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I sigh. “I’m sorry, Valerie. I’m going to do better.”
“And I’m going to do better, too,” she replies, looking out the window. “I need help, actually. I’m sure you know I have aproblem with cocaine, but I almost threw my life away this morning over it.”
I nod. I understand that more than she knows, but I’m not going to act like it’ll be as easy for her to break her addiction as it was for me. We’re two different people with two wildly different experiences.
However, for as long as I’m alive, I’m not going to allow her to put anything harmful into her body. I won’t apologize for that, either. It’s just the way I operate when I love someone.
“We need to set some ground rules,” I say, placing a reassuring hand on her thigh. “Just to be clear with each other. Is that okay?”
She nods earnestly.
“Right, so I’d like you to try out this rehabilitation center in Italy I went to many years ago. They take a peaceful and holistic approach, but they won’t let you slip up. It’s kind of like a vacation, really, but you’ll come out as a better person,” I explain, watching her face for signs of concern. There aren’t any, so I continue. “It’ll be good for you in Italy because my brother won’t be able to bother you there. We won’t be gone forever, but a month would be ideal, depending on how much time you need.”
“And… I have to do it alone?” she asks quietly.
“They’d make an exception to let me in with you, but it’s really a solo thing. Some centers are like a hospital or prison, but this one is more like a resort. Believe me when I say you won’t even feel like you’re in rehab,” I say, squeezing her thigh as we cross over to the north side of the city.
She taps a finger against her lips as she considers my proposal. “And how long is it for? You said a month, but is that flexible?”
“A month in Italy, yes, but not a month in Rehab. I honestly don’t think you need that long. It mostly comes down to getting you away from your drug of choice and into an environment where you can distract yourself with other things easily. There are some group classes and such, but it’s mostly a resort experience with doctors everywhere in case you go into severe withdrawal.”
She laughs a bit to herself. “I’ve already experienced that. I think I just need some time to break the habit.”
“Right, and they will help you work through emotional things. I’m not very good at that, as you know, but there will be people there than have more qualifications.”
She tilts her head over to me, offering up a lopsided grin. “You’re right. You’re terrible with emotions. Maybe you should see a therapist while I’m in rehab. We’ll both come back from Italy a lot healthier.”
I shake my head, looking down the road as we approach the turn to the house. “I’ll be fine. I just want you to get the help you need.”
“Awfully sweet of you.”
“I’m a sweet guy.”
She laughs, and it’s like an angel’s bell in my ear. I wasn’t sure if I would ever hear that beautiful sound again, and here she is, right next to me only a few hours after she ran away.
I was a fool to let it happen once, and I’d deserve it if it ever happened again. I can’t let the perfect woman run from me likethat again. I’ll do anything to keep her, even if it means burning down my entire Bratva empire in the process.
And even if it means killing my own brother.
27
Valerie
I’m always surprised by how quickly Pasha is able to get things done. One minute, we’re talking about rehab in Italy, and the next, we’re touching down on a private runway somewhere in the south of Italy.
I wake up to the warm sun bouncing off the waves outside. We’re so close to the coast that I can taste the salt in the air the moment the plane door opens. Italy will never be overrated in my eyes. It’s literally paradise once you get out of the city.
I’ve been here once before on a much smaller budget, but I suspect things will be different now with Pasha. The charm of taking public transportation will be gone, but it’ll be replaced by a luxury that only the ultra-wealthy ever get to experience.
I’m handed a glass of sparkling mineral water as I get off the plane. I never liked the flavor but in Italy everything tastes better.
Pasha drinks his water like it’s mouthwash, swishing it around between his teeth before swallowing. He follows it up with a cigar, leaning against the side of our small private plane to light it up.
“Hey, I thought we were doing rehab,” I tease as his head disappears into a cloud of smoke.
“You’redoing rehab, darling. I still get to have a bit fun while I’m here.”
“Not too much fun,” I warn, holding up my finger.
