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But the hardest thing of all was her very nearness.
When he’d deprived himself of it seven years ago, he’d thought he’d eventually become numb to the loss. It had taken one look into her eyes, in those nightmarish moments when he’d thought he’d been too late to save her, to prove how wrong he had been.
He hadn’t been numb; he’d been shut down completely. It had been the only way to continue functioning. The injury of her loss, what he’d inflicted on himself, agonized and hardened him like none of the ordeals of his hellish past had. And that had been when she’d been alive and well. In the time he’d thought she might die, too, he’d known he wouldn’t survive losing her for real.
But he hadn’t lost her. Antonio had saved her.
At first he’d hidden Alex’s fate from her, and the details of what he’d done, in order to hide his true nature. Anastasia and Alex had known him as Ivan Konstantinov, not Wildcard, The Organization’s lethal mercenary with a body count that neither of them could have thought existed except in fictional tales or real-life stories of monsters.
But she’d insisted on seeing Alex until he had to tell her the truth. Watching her almost disintegrate with grief, he’d been grateful he hadn’t told her she’d only survived because of the liver transplant she’d gotten from Alex.
As it had turned out, he should have told her, not about the transplant, but about the rest. Now that she was privy to everything, she was letting him deal with everything as he saw fit. He should have trusted her then to make the rational decision. After all, the Anastasia he knew never let emotions interfere with pragmatic priorities.
When he’d walked away, she’d only tried to contact him once. When he’d made no response, she’d gone on with her life as if those magical weeks they’d shared hadn’t happened.
At first, instead of being relieved that his desertion hadn’t hurt her, that she’d decided to just move on, he’d hated it, had felt such contrary bitterness that had made him even more ruthless and cynical.
But he’d still been unable to stop watching her and Alex obsessively. And as time had gone by and she’d been too busy with her scientific studies and research career to move on, he’d felt perverse pleasure that she hadn’t replaced him. Even if she had, he still would have helped her. And he had, opening doors for her and Alex that would have remained closed otherwise. Their success had been deserved, but even in the world of science, it wasn’t always merit that saw someone get their dues. He’d seen to it that they did.
It had remained a struggle to keep away even when he’d believed her better off without him. He lived in fear his past would catch up with him and he’d place her and Alex in danger. That had been the main reason he’d walked away.
It was such tragic irony that when fatal danger had targeted her and Alex, it had had nothing to do with him.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Getting it out before the noise could wake her, he read the message he’d been waiting for. Fyodor, his right hand, affirming his latest move had been carried out.
Alex’s murderers had been neutralized.
There was no reason to put off contacting Anastasia’s and Alex’s families anymore.
Not that his reluctance had anything to do with caring what they would suffer once they knew the truth. If not for them being Alex’s family, if it wasn’t for them continuing to impact Anastasia’s life, he wouldn’t have considered them at all.
After all, they were the people who’d sent him to hell.
Two
“Don’t discharge her.”
Ivan blocked Antonio’s path in the deserted corridor, intercepting him on the way to Anastasia’s room.
His best friend’s turbid eyes clashed with his unwaveringly, in their depths things Ivan had never seen before. Not even during their worst days as The Organization’s captives and mercenaries.
Antonio had always been their brotherhood’s most sangfroid member, at times seeming inhuman in his ability to deal with any level of hardship or abuse with a level head and a cool smile. Even as his closest friend from childhood, who’d seen deeper into him than anyone else ever had, he’d never thought Antonio could feel like this, let alone be unable to hide it. Despondent, desperate, even a little unhinged.
But then what had seemed impossible had happened. Antonio had fallen in love. Violently, irrevocably. And Liliana, the woman who’d created a heart inside him to worship her with—in his friend’s own words—had discovered the truth. That he’d started their relationship as a plot to infiltrate their joint family, to destroy them from within. Liliana now believed he’d never loved her, had only proposed as means to an end. Devastated at the discovery, she’d run away from his efforts to explain...and she’d almost been fatally injured in doing so. After spiraling through ten different kinds of hell as he’d operated on her, too, he’d saved her life. But clearly, not her love. Liliana’s rejection seemed final.
Now Antonio, the surgeon with nerves of steel, was a total mess. Which could actually work to Ivan’s advantage right now.
The old Antonio, whose emotions never played a role in his actions and decisions, would have turned down his demand, since there was no medical merit to it. But Antonio the emotional volcano might sympathize with his plight and do what Ivan wanted.
And what he wanted was to postpone Anastasia rej
oining the world, and her family.
Shaking his head, Antonio said, “I have already kept her longer than necessary, to be on the safest side possible. There’s now no medical reason not to let her go back to her life.”
A shiver ran down Ivan’s spine. Antonio’s voice now was the scariest thing he’d ever heard. Such barely contained instability from the most controlled being he’d ever known.
He only hoped dragging Antonio into his own concerns would distract him from dwelling on his regrets and the loss of the woman who’d become his only reason for living.
