Page 69 of Scarlet Vows
He understands my impatience, and he’s telling me to cool it if I can.
That’s the key, isn’t it? If?
“I left my itinerary on your desk, along with the physical ledgers and the passwords to the computerized ones…if they weren’t already left to you by your grandfather.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. “We’ll get a drink later in the week.”
“Looking forward to it.” His smile’s genuine.
Glad to have at least one person—apart from Svetlana—on my side.
I get to work.
My grandfather left me the keys to the kingdom with passwords, a who’s who black book, and his own secrets and notes on other players. That all came to me the moment I showed my marriage certificate.
Which brings back the ill-thought-out kiss.
I want to regret it. I do. The kiss was beyond what I thought it could be, her taste, sweet, moreish, with a hint of the spice I suspect she contains. It was something I not only wanted to keep doing, but something I wanted to go further.
Because in that moment, all her signals were green.
I hit the red.
How could I not? Look at us now? Alina is somehow too busy to see me for the past couple of days. She goes to bed early. Last night, she disappeared with the driver to Isla’s for an evening of drinking, pizza, and bad TV they like to indulge in, usually at the mansion. I’ve often been there, working late, sometimes ribbing them on my way out as I steal some pizza.
But last night, for the first time I know of, they met at Isla’s.
It felt like a slap in the face.
“Or maybe you’re turning too sensitive,” I mutter in disgust.
Point is,Ihit red, not her.
And it took everything I was, everything I had, to stop, to make sure things didn’t go any further.
I want her. I want to be with her, to explore what this could be more than anything.
I want to show her there’s a world of happiness after Max. It doesn’t need to compete; it’s something different, something new.
My mom worked herself down to nothing. She turned down dates. I was very young at the time, but I remembermissing my father, hating the sadness in her as she struggled to make life good.
She chose loneliness, and I have the horrible feeling she’d have continued that solitary path had she lived.
That’s the last thing I want for Alina.
I’d love her choice to be me, but my feelings and care for her are enough that I’d support her happiness even if it was with someone else.
Wouldn’t I?
Hating it isn’t the same as stopping it.
I drag myself out of that twisty tunnel into nothing good.
I want to be with her, more than anything, and I can admit that. Just like I can admit the risk of her regretting it, of it rupturing and destroying our friendship, of her pushing me away is just too big. It’s a risk I’m not willing to take.
And maybe it’s too late.
Maybe the damage is already done with that one ill-thought-out kiss.
