Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Ravil shuts the door and taps the top of the car.
“Natasha,” Dima croaks, finally loosening his grip on me.”Are you okay? Are you hurt?” With one arm still around my back, he pulls away to examine my face. When he strokes my hair, I jerk back, tears burning my eyes.
“Don’t.”
“Please, Natasha.” Regret washes over Dima’s expression. “I’m so sorry—for everything. Can we talk?”
I take a step back, my legs starting to feel more sturdy. “No. I’m done, Dima.” I don’t feel angry any more. Just so damn tired.
I can’t get on the rollercoaster with him again.
Never again.
He blinks, his face pale.
“I’m not going to let myself be used anymore, and I can’t be your fall-back friend. Please respect my wishes and leave me alone.”
“You’re not my fall-back, Natasha. Listen—”
“No,” I say firmly, putting my hands on his chest and giving it a shove. “I can’t do this.” I’m fighting tears, and I really don’t want the whole gang seeing me cry over Dima. How pathetic can I get?
“Nikolai will take you home.” He touches my elbow then pulls his hand back like he’s afraid to touch me.
It feels wrong even though it’s what I just asked for.
“Thank you,” I whisper. The two words encompass so much—gratitude for what we shared and goodbye.
He shakes his head like he’s not accepting it, but Nikolai pulls up the ramp like he knew the plan, and Dima walks to the passenger side and opens the door for me.
I get in without a word.
Leaving the cabin felt like a test, but this time, it’s really over.
19
Dima
After lying on my bed staring at the ceiling all night, I stay in my bedroom instead of going to the kitchen in search of breakfast.
I can’t be around anyone. I want to throat-punch Ravil and Maxim for coming up with any plan that involved putting Natasha in danger.
Bozhe moi, I will never get the image of that gun at her head out of my brain.
And knowing it was my fault?
Ruins me.
She didn’t want to go, and I made her. And look how it turned out.
I sink onto my bed and stare into the darkness.
The worst of it? Natasha thinks I used her. That literally makes me want to shoot my nuts off. She compared me to Pamela Harrison.
Nothing could be farther from the truth.
She was never my fall-back girlfriend. It wasn’t a love-the-one-you’re-with situation. Not even close. She rocked my world the moment I first met her.
Maybe that’s what scared me so badly.
I didn’t want her to mean more to me than Alyona had because that, even more than the promise I’d made to her, made me feel unfaithful.
And now I can’t even tell Natasha any of those things because she asked me to respect her wishes and stay away.
I couldn’t have fucked things up more with her.
The irony isn’t lost on me that I wasn’t ready to open my heart until the day she closed hers.
I’m not giving up, but I don’t have a fucking clue where to start.
I can’t hack back into her heart. I can’t solve this one behind my computer.
I’m not lame enough to try to text her how I feel. I need to show her somehow. But what would prove I’m not using her? That I’ve changed and I’m ready to go all in?
I have absolutely no fucking clue.
It’s possible I need help. Honestly, I’d rather throw myself down the elevator shaft than go bare my soul to my roommates, but maybe one of the women can tell me what to do.
That’s it, I just need someone to tell me what to do.
I head into the main living area of the penthouse, which seems like a foreign place after spending the week with Natasha. It’s familiar, but wrong.
All wrong.
“You look like shit,” Maxim observes. He and Sasha are in the kitchen in their running clothes with their hands all over each other. “Seriously. You look as bad as Nikolai.”
“Thanks.” I drift toward the breakfast bar, inviting more abuse.
“So what’s the story with Natasha?” Sasha demands. She’s not the type to ever stay out of anyone’s business, but for once, I’m almost grateful for the intrusion.
Still, I have no answer. I shrug, weakly.
“She said you preferred a ghost over a living, breathing woman. What gives?”
I shake my head then nod. That assessment kills me, but to Natasha, probably seems accurate. No wonder she feels like the fall-back friend.
“I said goodbye to my ghost,” I tell Sasha, my voice cracking. I plunk down on the barstool in front of her. “But I think it was too late. Now she won’t talk to me.”
Story and Oleg emerge from their bedroom and gather behind me, both of them projecting kindness and sympathy. At the same time, Lucy emerges from Ravil’s bedroom in a short robe, baby Benjamin cooing on her hip.