Page 192 of Volatile Obsessions

Everything was pristine.

It was bizarre.

I didn’t know what to do, what to think. I didn’t feel threatened or at any danger. If she planned to kill me, certainly she wouldn’t have thrown me in here, free to roam regardless of the door being locked.

My head spun.

What was this?

Aside from Rome, what were her motives?

Why did she want me to find her?

After God knows how long of me oscillating from question to question, I finally fell onto one of the couches and simply stared up at the ceiling.

I was starting to get anxious, a little nervous, too.

Why was she taking so long?

Whatwas taking her so long?

Surely, she was done with her breakfast by now…

Sheer moments later, the click of the lock sounded off by the steps as if I’d been voicing my thoughts aloud. I shot onto my feet, steeling myself for what could turn quite ugly rather quickly.

Down came Liza, now dressed for the day, and behind her—

I gasped.

Behind her came Rome—unscathed and in one piece. Or so I thought.

When our eyes met, I saw nothing. His gaze was hollow, lifeless. And yet, there was a tortured agony bleeding out from his soul.

Begging me to help him.

I could feel it.

My vision blurred over as bereaved tears welled at the surface.

“Figured I’d let you see him one last time,” Liza explained, shrugging nonchalantly.

Like it was the sweetest gesture in the world despite the fact that, the man standing beside her, was not the man I’d left on the Panorama.

“What have you done to him?” I asked, regarding him in anguish.

“Stop asking questions and say your goodbye’s while you can, Lux. I can assure you he will not be walking out the front door with you when I send you on your way.”

Out of all she’d said, goodbye stood out for me most, lurching me toward him almost violently as grief rolled down my cheeks.

I’d die in this fucking basement before I said goodbye to him ever again, but she didn’t need to know that yet. She’d figured it out soon enough anyway.

Throwing myself at him, he caught me without missing a beat, molding me to the planes of his body as I squeezed him for dear life, sobbing into his neck.

“I’m sorry.” It came muffled against his skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry!”

Rome shushed me quietly, threading a hand into my hair to pull me back, enough for our eyes to meet again.

And again there was nothing.

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