Page 22 of Thorns of Lust
NINE
TATIANA
Ishot up into a sitting position, heaving and choking, my fingernails digging into the sheets.
My scream traveled through the empty penthouse, vibrating against the walls and creating a horrid echo. The moon shone through the large windows, glowing over the city of New Orleans and witnessing my misery. It offered no advice, only watched me numbly.
The shadows danced across the walls of the home that had become just another tomb. The one housing a living, breathing human.
I glanced at the clock, the red digits showing it was 1:00 A.M.
“Happy New Year,” I whispered, the words going nowhere. A nightmare plaguing my dreams wasn’t the best way to start a New Year.
The day after I had asked Aurora and Bella to help, Aurora returned to inform me that she’d found something. While she wasn’t able to uncover much, what she found out was surprising.
Adrian provided security for her father, a corrupt politician, and hacked into his competitors’ network for him. It made no sense. It went against everything his company stood for. If he did that for him, who else did he do that for? The answers wouldn’t come tonight.
Tossing away the sheets, I jumped out of bed and headed for the mini-bar.
The alcohol taunted, promising oblivion. And I fell deeper and deeper under the influence. I needed the numbness. Ineededthe relief it brought on. Agony fueled through my veins as I poured myself a drink with shaky hands. It wasn’t until I was on my second glass that the bitter satisfaction swelled through my chest. Sinking to the floor, I held the glass and the bottle of vodka.
Deep down, I knew it was bad. Deep down, I knew it was a dangerous road for a Nikolaev to take.
Yet, I couldn’t stop my self-destruction. It has been two months since Adrian’s death. Two months of chances to move on. Instead, I chose to lose myself in the bottle. Every glass brought a temporary liberation as the anguish left me. Or maybe it just buried itself deeper.
One glass became two, then three, then as many as I needed to rid myself of the despair. It was the only way that I knew how.
It was the wrong way.
But I was too weak to stop. As the alcohol finally overtook my senses, I put the bottle down between my legs. Still on the floor, my back pressed against the wall, I stared out at the skyline of New Orleans, one of the most vibrant cities in the world. Known for its distinctive music, its celebrations and festivals; it was considered a colorful and happy city. A free to do as you please city.
Yet, I felt chained. I’d never be free, not for as long as questions about that night haunted me. Every waking and sleeping moment.
Who killed my husband? Why?
A knock sounded on the door, startling me. My eyes darted to the hallway, almost expecting to hear Adrian say ‘I’ll get it’ but of course, those words never came.
Who in the fuck would be coming? Shifting onto my feet, I headed for the front door with unsteady steps. The world slightly tilted, making me unbalanced. The path to the front door seemed to take forever, when in fact it only took seconds. I opened the door to the empty hallway.
My brows furrowed. I heard the knock. I really did. Didn’t I?
My eyes darted around the empty hallway, then something caught my eye on the doormat. Holding on to my door handle, I slowly lowered to my knees and reached for it. White, it felt like a… I turned it over and my next breath caught in my throat.
A photograph. The one of Adrian and I on the day we eloped.
What the fuck is the meaning of this?
“Hello?” I called out but the only voice that returned was my own. “I know you’re there,” I yelled, paranoia creeping through my veins. “Asshole, show yourself.”
The elevator dinged and I screamed in fear, falling to my ass. The elevator door opened and Yuri stepped out of the elevator. Alarm shot through his eyes and his gaze darted around the hallway, but found it empty.
“You alright?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.
No, I’m not alright.“Yes, I’m fine.” I swallowed, clutching the picture in my fingers.
“How much did you have to drink?” Yuri asked, disapproval clear on his face. I gritted my teeth and let him help me to my feet. If I said anything, he’d blame it on my alcohol levels. So I remained quiet and headed back inside.
Even if I was mad, I’d find the people that brought me to the point of madness and I’d make them pay. I’d get to the bottom of it. I’d find the assholes who killed Adrian and tore my life apart.
