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No!
Alessia turns and slumps against the door.
That was most unexpected. But his words—they’ll despise you—have struck home. She clutches her throat as it seems to constrict against the truth, and she suddenly has an overwhelming urge to cry.
What if he’s right?
* * *
I’ve unpacked the few belongings that I threw, panicked, into my duffel when I thought I’d never see Alessia again. I’ve arranged them, rearranged them, and I know I’m actively avoiding my next call.
Coward. Call her.
I stare out at the still, quiet waters of the lake, the gray skies reflected in its depths, the scene mirroring my mood. The women upstairs are still in conference, and by their loud laughter and chatter, I know they’re enjoying themselves. Taking a deep breath and figuratively girding my loins, I press Call on my phone and wait for Caroline to answer.
Shall I tell her?
Shall I not?
“Maxim!” she exclaims, gushing and concerned at once. “How are you? Where are you?”
“Caro. Hi. I’m in Kukës, staying at Alessia’s parents’ place.”
“You’re still there? I don’t get it. If you’ve found her, why aren’t you either back here or on your way?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Her fiancé?”
The Arsehole. “Um… no.”
She’s silent for a moment, waiting for me to elucidate. She sighs. “What are you not telling me?”
Inspiration hits me, and it’s the truth. “We have to wait for a passport for Alessia.”
“Ah. I see.” She sounds uncertain but continues, “You don’t want to come home and go back for her?”
“Definitely not. I’m not letting her out of my sight.”
“Oh, how protective!” she scoffs. “Your white knight is showing.”
I chuckle, relieved she’s her usual caustic self. “Yes. It’s been showing for a while, much to my surprise.”
“Surely she’s safe with her parents.”
“It was her mother who handed her over to the traffickers, albeit unwittingly.”
She gasps. “I didn’t know. That’s awful.”
“Yeah. Hence my need to be protective. Anyway—enough of this. What have you been doing?”
“Oh,” she breathes, and I almost hear her fold in on herself.
“What is it?”
“I’ve finally found the strength to go through Kit’s things.”
My grief surfaces, unexpected, raw and vicious, winding me.
Kit. My dear brother.
“I see,” I whisper.
“I have a few things of his that you might like.” Her tone is soft—laced with regret. “The rest… I don’t know what to do with yet.”
“We can go through it all when I’m home,” I offer.
“Yes. Let’s do that. I’m going to tackle some of his papers tomorrow.”
“Good luck.”
“I miss him.” Her quiet sorrow is ingrained in her voice.
“I know. I do too.”
“When will you be back?”
“Next week, I hope.”
“Good. Okay. Thanks for calling. I’m glad you found her.”
Feeling guilty as hell, I hang up.
Guilty by omission.
I should have told her.
Hell!
I’m tempted to call her back and confess that I’m getting married, but she’d want to get on a plane and come here, and frankly, I don’t want the hassle.
I decide not to tell my mother for precisely the same reason. The Mothership will lose her shit, and I’m not sure Kukës or the Demachis are ready for the Dowager Countess in all her glory because I’m certainly not.
Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. My father’s oft-repeated phrase comes to mind. He’d say it with a twinkle in his eye as he caught me about to do something I shouldn’t.
I brush off the thought, and there’s a knock on my door. Before I can say anything, Alessia hurries in, closes the door, and leans against it. She raises anxious eyes to mine. She’s ashen.
“What’s happened?” I ask.
She takes a deep breath, moves forward, and surprises me by wrapping her arms around my waist. I fold her into my embrace, alarmed, and kiss her hair.
“Alessia, what is it?”
She tightens her hold on me. “Anatoli. He was here.” Her voice is barely audible.
“What?” My world shifts, and I tense as anger flares in my gut.
She looks up, her eyes wide with fear. “He came to the door.”
Horrified, I cup her head in my hands and study her face. “That fucking animal. Why didn’t you call me? Did he touch you? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” She places her palms on my chest. “And no, he didn’t. He wanted me to reconsider.”
My breath catches in my throat. “And are you?”
That’s why she didn’t call me.
She frowns, not understanding.
“Are you reconsidering?”
“No!” she exclaims.
Thank God.
“Why would you think that?” She draws back, looking very much affronted, and I have no choice but to release her. “Do you think like this because you are reconsidering?” she asks, lifting her chin in that haughty way she does, and I laugh at the absurdity. The absurdity of the two of us…
How could she think that?
“No. Of course not. Though I wish we were doing this at our own speed. But you know that. Why do you doubt me? I’m thoroughly, indubitably… muchly in love with you.” I open my arms, and after a beat, she steps back into them with a shy forgiving smile.
