeth, rage burning behind his gaze but not at me. “I never should have left you unattended.”
Then his expression shifted. He C my face and brushed his thumb against my skin. Moments after, he guided me toward the bed.
I sat, the mattress dipping beneath me, my pulse still erratic. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the gleam of the flash drive on the bedside table.
My stomach knotted. If he saw it, he would ask. And I wasn’t ready for questions I couldn’t answer.
Viktor lingered, watching me. “I’d like to stay,” he said, his voice low but certain. “If you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” I answered. I forced a small nod, feigning nonchalance. “Stay.”
The moment Viktor disappeared into the bathroom, I moved quickly. I snatched the flash drive and shoved it into a shoebox at the back of my closet. Out of sight, but not out of mind. It pulsed in my thoughts, heavy like a stone.
I slipped beneath the covers and turned away from the sound of running water. My body begged for rest, but my mind refused.
The auction was tomorrow, and still I couldn’t make a concrete decision. Selling the hotel would free me and cut the last cord tying me to New York. But the thought of washing my hands clean and walking away, knowing my decision condemned women and children, made me sick.
Yet keeping it meant my name would forever be attached to a legacy that painted a target on my back for as long as I breathed, and probably long after.
I clenched my eyes shut with a sigh, forcing my aching head to surrender, even for a few hours.
The bathroom door opened.
I stayed stiff beneath the blankets with my eyes closed, every muscle taut as I listened to him dress. The bed dipped under his weight, the mattress shifting with his nearness.
For a moment, nothing happened. All was silent, except for the uneven drum of my heart. I wanted him… God, I wanted his warmth, his solidity pressed into me, but the secrets burning in my chest held me frozen.
How could I crave his touch while plotting behind his back?
Then his hand found me, and in one motion he pressed me against him. His nose burrowed into my hair, his voice rough against my ear. “Whatever you’re thinking about, it can wait till tomorrow. Sleep.”
His fingers rubbed small, steady circles into my arm. It was hypnotic. His arm slid beneath my neck, while his breath warmed my hair.
My throat tightened, my eyes stung. I pressed my nose into his skin and drew in his scent like it was oxygen.
Why couldn’t life be this simple? Just this... his heat, his arms, no decisions, no plots in shadows.
But nothing was simple, not with him… not with us.
Somewhere between the weight of his body behind me and the fragile fantasy of a life untouched by secrets and betrayal, sleep pulled me under.