Page 83 of Be With Me
Alessio’s brows lifted slightly. “Oooh-kay.”
I exhaled through my nose, my temper fraying. “Just go get your fucking coffee so we can get back to work.”
He shrugged, put the lip gloss back, and grabbed a ten-dollar bill from the compartment. “You’re always in a bad mood lately,” he tossed over his shoulder before stepping out of the car.
The moment he was out of sight, I popped open the glove compartment and pulled out the tube.
It was small and sleek, and the label was starting to wear off from being carried around. I turned it over between my fingers. The familiar shape. The shade she always wore.Berry.
I still didn’t know why I'd kept it. At least, I told myself I didn’t.
A while back, I'd stashed it in the car, out of sight. Otherwise, my habit of constantly rolling it between my fingers was bound to turn into a nervous tick.
I wished I could say my life had gone back to normal after Mia and I said goodbye. That walking away had reset everything.
It hadn’t.
Everything felt like it was going to shit.
My father had returned from Colombia a few days after The Golden Circle dinner. It hadn’t been a good trip. The Colombians wanted guarantees we couldn’t give and refused to say who else they were negotiating with.
We were now facing two existential threats: Morales’s election and the potential collapse of our long-standing deal with the Colombians.
But in a twisted way, it was working in my favor. Both of my parents were too focused on the negotiation to keep me in their crosshairs. My mother, who had been relentless in asking about Mia, had mostly dropped the subject in recent weeks. Now, she spent her time trying to pinpoint where the Colombians were thinking about taking their business.
I was worried about the family—reasonably so—but this wasn’t the first time we’d been backed into a corner. We always survived.
We would survive this, too.
With Mia out of my life and out of my family’s scrutiny, I should feel relieved.
I didn’t.
The longer I spent away from her, the worse everything became.
Nights were the worst.
I slept even less than before. The insomnia had never been this bad—not even after the accident. I’d lie in bed, eyes closed, a movie of her playing on repeat inside my head. No off button. No escape. Sometimes I swore I could smell lily of the valley in my penthouse, a place she’d never even fucking been to.
In the midst of all this family turmoil, I should be staying productive, should be using my skill set to gather intel, find new targets…
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I didn’t want to talk to people. Didn’t want to put on an act.
I didn’t even want to fuck anyone.
The thought of it—of touching someone who wasn’t her—made my stomach turn.
If they didn’t look like her, smell like her, moan like her…I didn’t fucking want them.
I needed a distraction.
Alessio slid into the passenger seat and exhaled, lifting the giant cup he held in his hand. “It’s fucking excellent. You wanna try?”
My brother didn’t sleep much either. He’d go days before finally crashing when his body gave out. The work he did demanded it. When someone was close to breaking, you didn’t stop just because it was dinner time.
You pushed until there was nothing left to squeeze out.
