Page 10 of Queen of Ruin

“Do you remember them?” Diego asks while nodding.

“No.”

“Damn.” He picks up the T-shirt, turns it over quickly, and then abandons it for the jeans. Rummaging in one front pocket, he finds nothing. Same for the second. One of the back pockets makes his brows lift, though, and after digging deep, Diego pulls out something that he rests on the palm of his hand.

Two gold rings.

“Are those… mine?”

“They look like wedding rings,” Diego murmurs, and he examines them closer. “They’re engraved.”

“What do they say?”

“Rus—Ruslan? And Ivy.” His eyes flick up from the rings. “Is that your name? Ivy? Do you feel like an Ivy?”

I shake my head. “No… that doesn’t feel right.”

“Try them on?” He offers the rings to me, so I take them and examine the gold bands for a few seconds.

Diego returns to my jeans and rummages in the pockets, but the only other thing he finds is a sleek, black card about the size of a credit card. It’s completely blank on both sides. He flips it over several times and then shrugs.

“Weird club card, maybe?”

I remain focused on the rings and then, after a few shaky breaths, slip them onto my fingers.

Both rings are loose on all my fingers.

“Damn,” Diego murmurs. “I guess you really aren’t an Ivy. Unless whatever happened to you happened over a really long period. Unlucky, I guess.” He hesitates suddenly. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Our eyes meet as I pass the rings back to him.

“I dunno. Feels like I should apologize. I mean this is… you’re in my apartment with no memory, only a fear so strong that you won’t let me call the authorities. This whole thing is so… insane. And here I am making dumb jokes.”

Slowly, my lips pull into a slight smile. “I get it. It’s weird. I feel it too. I wish—” Pain cuts me off and I yelp softly, clutching at my abdomen and then my head. My noise sends Diego up from the bed.

“Okay, I’m going to get you painkillers and we’ll just pray you’re not allergic to anything, okay?”

“Okay,” I gasp, cradling my head in both my hands. “Oh, God.”

“Just hold on,” he says, his voice fading as he heads for the door. “Oh, for ease too, I’m going to call you Amber.”

The wave of pain subsides after a few seconds and I slowly lift my head back up. “Amber?”

“Yeah.” He flashes me a quick smile. “Because of your hair.”

4

DIEGO

Leaving an injured, memory-less woman alone in my apartment just screams bad idea, but I’ve got no choice. She needs painkillers, I have to work and keep up appearances, and I need a second to breathe.

She doesn’t remember.

Not me.

Not the crash.

Not what happened to her before she got in my car.