Isabelle #2
I think of every time I touched him, teased him, tried to get him to touch me back. All the messy, complicated feelings that have been building between us. The most insane, romantic, chaotic thing that's ever happened to me with a man, and it's all been built on a lie.
"I'm sorry." His voice drops, and he sounds so fucking tired it would almost make me hurt for him, if I weren't so angry. "I know that doesn't mean anything. I know it doesn't change what I did. But I'm sorry, Isabelle. I'm so fucking sorry."
"Sorry." I laugh sharply. "You're sorry. You were hired to kill me, you seduced me, you made me trust you, you made me—"
I stop and swallow hard. "You made me feel safe. You made me feel protected. You made me think that maybe—that maybe there was something real between us. And it was all a lie."
"It wasn't all a lie. Isabelle, please, you have to understand—" He rises up, as if he's going to come to me, and I grab some of my clothing and back away.
"Don't touch me! Don't you dare fucking touch me!"
He stops. His hand drops, and the devastation on his face makes me want to hurt him the way he's hurt me.
"Every moment we've shared," I say, my voice shaking with rage and grief.
"Every conversation. Every touch. Every time you looked at me like I mattered—it was all built on a lie.
You were supposed to kill me, Julian. You were supposed to murder me. And instead you—you—"
"I started to care about you. I wasn't supposed to. I've never felt like that for anyone. But I…"
The words should make this hurt less, but they don't. "You care about the woman you were hired to kill. How romantic."
"Isabelle—"
"No." I shake my head as I start to yank my clothing back on. "No. You don't get to make this about your feelings. You don't get to tell me you feel something for me and expect that to fix this. You lied to me. You've been lying to me since the moment you recognized me in Ibiza."
"I know."
"Every kiss was a lie. Every time you touched me…"
"That's not—"
"Yes, it is!" I scream as I yank my clothing into place. "That's exactly what it is! You were hired to murder me, Julian. Someone paid you to end my life. And instead of telling me the truth, you made me trust you. You made me depend on you. You made me—"
I can't say it. I can't admit out loud what I was starting to feel for him. But he knows. I can see it in his eyes.
"I never meant to hurt you," he says quietly. "I was trying to keep you alive."
"By lying to me. By making me think you were something you're not."
"I am exactly what I am. I'm a killer, Isabelle. I've been a killer for years. I've murdered more people than I can count. I'm not a good man. I've never pretended to be. But with you, I pretended so that I could do one good thing, so I could help you…"
"I don't believe you. I don't believe anything you say anymore."
He flinches like I've struck him, and I'm glad. I want him to hurt the way I'm hurting.
"I need you to listen to me." His voice is urgent now. "There are assassins actively hunting you. They're professionals, and they're closing in. Without my protection—"
"Your protection." I laugh. "Your protection is a lie."
"It's not a lie. The danger is real. If you leave—"
"I don't care." I start toward the door. "I don't care about the danger. I don't care about the assassins. I don't care about anything except getting away from you."
"Isabelle, please—"
"I never want to see you again! Do you understand? I never want to see you again. I'd rather take my chances alone than spend another second with you."
"You'll die." He sounds desperate now. "Without my help, you'll be dead within days."
"Then I'll die. At least I'll die knowing the truth. At least I won't die thinking someone cared about me when they were just—just—" I can't finish. He was supposed to kill me. And instead, he made me fall for him while lying through his teeth the entire time.
"You don't understand what you're up against." Julian's voice is urgent now, pleading. "These aren't amateurs, Isabelle. They're professionals, and they will find you."
"Fine. I don't care anymore." I shove my feet into my shoes and grab the door handle. "At least they're not making me trust them while planning my murder!"
"I wasn't planning your murder. I refused the contract once I knew. I chose you over everything—my reputation, my life, my entire fucking existence. I chose you."
"You chose to lie to me. You chose to manipulate me. You chose to make me think I was safe when I was sleeping next to the man who was hired to kill me."
"I was keeping you safe—" Julian stares at me, and I can see the devastation on his face, the desperate need to fix this. But there's no fixing this. There's no coming back from this level of betrayal.
"Isabelle." He takes a step toward me, his hand outstretched. "Please. Just listen—"
"Don't touch me." I yank the door open. "Don't come near me. Don't follow me. Just—just leave me alone."
"I can't do that. If I leave you alone, you'll die."
"I don't care!" Tears spill over my lashes. I hate that I'm crying in front of him, but I can't seem to stop. My emotions are out of control, and I just need to get out of this room. "I don't care anymore! I just want to get away from you! I'd rather be dead than be with you."
He flinches like I've struck him. For a moment, his expression looks utterly broken, like I've reached in and torn out his heart. I stare at him, at this man who was hired to kill me and chose not to. Who's been protecting me while lying to me. Who's risking everything to keep me alive.
And I hate him. I hate him for lying, and manipulating me, and making me trust him. For making me fall for him while knowing the truth the entire time.
I hate him for being exactly what he is—a killer who was hired to end my life.
So I run. Down the hallway, my footsteps echoing on the cheap carpet, past other hotel room doors, past the elevator, toward the stairs. I take them two at a time, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
I don't have a plan. I know by now that using my credit cards will leave a trail, and truthfully, deep down, I know Julian is right. Without him, I'm a dead woman.
But I can't stand being near him a moment longer.
I burst out of the stairwell into the hotel lobby, then push through the front doors and out into the Prague night.
My vision is blurred, and my chest is tight, and I can barely breathe.
But I keep running, away from the hotel, Julian…
everything, until my feet hurt and my lungs burn and my tears finally run dry.
I fell for a man who was hired to kill me, and now I'm alone in a foreign city with assassins hunting me and no one to protect me.
But at least I know the truth now.