It is what it is.
“Thank you,” I murmur as he carries me to my room and sets me gently on the bed.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he says, not looking at me. “Do you want other clothes?”
“My sweatpants, please, in the closet.”
He shuffles around until he finds them, then hands me the pants and a clean T-shirt. “Try not to move around too much. You need to heal and rest.”
“Okay,” I say quietly.
Emmanuil leaves, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the door. My heart is swelling in pain, large cracks forming along it, breaking all over again.
Somehow, through the years, I think I made myself believe that one day in the future we could be together again. But now that I’ve met him all over again, I know it will never happen.
It’s over. Forever. He will never love me like he did before.
And I can’t blame him, only myself.
Chapter 9 - Emmanuil
The weight drops to the floor with a heavy thunk, and I stand up straight, rolling my shoulder. My body is hyped up after a good lifting session. The sun is pouring into my air-conditioned gym, and the music is blaring around me.
It’s the perfect way to start the morning. I’ve been a bit distracted lately and out of routine with Anya here, but this morning I put things right again and woke up and headed straight to the top-floor gym.
The shootout yesterday left me rattled in ways I haven’t felt in a long time. This time it wasn’t just me. I wasn’t only protecting myself. She was there, too. I felt…stressed. Far more stressed than usual in those situations.
What if something had happened to her?
Of course, it only bothers me because of the implications of the forced marriage and her brother’s reaction if she’d been—
I can’t even let my thoughts go there.
Killed.
No. I would never let that happen to her.
Why the fuck is this bothering me so much? She’s a liar, and she betrayed me.
I let out a heavy huff of breath as I pick up the sweat towel.
“Sir,” Logan shouts over the music, standing in the doorway.
I turn to face him as I wipe the towel across my face.
“Music volume twenty-five percent,” I say into my smart watch.
The music level drops, and Logan steps into the gym. “Sir, your cousin is here with his wife.”
“Now? They’re in the house?” I ask, my heart jumping, my fingers clenching tighter around the fabric of the towel.
“Yes, sir. They’re downstairs in the living room, and the housekeeper is making them coffee. I told them you were finishing up in the gym and would be down in a minute.”
“Uh—thanks.” Dammit. I did not want Ardalion here. The risk is too high. I didn’t want to put him in a position where he might become involved in my project.
I toss the towel onto a nearby bench and grab my water bottle as I hurry past Logan, heading towards my bedroom so I can shower.
I pause in the doorway. “Where is the girl?”