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He throws away the blood-soaked cotton and retrieves another one from the top of the desk. “Hold on, let me take care of this. A stupid bitch clawed me and kicked me in the balls…” he trails off when I pull out my gun and the silencer, then take my time attaching it.
Sweat breaks across Richard’s forehead as he watches the weapon with widened eyes. “W-what is that for?”
“Continue.” I stalk toward him. “You were at the part where thestupid bitchclawed you and kicked your minuscule balls.”
He lifts both hands in the air. “H-hey…we can talk about this, yeah? I’m an asset to you.”
“Not when you touch my fucking wife.” I place the muzzle to his forehead, then think better of it and grab my knife.
I’m going to make this fucking personal and stab him until all his blood pours out.
No one touches Lia and lives.
No fucking one.
* * *
After I’m donewith Richard, I don’t rejoin Kolya and, instead, choose to walk on foot.
To watch Lia.
She’s marching in front of me, oblivious to her surroundings and me. She keeps sipping from a drink that she shoplifted when Yan wasn’t around. Lia was never an alcoholic and she’s not one now either. She just believes she’s Winter—and because Winter was an alcoholic, Lia thinks she is as well.
I make sure Yan dilutes her beer when she’s not looking. I won’t allow her to develop an addiction that she’ll regret.
My wife is wearing a coat and shoes that are a few sizes too big. Yan mentioned that she always complains about the cold and the winter weather. I wish I could take her home, wash her, and tuck her in a warm bed.
After what happened with the shelter’s fucking director, I’m paranoid that the incident will repeat. That she’s no longer safe, even if my guards and I are almost always watching her.
What if I lose track of her and can’t get to her in time?
She stops in front of a New York City Ballet poster, her brow furrowing as she studies it. My feet come to a halt a small distance away, but as usual, she doesn’t notice me.
Will she ever?
Lia remains there for several long seconds, her body slightly trembling before she crunches her can and throws it in the trash.
Well. That’s interesting.
At least she remembers her connection to ballet.
Winter was never a ballerina. However, Lia somehow has it in her mind that she was and even told Yan that she was pushed out by an evil prima ballerina who asked her to seduce her husband.
Per my knowledge, Winter was never married, nor has she had a long-term relationship.
Dr. Taylor mentioned that Lia invented her version of Winter and she could have used references from her own life to fill in the gaps.
I wonder if Lia asked Winter to seduce me. After all, she did want a stranger to take her place in my life.
As if that would ever be fucking possible.
After throwing away the can, Lia starts to cross the street without lifting her head. A van speeds down the street and she’s completely oblivious to it.
I don’t think as I grab her by the elbow and pull her back. For a second, I bask in the feel of touching her, even though layers of clothing are separating us.
Even though she doesn’t smell of roses right now.
I haven’t gotten this close since the hospital. And she didn’t even remember me at the time. She had memory lapses later and didn’t recall the first encounters with me. Dr. Taylor, who visited again, said it was normal for someone in Lia’s state to erase everything from their previous lives. Apparently, only her new identity matters and my attempts to talk to her only caused her to escape deeper in her mind.
