Page 88 of Captive Vows
I’d done this.
I’d pushed for her to sink this low. And I hated myself for it. I missed her fire, her willingness to challenge me. With her admission to my nephew, I realized that I’d dimmed her fight, her drive.
She could only take so much, and the gap between us had yawned and stretched for too long.
She could’ve fucking come to me.
She could’ve submitted—again.
But as I clung to that belief, I knew I was wrong. She shouldn’t have had to. She’d already done that. She was the one who had to admit how badly she craved me in the beginning. It was nothing but a cruel trick to expect her to submit and bow again like this.
Especially when she was pregnant and protective in that regard.
Particularly when she was vulnerable with the repeated attempts on her life or the capture of her body to give to another.
Alexsei exited the room after she did. Grateful that she turned to walk the other way down the hall, I braced myself for facing my nephew. I pressed the side of my head against the wall, unable to stand straight as I accepted the full hit of guilt that I’d caused her to feel like this.
He frowned, spotting me, and didn’t waste a second to approach me.
“She’s—”
“Save it.” I let out a long breath as I pushed off the wall and shook my head. Lifting my hand to indicate that he didn’t need to go on or elaborate, I walked toward the study where she’d just been.
“I heard. I heard her.”
“Then you realize that this… fight has to stop.” He didn’t stop frowning, assuming he could have the right to scold me.
I was the boss. He answered to me. But in this case, he could get away with calling me out on this bullshit.
“I heard. And I do realize that.” Passing him, I continued to the study.
Fortunately, he had the wisdom to hear the defeat in my tone. He didn’t follow me to press his case. Alexsei was a kind man with a good heart. He was also smart, aware that he didn’t need to nag like Emil could sometimes.
Alone in the study, I drew a deep breath and tried to catch a lingering note of Gabriella’s scent. Of her sweetness. Of her lovely allure, a tangible presence I once was so blessed to enjoy whenever I wanted.
She was gone.
She wasn’t in the room anymore.
And if I wasn’t careful, the soul of the woman I wanted to love would vanish too.
See? This is what always fucking happens.
To love was to lose.
In my life, to love was to destroy.
I poured myself a drink and downed it, wishing the burn of the alcohol would dull my senses so this heartache of missing her would sting less.
It didn’t work.
So, I poured another. And another.
Slumping into the leather chair, I wondered how long it would take to fall asleep. Maybe fate would be kind to me and spare me from having to dream of her. Again. It was one thing to avoid her by day, but in the clutches of sleep at night, I had no escape from her.
Erotic dreams twisted into nightmares of watching her die.
Weird illusions of her running from me shifted into her being Maria, then herself again.
