Page 82 of Sinful Betrayal

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve thought about calling him over the years, but the number I’ve had for him hasn’t been inuse since the day he cut me out. I always wondered if he thought it would be too difficult to escape our father if I was with him. It was a way to make it hurt less, to believe that he was better off without me.

There’s only one way to find out.

I transfer the number into my contacts and dial it before I can talk myself out of it. I hold my breath as it rings, and rings, and rings.

“Answer me, Lev,” I whisper, as if somehow he can hear that it’s me through the phone. “Please.”

Eventually, the call rings out, and the dial tone echoes in my ear. I let out a breath as I shut off my phone as tears prick my eyes.

When did everything become so complicated?

“Nina? I’ve made dinner!” Anton calls up the stairs.

I jump to my feet and wipe at my eyes, trying to erase any sign of tears. I don’t want to risk Anton asking questions.

If it weren’t for the fact that I’m absolutely starving, I would have hidden out in my room until morning.

“Nina?”

“Coming!” I plaster a smile on my face.

As I make my way down the stairs once more and cross the foyer toward the kitchen, I catch a waft of something, and my mouth instantly fills with saliva as I breathe in the delicious smell.

The door to the kitchen is open, and I notice that the lights have been dimmed and soft piano music filters through the speakers.

I find Anton carrying two plates of food over to the table which has been laid with a crisp white tablecloth, candles, and a fresh bouquet of pink roses.

“Anton,” I gasp as I take in the sight of the romantic dinner he’s put together. “Did you do all this?”

“I thought you might need cheering up.” Anton sets down the food before crossing over to me.

He looks as if he’s going to wrap his arms around me but hesitates. “My mother always used to make me chicken parmesan when I was feeling down, so I thought I’d make it for you.”

“It smells wonderful.” I eye the plates of food, one of my favorites. “Thank you.”

The smile on my lips is genuine as I look up at Anton, his skin cast in a soft orange glow from the candlelight.

He takes that as his cue to close the distance between us, and I let him wrap me in his strong arms, pulling me against his chest.

I know I shouldn’t. It’s selfish of me to seek comfort from him, but when I breathe in his earthy scent, my mind empties of everything excepthim. The feeling of his warm hands on my waist, the sound of his heart beating in his chest, like a lullaby that could send me into a dreamless sleep.

I don’t want to let him go.

“I’m here for you, Nina, I hope you know that,” Anton whispers as he strokes my hair.

I screw my eyes shut as I fight a sob.

“Now, let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

“Should I change?” My cheeks burn as I glance down at my very casual attire.

“You look perfect,” he murmurs before pressing a kiss to my forehead.

Anton pulls my chair out for me, and I take a seat at the table, eagerly reaching for my fork to tuck into the food.

Silence falls between us, though I’m desperate for some conversation, if only to distract me from my spiraling thoughts.

“How was your?—”

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