Page 139 of Vicious Addictions

I’m not sure how long I just sit there in Dimitri’s room staring blankly into space when I hear the door creak open behind me. I don’t turn around because I know who it is just by the stealthy steps.

“You shouldn’t be here, Stella.”

“Who’s going to stop me?” she replies arrogantly as she places a tray of food on top of a nearby table. “Thought you might need to refuel. You’ve been here for hours.”

“Have I? I didn’t notice.”

To be fair, it’s not the first time I’ve lost track of time thinking about Mina. In those first few years after returning from London, I kept myself buried in the Outfit’s business just to get her out of my head. But late at night, when everything was quiet, I’d lie awake, picturing her face instead of getting the sleep I needed.

I had to use my memory to recall every little detail. The way she smiled. The way she would brush her hair off her shoulder when she meant business. The way her lips parted for breath when she looked at me.

Like a fool, I never brought a picture of her with me to Chicago, convincing myself that out of sight meant out of mind. And if I didn’t have any physical proof of her stunning face, it would make healing my broken heart all that easier.

It didn’t. I regretted the decision before my plane even lifted off Heathrow’s runway.

Unlike most people, Mina refuses to have any online presence, something Victor strongly encouraged. The less the world knew about his daughter, the better.

But I knew Mina.

I knew everything about her.

Or at least I thought I did.

This version that has come to Chicago is the complete opposite of the girl I first met.

This woman is hard and apathetic. It’s like she refuses to let herself feel anymore.

No, that’s a lie.

She feels.

Oh, she definitely feels.

Hate and disgust.

For me.

“So what did this guy do?” Stella asks while stealing a French fry off my plate and taking a bite.

“Like I’d ever tell you.” I half-smile, half-frown at her.

“Oh, come on, Jude. I’ll find out sooner or later.”

“Oh, yeah?” I cock a brow. “And how do you think you’ll accomplish that?”

“I have my ways,” she sings, swaying her hips from left to right.

“Marcello won’t tell you if that’s what you’re inferring,” I deadpan.

“Marcello tells me everything.”

“Trust me, he doesn’t. Not if it will put him in hot water with our father,” I growl, still wondering what the hell my baby brother was doing at that godforsaken meeting earlier today.

When Stella’s smile starts to dip into a frown, I know there is a small part inside her that agrees with me. Marcello would do anything for her except oppose our father.

“Thenyoutell me.” She bats her eyelashes at me.

“Nice try. That shit stopped working on me years ago.”

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