Page 134 of Relentless Sinner

I don’t answer. What more can I say?

Or do…

Jaxon’s father’s house already felt like a palace to me when I first came here months ago. Now it feels like an entire country, and I can’t believe one man lives here. Today, the grounds are covered with the Creed’s guards, who secure the place like sentinels ready for battle. No one who isn’t supposed to be here will be getting past them. And if they do, I don’t think they’ll live for very long.

I’ve been wandering around the halls and rooms of the house, but now I think I’m lost.

Either they have two Ming vases with the same royal blue peacocks walking around them, or I just passed the same vase twice.

I’ve been here for at least two hours. Eve stayed with me for a little while to help me get settled in and give me the tour.

This home was her first job, so she knew everything. She also knew all the staff, so she introduced me to everyone, and I was grateful that she stayed long enough to have dinner with me.

I haven’t seen Jaxon’s father yet. Apparently, he’s become nocturnal and wary of anyone in the house.

I’m thankful I’m only here until tomorrow night because I’m not sure how to behave around him. Especially knowing whatI know about him and the way he treated Jaxon when he was younger.

Usually, I can be sociable with anyone. But I’m not sure I have the strength for it today. My heart is broken beyond repair and my soul feels like it’s waning inside my body.

Emptiness threatens to swallow me whole, and there’s a coldness in my bones that reminds me of the shadow of grief. Losing someone, whether you lose them by death or by other means, is still a loss.

A part of you is still missing and you’re still trying to process what comes next. What to do. What to think. What to be.

This part is painful, and I can get my head around it, but what happens when Jaxon and I truly separate? How will I walk away from this life remembering that he was the only man for me?

I’m at war with myself. Like a tormented spirit who can’t move on.

I’m walking around the house and busying myself because I don’t want to be stuck in my room crying or thinking.

I could call Cora, but I haven’t spoken to her yet about anything. She still thinks I’m in the Hamptons. Jaxon and I were supposed to head home tomorrow.

I’ll call her tomorrow night when I’m enroute to Russia.

Russia.

What am I going to do there?

I guess it’s the last place Dad will think to look for me, so it’s a good idea, but still.

I walk into the large hall where Jaxon was given the role of Pakhan. I remember that day so well and how we were late because we couldn’t get enough of each other.

He’s right. It feels like it was just a dream.

I walk over to the painting I admired that day of rolling hills and a beautiful landscape in the countryside. The painting is sovivid it’s like I could step into it and run across the meadow. I wish I could.

“Jaxon’s mother did that painting,” comes a deep accented voice from behind me.

I turn around and see Jaxon’s father at the door. He wheels himself in and stops next to me, then he gazes at the painting and smiles.

I’ve never been alone with him before, and those words are perhaps the most he’s ever said to me.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, even though he’s still staring at the painting. “She was very talented.”

“She was. I swear she was an angel. She could do everything and anything. Everything she touched was magical.” He sounds like a man forever in love with his wife.

He glances back at me, and I give him a kind smile. “Maybe shewasan angel.”

“I think so. That’s probably why she couldn’t stay.” He looks back at the painting and smiles again. “Her name was Rose. This painting is of the landscape near her home. You’ll see it tomorrow.”

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