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I keep my eyes focused on the darkwood stairs, the ancient-looking brocade wallpaper, the thick burgundy drapes, my scuffed sneakers—anything to distract me from the man beside me.
The nostalgia hits the moment we start walking along the breezeway.
More of the unwanted memories of that night come rushing back. I can’t remember exactly what happened—whatever Liam gave me has leached my memories—but I do remember feeling closer to Alexander. Feeling safe around him. Happy, even.
Back then, we were more than just two people in the same room. We were sharing the same breath, the same heartbeat, the same lust.
Oh, how wrong I was.
The heartache stokes my anger. Will I have to deal with these thoughts for however long it takes me to figure out a way to leave this place?It will be a special kind of torture, then. To be reminded at every turn of what could have been and how it slipped right through my fingers.
When we make it to Alexander’s room, the door is ajar.
Unlike the last time I was here, everything is a mess—there are papers strewn everywhere, a few pieces of furniture are toppled and the place reeks of cigarette smoke. It definitely hasn’t been cleaned in a while.
“Sorry for the mess. My friends just left,” Alexander says, setting my suitcase down. “I’ve called the housekeepers to sort it.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “Wait here.”
He disappears down the hallway.
When Alexander had told me about the whole Courtesan thing, he had mentioned that I would get my own room. I’m banking on that being the truth. Sharing a bed with him would be…I can’t even bring myself to finish the thought. My anxiety gets me moving, and I stick my head around the corner.
There are two doors, to my relief.
Leaning against the wood-paneled wall, I stand there for what feels like an eternity. When Alexander finally reappears, his hands are filled with a bunch of…miscellaneous items?
There’s a pack of razors, a letter opener, a few tweezers and a nail file.
What the hell?
“If you need to use one of these, tell me so I can get it for you,” he says.
Realization hits.
He thinks he’s taken every sharp object out of the room. I roll my eyes—pity he doesn’t know I have a knife strapped to my thigh that’s sharper than all of them combined. Now that he’s got me in his clutches, he must be scared of losing me.
Pathetic.
“What are you so afraid of?”
His expression turns to irritation. “Alize, I’m not going to let anyone else die on my watch.” His tone is withering. “Not even if she wants to do it to herself.”
I stare after him.
He assesses me with a sharp gaze, then strides past me toward the bin in the kitchen.
Who did he let die?
I’m confused. There’s a story there, but I shouldn’t care. Alexander’s probably just trying to get a rise out of me, to trick me into caring about him again. This is just some cheap shot at scoring points with me.
That day when I threatened to kill myself in the hotel room, I was different. The pain of my first heartbreak had ripped my soul in two. I had felt truly and utterly hopeless. Though I’ve always wanted to die at some point or another in my life, it never hit me as intensely as in the moments after discovering Alexander’s betrayal.
Right now though, it’s not like that.
I want to live out ofspite.
Too many people would get satisfaction from my death. If I killed myself right now, it wouldn’t be for me. I have to soldier on, if even to give myself a chance at something else.
Something more than this.
