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Someone knocks at the door. Bambi throws a quick glance over her shoulder, then stands behind me and runs her fingers through my hair to loosen the curls and tousle them into sensual waves.
She wraps her arms around me in a warm hug from behind. “I’m so sorry, Clara,” she whispers. For the first time since… well,ever, I hear her voice catch. “There’s nothing I can do.”
I’m right—this is it. I’m not coming back.
Bambi is saying goodbye.
I reach up to give her hand a squeeze and force myself to smile through my tears. “It’s okay. I know.”
Another knock. We both jump a little at the sound. She grabs her phone from the vanity counter and checks it for messages—probably from Demyen—then looks at me through the mirror.
I pretend to not see her slip her phone into the clutch that came with this dress.
The knocking grows impatient, and Bambi snaps into her usual self. “We know! Shut the hell up! Or do you want me to drop a hot iron on her and turn this into an ER trip?”
No more knocking. I’d laugh if I could feel an ounce of happiness right now, but no such luck.
Bambi takes my hands and helps me to my feet. She holds me there for a moment, searching my face for something. I dare to wonder if it’s forgiveness she wants—and if so, I’ve already given it to her.
“Well, you know what to do,” she mutters as she squeezes my fingers.
“I wish I did.”
“Yeah.” She sighs and nods before stepping away. “Me, too.”
She opens the door to let me out. Demyen is nowhere to be seen. He’s probably already in the car, waiting for his guards to escort me to whatever luxury showboat he’s chosen for the evening.
My hearse, basically.
I quickly turn to Bambi before the door closes. “Please, Willow?—”
“I promise, Clara.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “With my life.”
25
CLARA
I’m half-right: Demyen is near the car, not in it, as his men lead me to the driveway. He’s pacing back and forth, glancing at his screen every other second, running a hand through his hair before he seems to remember we’re going somewhere nice. Then he subconsciously smooths it back into place, but nothing can help the few stray strands now falling into his face.
He’s so tragically beautiful.
My avenging angel.
My king of the underworld.
My dream-turned-nightmare.
I feel my legs start to give out on me.No—I’m going to get through this. I’m going to power through whatever decadent torture he’s whipped up for me and I’m going to show him I’m no longer the terrified, helpless victim he first dragged into this mess.
Demyen glances up at us. Then does a double-take, his eyes lingering on me. I feel him scan me head to toe and I have to lookaway before the heated appreciation in them tears things from deep within my chest I don’t want pulled out.
When I’m close enough, he reaches for me, but I flinch. I can’t help it. I’m not scared of him the same way I’ve been scared of Martin or my father… but Iamstill scared of him.
I could at least trust them to hurt me.
I can’t trust him. Period.
Demyen frowns. Something behind the pain in my chest flickers to life, but I’m quick to snuff it out. I can’t afford to let a little thing like hope weaken the walls I’ve built around me.
