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After too much mental encouragement, I slowly take the stairs, each step feeling like I’m climbing a mountain. The house is quiet as I pace down the corridor to her room, and when I get there, I find the door open. Something is missing before my eyes can scan the space and tell me she’s not here. There’s no soul.
No Rose.
My chest expands, searching for oxygen. I walk to the wardrobes and find it full of clothes. It doesn’t reassure me.
Because her red dress is missing, and I know Rose well enough to know that if she was going to run, that’s all she would take.
I blindly stagger to the bathroom, finding everything in its place. My breathing becomes more labored, my body revolting against my attempts to give it air, throwing out every modicum of breath I find on constant gasps. “No,” I roar, turning and throwing my fist into the first thing within range. The mirror shatters, my knuckles split, and I slump against the wall, a rage so potent consuming me.
“Danny?”
I look up. Esther is in the doorway, the basket still in her arms.
“I let her out,” she says unapologetically, her chin high.
I stare at her for a long, long time, feeling a bit lost. She doesn’t back down. What do I do? Punish her? And how? Scream at her? I can’t talk.
I shake my head and brush past her, walking aimlessly through my house. It felt like the soul was ripped out of my mansion when Pops died. It came back somewhat when Rose was here, spirit filling this hollow brick shell. And now it’s gone again.
I feel anesthetized, numb, unfeeling.
Gutted.
My steps become quicker, more urgent, and I barge into my office, swiping up the Scotch on the way to my chair. I drop. I glug. I swallow. And I eventually focus past the end of the bottle.
Red fills my vision.
I lower my drink, swallowing down the burning liquid. She’s sitting on the couch by the fireplace, one leg crossed over the other, her own bottle in her hand, though she’s opted for vodka. Her beauty swamps my mind. That red dress throws me back to the night I first laid eyes on her. Every kiss, touch, and word races through my mind. She caught me. Reeled me in. Blinded me.
And betrayed me.
I slam the bottle on the desk and slowly rise, the fading anger returning now I’m looking at her beautiful, deceiving face. “Nox Dimitri,” I say simply. I’m surprised when she frowns, diverting her stare to her bottle of vodka in her hand. “What, did you forget that you betrayed me?” I round the desk, taking my Scotch with me for support. “The boatyard was crawling with FBI tonight.”
Her eyes dart to mine. “What?”
Her ignorance makes me want to strangle her, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m pulling her up from the couch. My hold of her injured arm is firm, and she comes with ease, meeting my eyes without a wince of pain. I walk her back until she’s pinned against the wall. “I had the pleasure of a photo-viewing session. Saw you and Nox Dimitri together. Heard of your expert qualifications in seducing men too.”
Her eyes widen. “No . . .”
Her denial angers me more, my hold of her constricting. “You’ve been feeding information to that Romanian cunt and now I’ve got the FBI crawling up my arse.” I push my forehead to hers, hard and forcefully. “The attempts on my life are because of you.” I release her before I really hurt her, pulling myself back to a reasonably safe distance. “You lying, filthy whore.” I say it with as much conviction as I feel, laughing on the inside when she appears to look insulted.
Her chin lifts in an act of pure Rose strength and she walks forward, brave and resolute. I can see her locking and loading that sweet palm of hers, and I don’t stop it. She swings at me with a look of pure hatred on her face, landing me clean on the cheek with brute force. Her strike creates the most piercing sound, the echo probably carrying through the entire house. “I didn’t tell Nox about the exchange,” she says calmly. “I could have, but I fucking didn’t. I typed out the message detailing where you would be and when, but I didn’t send it.”
I scoff. “Really, Rose? So if Nox didn’t tip them off, then who the fuck did?” I spit back, cricking my neck before taking another soothing sip of the hard stuff.
“I don’t fucking know. I was with you, Danny. Every time Nox tried to put an end to you, I was with you. Why would I do that?”
“Because you want to fucking die!” I roar.
“I don’t!”
Lies. I grab her by the throat, flexing my grip. “Shame,” I sneer, pushing my face close to hers, snarling. “Because I’m going to fucking kill you.”
