Page 135 of Relentless Sinner

“That’s where I’m going?” Another touch of irony. Not even a minute ago, I wished I could get lost in the painting. Now I’m going there for real.

“Yes. It won’t look like this. It may be a winter wonderland, but you’ll like it. There’s a lake not too far from the thicket of trees where I used to take Rose skating. The lake would freeze over by mid-December and you could stay out there for hours. In the summer, it was just as beautiful. We spent the most memorable moments there.” He looks back at me. “No one knows this, but I asked her to marry me long before her father agreed to our union. We were going to run away together if he didn’t. I wanted her to know she was mine.”

His words touch my heart. At the same time, I can’t believe he’s the same cruel person Jaxon told me about. “You must have loved her very much.”

“I still do. But there was a time when I hated her for leaving me. For dying. How foolish when I should have been spending every day treasuring our memories and the two boys she gave me.” He sounds like a forsaken person who knows their days are numbered and they’re trying to make amends. “She was like him. Like Jaxon. She would have done the same thing he did. They sacrifice for the people they love, even if it costs them everything.”

We stare at each other, and a light of understanding passes between us.

“It hurts,” I eventually say.

“Because your love is real.”

I look away from him as tears sting the backs of my eyes. I don’t want to cry again. I don’t want to go down that road. It was hard enough to burst into tears in front of Jaxon. I don’t want to do that in front of his father.

A gentle touch brushes over my hand. I look back at him.

“Come, let’s go to the study, and I’ll show you my library. He said you like reading.”

“I do.”

“I have a first edition collection I think you’ll like.Wuthering Heightsis one of them.”

My heart melts, wanting to crumble even more, but I force myself to be strong and accept this small act of kindness that may help me feel better.

“Thank you.”

“Come along now, dear.”

A gust of wind stirs me from a deep sleep. It brushes over my cheeks like long fingers caressing my skin.

Slowly, I open my eyes and see that the window was left open. The window of the study. It takes me a moment to reorient my mind, and I sit up, squinting at the sunshine.

I fell asleep on the chaise, and there’s a blanket spread over me. Jaxon’s father must have put it there.

We read together for hours, and I must have drifted off.

It’s not that bright outside yet, so I assume it’s still early in the morning. I can’t see the clock, and my phone is in my room.

I push to my feet and fix the books, then I make my way out. I need coffee before I can even think of getting through this day.

Actually, I think I’ll get coffee and if it’s as early as I think it is, I’ll go right back to sleep. No point being awake feeling sorry for myself and obsessing over Jaxon.

Not when I’m leaving the country tonight. I don’t want to think about that, either.

I make my way downstairs and notice there’s no one around. I spot the clock in the hallway. It’s nine. Not exactly too early. So, where is everyone?

Belinda, the head maid, talked about the big breakfast she would prepare today and how busy the house is in the mornings. But there doesn’t appear to be anyone around at all. Not even the guards. Now, that is strange.

Maybe they’re in a meeting.

I walk past the hall I was in last night with the painting and see Jaxon’s father inside. He’s sitting in his wheelchair in the same spot we were last night. As if he never left.

I walk in deciding to speak to him. He was nice to me yesterday.

“Good morning, Ilya.” Last night he insisted on me calling him by his first name.

He doesn’t answer me so I walk closer. It’s not until I’m a few paces away that I realize his head is tilted to the side. And he’s completely still.

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