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I hear female voices approaching the room, but I don’t understand what they’re saying. It sounds like they’re talking German.
The women come in, and the light is turned on. I keep still, hoping they’ll think I’m asleep.
They laugh and talk some more, and even though I don’t know them, I don’t feel as alone as anymore.
I can’t fall asleep, though, and lie awake, thinking about all that I’ve lost.
I remember our wedding day and the song that played when I walked down the aisle. You’re the reason by Callum Scott. I’ve listened to it many times since then, wondering if that’s how Armani felt about me, and that’s why he chose it.
But he didn’t climb every mountain. He didn’t swim every ocean to be near me. He broke what we had.
The song feels like it was a premonition all along, only Armani isn’t going to swoop in to save me again.
I never thought a man like him could love someone like me. But he did. He loved me more than I’ve ever been loved.
And I’ve lost it.
I miss the feel of his body sprawled over mine and his face pressed into the crook of my neck. I miss feeling his breaths on my skin.
I curl into a smaller bundle as the heartache shreds through me again.
God, what have I done that you’re punishing me like this? You said you’d never give me more than I can bear, but I can’t handle this. It’s killing me.
Again I have to suppress a sob, so I don’t disturb the other women in the room.
Time creeps by, and eventually, they switch off the light, quiet down, and fall asleep.
I place my hand on my abdomen and caress the spot.
I miss your daddy. I want you to know you were created out of love, little one. No matter what you hear in the future, your daddy’s a good man. Things just…weren’t meant to be between us.
Your daddy might not be around, but you’ll have your Uncle Misha. I’ll tell him about you as soon as I’ve found a place for us to live.
Devastating emotions crash over me, and my body shakes as I try to keep the sobs from escaping. I press my face into the pillow and gasp as my tears soak the fabric.
God, Armani. I wish you’d believe me.
Chapter 38
Armani
I’m losing my mind.
Where I’m known to be calm and collected, I’m nothing but a fucking mess since shit went down.
I’ve hired St. Monarch’s to search for Tiana. They’re scouring the fucking world for her.
Last night was the longest night of my life. I’ve never felt so powerless before. I kept trying Tiana’s phone, but it kept going to voicemail.
I look at the note she left me.
I’m leaving to protect the baby and not because I’m guilty.
I love you, Armani. So much.
Misha called to say he heard from her, but she didn’t tell him where she was.
I haven’t even told my mother Tiana’s gone.
She left because I threatened her. And our unborn baby.
I lost my shit entirely, and it terrified her. Even if I find her, will she be able to forgive me? Will she ever feel safe with me again?
Jesus, what have I done?
My phone vibrates in my hand, and my head snaps up. Not recognizing the number, I open the message.
God. No. Don’t do this to me.
I stare at a photo of Tiana running toward a train, fear and heartache etched deep on her face. Her cheeks are wet with tears, and her eyes look frantic.
How easy it was to break your perfect little romance.
Let’s see who can get to her first.
My breaths speed up, and my heart fucking shrivels.
Someone pounds on the door, and darting to my feet from where I was sitting in the courtyard because the house is too empty, I yank it open.
Misha barges inside, takes one look at my haggard face, then says, “We’ll find her.”
I hold my phone out to him. “We’re not the only ones looking for her.”
Frowning, he takes the device and reads the message. “Blyad'!” he curses in Russian. “We have to move. Jesus, where would she go?”
Walking out the door, I say, “Let’s start at the train station.”
I don’t even bother locking the door behind me. Misha and I run to where we can get a gondola to take us to the other end of Venice.
When we reach the station, my phone vibrates again.
Target spotted in Milan, boarding another train to Lovere.
“St. Monarch’s just notified me she was in Milan and headed toward Lovere.”
“Thank fuck. At least we know in what direction we’re going,” Misha mutters.
We get two tickets, and boarding the train, I slump down in a seat. My knee immediately starts to bounce from the worry eating at my gut.
“Whoever is fucking with us has one hell of a head start,” I grumble.
