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CHAPTER 31
Dimitri
“Arianna?” I peek into the library, but she’s not there. Same when I look in the kitchen, living room, and the sunroom. Where could she be? I know she hasn’t gone out. Maybe she’s upstairs.
I’m home after a long day of hiring the new manager for Riot. Maks chose a couple of good candidates and I made the final decision. Hopefully the club will be back to running smoothly soon. We have another fight night scheduled for later this month at that venue.
I climb the stairs and enter our bedroom, where my steps falter.
Arianna’s sitting on our bed, the wooden box I immediately recognize open in front of her, but it’s the look in her eyes that punches me in the gut. Fear. Her gorgeous blue-green hazel eyes are wide with fear and suspicion.
I don’t understand. Everything in that box is of her, and she knows about the stalking, the photos. Okay, maybe it’s her hair and evidence that I snuck into her bedroom while she was sleeping that has her so afraid? I’ll admit that could come off as creepy even though I had no intention of harming her.
But that explanation doesn’t settle quite right. Something’s off.
I go to step toward her and she flinches, so I stay where I’m standing just inside the door. “What’s wrong?”
She picks up the hair clip. “Wh-where did you get this?”
I sigh, raking my fingers through my hair. That’s the first piece of her I collected, a couple of years ago in a grimy alley. I should have come clean about that sooner, but I was afraid about how she’d react. I guess now I know exactly how she’d react—like this.
“It was the first time I ever saw you, Halloween two years ago at Club Chrysalis. You were wearing a Little Bo-Peep costume, a white dress with blue flowers all over it. That was in your hair.”
“But how did you get this?” Her voice wavers. She nudges the pillow beside her, revealing the gun—my gun that I keep in the nightstand—hidden beneath it.
Fucking hell, what did I do now? Is she going to shoot me because I’ve been keeping an eye on her for longer than she thought?
“Arianna, what the fuck is going on?” Acidic fear pools in my stomach. I can feel her slipping away like sand through my fingers.
“Answer the goddamn question.” Her fingertips rest on the grey metal weapon. From this distance she could pick it up and get off a shot or two before I reached her. But why would she want to do that?
Then it dawns on me. There were two men in the alley where she lost that barrette. But she can’t possibly think… I breathe through the rage and hurt.
“I found it in that alley, where you had no business being.” My tone is edged with anger. “If I hadn’t followed you when I noticed that creepy motherfucker taking you through the side door, and then pulled him off you—I don’t want to think about what would have happened.”
Her features relax slightly and she searches my eyes. For what? Does she think I’m lying?
“I beat the shit out of him, then stabbed him to death.” I take a step closer to the bed. “He bled out and died in the alley.” Another step. “That was the first time I killed for you, kisa.”
I reach the bed and drag her to me, my fingers wrap around her neck. How could she even suspect that I was the one who tried to rape her? Her suspicions fucking tear my heart out.
Softly, I squeeze her throat. “And I would do it all over again. Again and again. Anything for you. Anything to protect you.”
Her features crumple, a sob tears from her throat, catching me off guard. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice cracking. “I-I thought you might have been him. I can’t clearly remember that night. It’s all a blur. I’m so sorry.”
I pull her into my embrace. “Shh, malyshka, it’s all right. I’ve got you.” Smoothing her hair, I pepper kisses on top of her head. She falls apart in my arms. Her sobs rip at my soul.
“It’s the trauma,” I tell her. “That’s why you can’t remember the details.”
She nods against my chest. “I know. I’m still sorry that I thought the worst of you.”
“So am I.” My heart twists. Will she always think the worst of me? I hoped by now that she had some faith in me, at least a tiny bit. But today she confronted me, thinking that I tried to rape her in a dark alley.
I know I’ve done some fucked up shit, but that crosses a line that I never would. The fact she believes I could do something like that crushes me. It’s fucking gut-wrenching.
At this point, I don’t know how to be anything other than the villain in her story. She keeps painting me as one, and I’m afraid there’s no going back.
She’ll never trust me. Not really.
