Page 32 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
Suddenly large hands cup my face. “Malyshka, breathe. Breathe.”
My vision blurs through tears.
“Look at me,” Sasha instructs.
I meet his gaze as my entire world seems to tilt and spin, imploding piece by piece. I know this is irrational. I want to take over a mafia, and I can’t even see Enrique without having a panic attack, for God’s sake.
“In and out. In and out.”
I watch the deep swells of his chest as he tries to get me to breathe with him. I stare into eyes like the clearest purest water, so bottomless and beautiful in their coldness.
“Breathe,” he whispers.
It’s like a plug is suddenly pulled, and air rushes in on a huge gulp. It takes me several moments to breathe rhythmically, and he stares at me the entire time. Realization filters in along with the air, and embarrassment has my cheeks heating. He must think me so weak and pathetic.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and I nod. “What happened? I couldn’t see anything clearly. The headlights were blinding.”
I close my eyes, unable to look at him in case he sees my deception. “Enrique is alive.” Silence greets me. “He survived.”
He releases my face, and when I open my eyes, he’s sitting back in his seat, eyes focused on the back of the headrest in front of him. “You tried to kill him and ran from him. Why has he allowed you to leave? Why aren’t you in that car, being dragged back to his house?”
“He won’t take me against my will. Word would get out that I’m his captive wife. It’s bad for business. My sister could dispute the validity of the marriage.” I lie so easily, a half-lie really. “I have seven days to go to him.”
A low breath hisses through Sasha’s teeth, and his head drops forward. “Damn it, Adelina.” His fist slams into the door panel, making me jump. His shoulders rise and fall on ragged breaths as he closes his eyes.
A very real panic grips me, for no other reason than I don’t want him to pull away from me again. Shifting closer, I grip his face the same way he just held mine. His jaw twitches erratically under my palms.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I need that inert hero complex of his to come out.
I know Sasha. He hides beneath that layer of icy indifference, but I’ve watched him risk his life for me before. He is far more than just a soldier.
The car doors open, and Lorenzo and one of his men get in the front. I sit back in my seat and stare out the window as the quaint streets race by outside. I’m in a tailspin and don’t know what to do. I always knew that if I kept pushing, Enrique would click what I was doing and reveal himself. I was just hoping he’d wait a little longer, that Sasha would be one hundred percent in my corner before I had to tackle that demon. This complicates everything, and I now can’t predict which way Sasha will go on this. He may return to New York and leave me to my fate. He’s two sides of a coin with the ability to switch off his alter ego at any point. Which way will he go? Soldier or lover?
When we pull up outside my family home, Sasha is out of the vehicle before it’s even fully stationary. I let him go, knowing that my presence will probably only make it worse right now. He’s no doubt going to call Una and Nero and let them know that Enrique Bianchi is, in fact, not dead. Nero will once again assume that I’m some weak little girl, and I don’t know why that bothers me so much, probably because he’s right. I married the man to kill him, only to fail just as they all said I would.
I make my way through the house and head for the kitchen. I need a drink.
Of course, Gabriella is waiting for me. She has a half-drunk glass of red wine in front of her, and the bottle sits on the counter. With one look at my face, she gets a glass from the cupboard before pouring me a drink.
She says nothing, and I’m grateful. I don’t have the heart or patience to tell her what happened because I can’t bear to lie to her and pretend that I didn’t know Enrique was alive this whole time. More than that, I think I’m ashamed. I know she’ll judge me because I’ve both seduced and slept with the two men responsible for our father’s death, and I continue to try and manipulate them both knowing that, for my own means. She would be disgusted, as I know I should be, but I’m not. I’m long past that. I have to wonder what is wrong with me.
