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I got dressed too. Black shirt and grey sweatpants. Valerie quietly left the bathroom, and I followed her, watching her closely as she got in bed.

“Are you not hungry?” she asked when I didn’t join her. I climbed in bed too, and she placed the tray between us. Valerie ate little bites here and there before pushing the plate away.

I devoured the rest before placing the empty tray back on the nightstand. Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled Valerie into my body. With my finger under her chin, I tipped her head up toward me.

“Are you tired?”

She nodded. “I want to sleep.”

I kissed her forehead. “Whatever you want, baby. Can I ask you something?”

Valerie blinked up at me, waiting for me to continue.

“Can I kiss you? Please.”

I wasn’t sure where I stood or where we stood together, and I needed some kind of confirmation.

Tears welled up in her eyes before she blinked them away quickly. Valerie gave me a small nod. “Yes,” she whispered so softly I almost missed it.

My head descended toward hers, and our lips fused together in my desperate attempt to taste her. I tasted her tears and sadness. I tasted her pain and fear.

I tasted her love.

She cupped my face and kissed me back, deeply. A desperate kiss, filled with torment. Beauty. And pain. Love. And misery. A mixture of emotions that bled from her lips into mine.

The kiss lasted until we were breathless.

“I am sorry,” I murmured between the kiss. She didn’t hear me; she didn’t catch my words. But I whispered them over and over again.

“I am sorry.” Kiss. “I am…” Kiss. “…sorry.” Kiss. “I…” Kiss. “…am…” Kiss. “…sorry.”

I am sorry.

I am sorry.

I am so fucking sorry, my sweet myshka. For breaking you. For breaking…us.

Our tongues tangled together, and I pulled Valerie to me until she was lying on top, her body practically covering mine with a blanket of softness and warmth.

“I am sorry.”

She kissed me harder, as if she could taste and hear my words.

Our panting filled the room, our chests heaving harshly. I pulled away, sucking in a deep breath. Valerie sagged against my chest, and she pushed her face into my neck. My lips felt raw as I placed a sweet kiss to her temple. Her arms clenched around me.

She didn’t let go.

Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes became hours. Valerie fell asleep on me. She didn’t let go. Hope flourished in my chest.

Maybe…maybe…she’d find it in herself to forgive me.

Chapter 32

Viktor

A few hours later, I found myself standing outside Ayla’s room. Valerie was still sleeping, and I left her there, looking quite serene in her sleep.

Bringing my fist up, I rapped it against the wooden door, waiting for a reply. When I heard Ayla’s soft voice calling out, her command to enter clear, I twisted the knob and walked inside. The room was dark; the curtains had been drawn together to block the sunlight out.

I walked a little further inside until I was standing a few feet away from the king-size bed.

“You made it out alive.”

His deep, rough voice came through in the dark, and it held a tint of pain.

Alessio Ivanshov sat in the middle of the bed, bare-chested and propped up against the pillows with his Queen at his side. He owned the room with his mere presence. Even injured, he sat up straight, his shoulders squared and his head high. A King never bows.

Any other men would have buckle under the intensity of his gaze, but I stayed rooted in the spot I stood. Alessio’s pale blue eyes were hard and dark. Yeah, he was pissed all right.

“I could say the same about you.” I grinned when his jaw clenched and unclenched. I could almost see the angry ticks in his cheeks as he gritted his teeth.

Ayla let out a long, deep sigh from beside him. I almost chuckled at the sight of Ayla babying him. She was spoon-feeding the motherfucker.

“Fuck—” he started but then quieted when Ayla shoved another spoonful into his mouth.

“Shut up. I am doing all the talking today,” she admonished. Alessio turned his face to her and glared, his brows pulling down at the intense look he was giving her. I wasn’t exactly sure if he was angry or he just wanted to throw his wife over his knees and spank her ass—just because he loved a challenge. And right now, his Queen was being one hell of a challenge.

I’d believe in the latter.

From the look on Alessio’s face, he was definitely thinking of several ways to punish her and fuck her right into next week.

“Can you stop giving her that look, you fucking pervert? It’s actually disturbing,” I drawled.

Alessio lifted his eyes back to me, and I watched as he raised his eyebrow mockingly. “I’m not ashamed to admit. I am a pervert,” he said, way too cocky for a person who was wounded.

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