Page 147 of Ace of All Hearts

My eyes close to try and stop the fear from overwhelming me.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop whatever you had going on with them?”

I don’t give him an answer.

“You didn’t want to, did you?” he insists.

I look at him and let the truth fall off my lips. “I’m in love with them.” Swallowing my anger, I add, “Is that so bad?”

He puts a hand on my thigh and tilts his head. “It is if it gets in the way of my business.”

“I thought you cared for me,” I rasp.

“I do. I care about what’s in there.” He taps the side of my head with his index finger.

I clench my jaw to avoid going into hysterics.

He waves a hand in the air, dismissing my feelings. “It’s done now, Rosalind. And we’re going home. I’ve got much work for you.”

“Where’s home,” I ask, frustrated that he’s left me in the dark for almost two years. About where I was and what I was being used for. About his feelings for me.

“That’s not something you get to ask.”

I feel a hand grabbing my forearm on my other side and snap my head toward Mikhail. It’s too late, he’s got a syringe aimed at my arm.

“No,” I panic, attempting to pull out of his hold and bringing myself closer to Viktor on the other side. “Don’t.” I turn my gaze to Viktor.

He holds me still, both his hands on my shoulders. “You’re being a pain,” he says matter-of-factly.

“There’s no need. Vik—”

The prick in the fold of my arm startles me and then I can feel the tranquilizer spilling into my veins. I can taste the drug at the back of my throat as it turns my body lethargic.

“Sleep,” Viktor says softly as he pushes hair off my face.

“I don’t want to sleep.” My voice is slurred as the car starts tilting. “I want…to go back…”

“Ssh,” he says as my head falls against him. He wraps an arm around me. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

His hands on me feel good.

And his warm breath against my cold skin is reassuring.

So I let myself fall.

I feel myself flying at some point. A blurred ceiling above my head. Steps resonating to infinity in my head.

Softness.

A voice reverberates. I groan when it asks if I’m awake.

A hand in my hair and one on my stomach. Soft words in my ear.

Then darkness again.

I know when the drugs have worn off because of the pounding headache and dehydration. I twist and turn, understanding I’m in a bed and, finally, I open my eyes.

There’s a window and open curtains. They’re a midnight blue, thick with gold threads.

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