Page 34 of Thorns of Lust
I had no fucking clue where I was, that was the honest truth.
Weeks flew by. My snooping through Adrian’s stuff only provided more questions, no answers. Weird notes came up here and there. Call N. Who was N? Itinerary N and J. Who in the fuck were those people?
Months of digging through information only to end up more confused. Information I found in Adrian’s room shed no light on anything. He didn’t seem to have focused on a single person with his secret and damning videos. It was all over the place - politicians, underworld members, doctors. There was no rhyme or reason to what he was doing or who he was targeting. But the videos I uncovered included some very scary shit. If any of them knew about these, they’d want him dead.
God, maybe theyallwanted him dead.
Then, Alexei’s words from the morning of the funeral shattered through the fog.
He wasn’t good for you. Not anymore.
That required elaboration. I’d have to corner Alexei and ask him what he meant by it. Just not today. Today, I needed this. A seed of doubt whispered in my mind, mocking my words.
How many times had I said, ‘not today’?
My sweaty fingers gripped the flask, the only medicine that kept me going. All my cuts and bruises had long healed, but my mind hadn’t. If anything, I started to question it all.
What had I done?
What had Adrian done?
What in the fuck was going on?
A weird type of anger gripped my chest and refused to let go. I blamed it on my husband’s death. I blamed this fucking life. The underworld. I blamed everyone. Everyone including myself.
I was hearing voices at night. Things in the penthouse were here one day and gone the next. The man I married wasn’t who I thought he was. It was all becoming too much. I felt like I had lost my mind, and I was scared to let anyone see it. What if my brothers decided I was crazy like our mother and locked me away?
It was better to hide it all - with alcohol, anger, anything.
Panic about my state of mind made it hard to breathe. I needed to somehow relieve this anger. Get rid of the bitterness. Get rid of the addiction I was clearly nurturing.
I just didn’t know how. It had become a part of me.
My hand shook as I brought the flask to my lips and tipped the bottle. A pitiful drop touched my lips, tasting bitter. I shook it, again and again. As if that would produce more alcohol. I needed more of it, so I could feel less. So I could drown out these thoughts in my head. There were too many.
My feet moved across the paved streets. People passed me by. Men. Women. Children. Families. Nobody paid attention to another drunk on the street. There were plenty of those in this city. Or maybe they all paid me attention but thought I deserved it.
Spoiled Nikolaev princess at her lowest. Or maybe there was still room for me to fall even further.
My thoughts were scrambled, coming and going. Some made sense; most didn’t. It was the alcohol in my veins. It made it hard to think. Was I going crazy?
God, I hoped I wouldn’t turn into my mother. I couldn’t turn into my mother. That would be bad. Very bad.
I crossed the street, my small heels clicking against the pavement. I caught my reflection in a shop window. The old-fashioned seventies style dress, white at the top and black skirt swished with my every move. It flared from my waist down to my knees, flattering my figure that had gotten way too thin in recent months.
It was peculiar how our exterior never reflected our inner selves. Everyone expected a polished and up-to-date fashion clad Tatiana.
So here I was. Looking polished and put together on the outside while on the inside, I was a jumbled mess. Maybe I was an alcoholic. Maybe I was just insane. After all, it ran in the family. Those fucking genes - there was no escaping them.
I let out a heavy sigh. I should have just stayed in bed. At least I had a fully stocked bar at home. Or maybe I should be smart and dig through more of Adrian’s stuff. Look for answers.
Instead, here I was, roaming these lively streets while lack of sleep pulled on my muscles.
Whispers echoed in my mind. Words that made no sense at all.
He left her to die.The words were spoken. I was certain I’d heard them except I couldn’t remember anything else about it. Who left me to die? Who uttered those words?
Pissed off at the words I didn’t understand, I sped up my steps. Yan and Yuri trailed behind me, but I’d gotten good at ignoring them. It was a constant since the accident. The only time I didn’t have them following me was when I was in the penthouse or with my brothers.
