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Not wanting to cause him worry when he has the deal in Africa happening tomorrow, I shake my head. “I’m just going to miss you.”
“You can still change your mind and stay,” he taunts me with the perfect dream.
For a moment, I consider his offer.
What would I be going back to? Training at St. Monarch’s, which I have no interest in…my parents, who don’t give a fuck about me?
Aurora. You’re going back for Aurora. Her wedding is in two weeks.
“Ask me again after Aurora and Misha’s wedding.”
Nikolai lifts a surprised eyebrow. “Do you mean that?”
I walk to him and wrap my arms around his neck. Smiling at my man, I say, “Yes. I'll come back if you still want me in two weeks.”
“Permanently,” he demands. “I won’t let you go a second time.”
I can’t describe the feeling of knowing there’s one person on this planet who wants me. Who loves me so much, he can’t live without me.
“I love you, Nikolai,” I say, my entire heart in my voice.
He lifts his hands to my face, framing my cheeks. He looks into the depth of my soul. “Moya zhizn'. Moya dusha. Ty mayo vse.”
Before I can ask what the words mean, he translates, “My life. My soul. My everything.”
Standing in his arms, I know I would say yes if he asked me to marry him.
A kaleidoscope of butterflies erupts in my stomach, the thought becoming my new dream.
Nikolai presses a tender kiss to my lips, then lets out a heavy sigh. “Let me walk you to the private jet before I give in and keep you here against your will.”
It will never be against my will.
We grab my luggage, and I swipe my phone off the bed. When we walk out of Nikolai’s home, that’s become a haven of peace and love, there’s a sinking sensation in my stomach.
I don’t want to leave.
What if the demons come back? What if this was only a temporary fix, and I can’t function without Nikolai?
He takes my hand and weaves our fingers together. As if he can read my mind, he says, “If you need me, call me day or night. I won’t have any signal during the flight. If something happens while I’m out of reach, call my mom. She’ll come to get you from St. Monarch’s.”
God, I’m going to miss him.
Nikolai carries my luggage up the stairs and hands it to the flight attendant. “Sit,moya lyubov',” he orders before he straps me in, ensuring the safety belt is secure.
He crouches in front of me and stares at my face as if he’s trying to imprint me in his memory.
“Call me the moment you land in Switzerland.”
“I will,” I promise.
“Sir, we’re ready,” the pilot informs him.
Nikolai leans over me, pressing a desperate kiss to my mouth.
It’s just two weeks.
“I love you, Abigail,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.
