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“I don’t want to talk about it.” She reaches for the remote and turns the volume up. An obvious indication she’s finished with the topic.
But I’m not.
I take the remote from her and pause the movie.
“We can keep watching after you tell me about the nightmares.”
She frowns. “It’s just a stupid nightmare. I promise, it’s nothing.”
I hold her stare until her cheeks get red and she starts to squirm.
“It’s not nothing, Billie. Tell me.” I’m not letting the subject drop. There’s more here than just nightmares, I think, but I need her to tell me.
She throws her head back and groans. “Fine. But you promise not to make a big deal of it?”
“Why would I make a big deal?”
“Because you’re you.” She points a finger at me.
I move my glare to the tip of her finger until she moves it.
“Tell me.” Now there’s no way I’m letting this go.
“Fine.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
* * *
Billie
His expectant starehas me pinned to the couch. All the lies I could tell him are flying through my mind. I can simply grab one and give it to him. As easily as he can tell when I’m not being honest, it could be tricky, but it might be worth a shot.
But he’s here, in my blazing apartment, instead of his comfortable mansion, just so I don’t get scared when the storm comes through tonight. A little truth won’t hurt me.
“I’m waiting, Billie.” He drops his hand to my knee.
“When I was in middle school, our house got broken into. It was the middle of the night when the thunder started, and it woke me up. When I sat up, I saw him.” I close my eyes for a moment and take a slow breath. I haven’t put words to that night in almost a decade.
“Saw who? The burglar?” He keeps his tone even and low, almost like he’s afraid he’ll spook me if he talks too loud.
I nod. “Yeah. That’s what I thought he was anyway.”
“What does that mean?”
“He wasn’t in the house to take our things.” I swallow back the bile already starting to rise. Even after all these years, the fear of that night can still choke me.
“What was he there for?” Something in his voice makes me think he already knows the answer, but just wants confirmation.
“Me.”
His hand splays out across my knee before he squeezes.
“You.” His head drops a moment. “Did he touch you?” This question isn’t being asked by a concerned fiancé or a sexy daddy—no, this question is asked by Roman Romanov, the head of the Romanov family who will move heaven and earth to kill anyone who has done him harm.
“No,” I quickly say and grab his hand. “He didn’t get near me. My dad…” I take a steady breath. “My dad heard me scream and he ran into my room. He took care of it.”
He lifts his eyes to mine.
“He killed him. Shot him. In my room.” I push back against the images trying to invade my mind.
