Page 1 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
1
Adelina
“Welcome to hell, principessa.” Enrique’s words are a torturous whisper that echoes through my mind. His arm presses over my throat, whiskey-scented breath washing over my face as he crushes my windpipe.
My lungs strain, my heart races, and adrenaline fires through my veins in a bid to make me fight for my own survival. For the slightest moment, I think maybe it would just be easier if he kills me. My life feels like a circus act, walking along the perilous tightrope between death and revenge, failure and success. And lies, so many lies.
I try to blink back my tears, but they fall wilfully. Enrique’s drunken, glazed eyes flick over my face before he finally releases me.
“You’re lying!” I scream, scrambling away from him like a wild animal, clutching the bedsheets to my chest.
He laughs. “No. Sasha Ivanov killed your father.” A slow smile works over his lips before he fumbles around on the bedside table for his phone. He taps the screen a few times before tossing it at me. On the screen are a series of text messages. The name: Death. That’s it. There are account details and a request for one million dollars from the other person. The only text from Enrique is my father’s name. The next text: my man will be in touch when it’s done.
“The Kiss of Death. You should take it as a compliment. It wasn’t cheap having Eduardo killed.” A manic cackle slips from his lips.
“This is Una, not Sasha!” My voice is thick.
“Her man is Sasha Ivanov. She works with no one else,” he slurs before snatching his phone back. A disgusting smile pulls at Enrique’s lips, and I want to slap it off his face, but I don’t because I’m fragile, broken. And he knows it.
I don’t want to believe him, but I do. I know somewhere deep down in my soul that Sasha killed my father. And Enrique ordered it, too cowardly to even do it himself.
I suck in a strangled breath, and Enrique rolls off the bed, clumsy steps thundering over the floor as he stumbles to the door. He wrenches it open, and the doorknob bangs against the drywall. Only when he’s gone does the dam break and ugly sobs tear past my lips. I purge myself of the hurt and the self-pity, right there in the very bed that he raped me in. The same bed I could have killed him in. If only I were stronger. If only I were better. I hate him because he has taken everything that was ever good in my life and ruined it, including Sasha.
I force myself to get up. Snatching my tattered wedding dress from the floor, I tug it over my body, clasping the shredded material together enough to cover me. The house is steeped in the kind of deafening silence that only exists in the very early hours of the morning. I bite my lip, stifling my sobs as I creep along the corridor.
When I reach my room, I immediately strip out of the morbid white satin and lace, wishing I could torch it. Maybe I could just set fire to it right here and burn the entire house to the ground right along with it.
I stagger into the bathroom and crank the shower, making it as hot as possible before stepping under the scalding spray. It stings, but I don’t care. If I could shed my skin, I would. It’s soiled and stained in a way that I’ll never be clear of. I’m not sure which is worse; the fact that I willingly slept with one of the men responsible for my father’s death or that I was raped by the other. I thump my head back against the tile as a fresh wave of tears fall. Bile rises in my throat, and my legs wobble before I slump, lowering myself to the shower floor.
I didn’t know it was Sasha who killed Daddy. How could I have? I feel violated like it was Sasha who raped me. Months, I was with him. Trusted him…loved him… He watched as I went on a revenge mission to kill Enrique, my father’s murderer, let me marry him. And the entire time, the killer was Sasha. I’ve experienced betrayal, but this wound cuts deeper than any before.
I don’t know how long I stay there, but slowly, the tears ebb away, and anger takes their place. It’s not an irrational, hateful anger but a cold, calculating rage. A plan starts to formulate in my mind. In their eyes, I’m naïve and weak, a pawn to be exploited over and over again. At least Enrique’s cruelty is obvious. Sasha offered me protection, protection I never would have needed had my father been alive. I hate him. I hate Enrique.
I will end them all.
