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She nods, scrunching up her nose to remember, and then blushing slightly. “My mum went all weird when she was talking to him, like she does when she’s talking to my form tutor, Mr. Richards, sometimes.”
“You mean he was handsome?”
She nods again, her blush deepening. “Likemovie starhandsome, Miss Rivers,” she confides with a whisper. “He was wearing a really nice suit as well, and he smelled of expensive cologne like my dad’s. And there were tattoos all over his hands.”
Frankie.
Frankie was here.
I stumble backwards in shock.
Fuck you, Kirill, for cultivating those seeds of doubt. And shame on me for believing him.
“Miss Ri—”
“Thank you, Candice,” I say quickly, cutting her off.
Turning on my heel, I limp towards the studio’s window and stare down at a pleasant suburban high street that’s lined with bored rich housewives and bright green Plane trees. There are cars parked up on either side of the pavement, but I find what I’m looking for straight away. The black SUV has tinted windows, but I can still picture the unseen fingers drumming impatiently against the steering wheel.
Suddenly, I’m a little girl of seven again, gazing down at a world that exists without me, sensing his salvation though I can’t see his face.
I know he’s watching me too because I’m feeling sunshine on my skin for the first time in forever. My cheeks are wet, but I don’t know when I started crying. I can hear the girls filing into the studio behind me, but I can’t seem to tear my gaze away.
I press the palm of my hand to the glass, and, down there, I know he’s doing the same as me.
Still, the words unspoken in my head aren’t pleading for him to open that car door and climb the stairs to my dance studio like he’s scaling the walls of my prison cell…
They’re silently begging for his forgiveness.
CHAPTER 16
FRANKIE
The moment she turns away from the window, my palm clenches into a fist, and I’m grinding my knuckles into the glass. She knew I was there. She looked straight at me, and it was like a glimpse of dawn after the longest night.
God, she’s so fucking beautiful.
She’s mine to love, to heal, to fuck, so why am I still sitting in a car a hundred metres away from her? Patience is a virtue, but I was born a sinner.
I’ve waited too long.
Felt the bite marks of our separation for too long.
I’m reaching for the door handle when a message comes through to my phone. It’s lying on the passenger seat next to me. Out of habit, I glance sideways at it.
Don’t.
With a curse, I go to toss it over my shoulder when the goddamn thing starts ringing in my hand.
Viper.
“Fuck off,” I snarl, knowing what he’s about to say and not wanting to hear it.
“Watch your tone, mafia boy. You’re about to get your head kicked in before the race has even started. Don’t make me your voice of reason.”
Swinging the phone to the other side of my head, I open the door six inches.“I’m hanging up.”
“You just missed Semenov.”
