Chapter 25
Daphne
My body trembles with regret. Skin heated with shame, the weight of the night sinking me further as I drown in my misery.
I lie there still as a statue, pretending to be asleep but I'm as awake as a livewire. I clutch the sheets around me, squeezing my frustration into them.
Alexei's engaged.
It all made sense—the way he'd changed the moment he saw that man in the living room, the harsh way he'd told me to leave. His eyes had turned dark, devoid of emotion, as though I were looking at a completely different person.
I couldn't understand much of what the two men outside were talking about. Most of it was in Russian, until the older man spoke in English, loud enough for me to eavesdrop.
I heard him encouraging Alexei to marry some Lorenzo's daughter. The rest of it was a blurred mix of English and Russian, but one thing stood clear—Alexei was meant to marry someone.
I couldn't believe my ears, not after what happened between us just hours before, in his club...
I hate him so much it burns my eyes, making my vision blurry. How could he do that to me? How could he touch me, kiss me, make me feel all sorts of things, when he had someone else all along?
I'm so angry that my body shakes, stirring the sheets around me. I feel used, cheated, stupid...so utterly stupid because I enjoyed every minute of his hands on me. I wanted him to touch me again and again, until we were interrupted by the man in the living room.
He must be Alexei's father, although I'm not sure because they look nothing alike. While Alexei is tall, slightly tanned and toned to unrealistic perfection, his father is pale , hunched over and much slimmer in build. Even their features are different.
I clutch the sheets tighter. If that really was his father then Alexei must get his good looks from his mother. His shitty attitude, though? I'm not so sure.
Everything goes quiet outside and the lights are switched off. I hear him retreating upstairs—the evil bastard who used me like I was nothing.
I hope he chokes in his sleep. I hope he falls off the bed and hits his head on the hard wood floors. I hope he...I can't think of anything else for now, all I know is that I want him to suffer like I am.
I'll never forgive him for leading me on while he's betrothed to another woman.
I can't sleep. I'm too angry, too frustrated. I feel so trapped.
After waiting long enough, I decide to get up and do something about it. My footsteps are silent as I pad over to the door and gently pry it open. I peek outside into the darkness and look at the clock on the wall.
It's two in the morning. He should be asleep by now, shouldn't he?
I can't take another second in this place. Not here. Not with him. I walk up the stairs silently, hoping to continue my search in the study. My phone must be somewhere around there, I just know it.
My cheeks heat when I remember him pinning me against the window in that VIP room. The way he touched me when he asked why I was snooping around in his study. The fact that it triggered such a strong reaction means there must be something in there I can use.
Thankfully, the floors here are carpeted. It's easy to hurry along the corridor towards the study. I quickly glance at his bedroom door, relieved that the lights are off.
It's only when I reach the door to his study do I curse inwardly. I'd completely forgotten the hair clip I used to pick the lock before. It's somewhere downstairs and I take a step back reluctantly.
Oh, what the hell. Might as well try my luck. My fingers lock around the smooth metal doorknob and I turn it softly. The resounding click surprises me.
Did he forget to lock it?
The penthouse is eerily silent. I almost hesitate, looking back in the direction of Alexei's room, hoping to God that he's fast asleep. Maybe he's dreaming about Lorenzo's daughter.
Anger surges through me again and I step inside. I leave the door open slightly and hurry over to his desk, knowing exactly where I want to look. The third drawer was locked, it must be where he keeps my phone and belongings.
All I need is my phone. Then I can call the girls. Elizabeth will know what to do. She always does.
It's so dark in here but I dare not switch on the lights. I look under the sprawling mahogany desk, fingers traversing the underside, hoping to find the hidden key. There's nothing. No obvious bumps, no key strapped to any part of it, no crack or crevice where something could be hidden.
I yank on the third drawer, wanting to rip it out of the desk. After trying and failing, I lean back against the cabinet behind me, staring at the small golden keyhole that's keeping me from whatever's inside.
This isn't a key hole I'm familiar with. Can I unpick it?
My pulse is racing and I'm constantly looking at the door, hoping Alexei doesn't walk in all of a sudden.
A loud crash suddenly echoes from afar, making me jump and hit my head against the edge of the cabinet. I rub my throbbing head and stand up abruptly, panic racing through me like a bolt of lightning.
What the hell was that? Is Alexei awake?
I tiptoe to the door and peer outside, my fingers digging into the wooden door. I glance at the slit underneath Alexei's bedroom door. It's still dark.
Another crash echoes from his room, this one louder than the last. I clutch the door shakily, wondering what is happening.
I don't hear him. I can't tell if he's in danger or throwing a temper tantrum. Should I help? Should I ignore it? My body's frozen like a statue, unsure of what to do.
Silence ensues, suffocating me in this darkened corridor. What should I do? What should I do?
I hear some shuffling again and the sound of a glass shattering. Oh fuck it. I rush to his room and open the door all the while praying that I'm not making a mistake.
The room is dark with only a sliver of moonlight peeking through the blinds. My brows furrow when I see the empty bed and sheets that look like they've been ripped off the bed. The bed side lamp lies on the floor and a small cabinet has toppled over.
I then hear heavy breathing from the bathroom and a soft choking sound.
What the hell is happening?
I rush to the bathroom and peer inside, half expecting Alexei to snap at me or tell me to get out of here like he did before. What I don't expect is to see him sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.
"Alexei?" I whisper. I walk over and bend down in front of him. His skin is shiny, beats of sweat coat his skin even though the air is chilly and his body is trembling.
He's gritting his teeth when he looks up at me. He blinks profusely like he can't see me and then he shuts his eyes and grips his head tightly, pulling at his thick dark hair.
I hold on to the hands clutching his head. "What's wrong, Alexei?"
He shakes his head and then grits out. "N-nothing."
It's clearly not nothing. I hold on to his hands as he grips his hair tight enough to pull out a few strands. I drag them away from his head and force him to look me in the eye.
"Let me take you to the doctor," I say worriedly. This can't be normal. He's sweating bricks and shaking like a leaf.
His eyes are closed but his forehead is creased, like he's in a tremendous amount of pain.
"You need to see a doctor, Alexei." I repeat, gripping his hands tightly before he yanks out more hair.
He grunts and snaps his eyes shut, wincing. "You'd like tha-att wouldn't you. Get-tting out of this place."
I sigh, releasing him and proceed to stand up but he grabs my arm, stopping me.
He nods to the half open cabinet underneath the sink. "There. Hand me...one..vial. Careful...the-re's bro-ken glass."
I try my best to avoid the shattered glass in front of the sink and pull the cabinet door open. There are numerous vials arranged neatly in a row. I pull out one, studying the label.
It reads diclofenac sodium.
"In-jec-tion." He grits out from behind me and I grab one syringe and rip open the packet.
Unsure of what to do exactly, I hand them over to him and he expertly draws the liquid out with the syringe and immediately injects himself with it. I flinch at the sight. His eyes were half shut the entire time.
It makes me wonder how many times he's done this before.
What's wrong with him? Does he have some sort of disease? Now I feel guilty for wishing him harm earlier.
After a few seconds his shoulders drop and his hand falls to the floor. For a heart stopping second, I wonder if he's dead and I almost leap at him to shake him awake, but then he shifts, sitting up straighter.
I almost sigh in relief when he looks up at me, blinking.
"Thanks," he says stiffly, looking away as he pulls himself up. He stumbles slightly and I panic, reaching out for him.
"Ow," I mutter as a sharp piercing pain reverberates from under my foot. I'd completely forgotten about the shattered glass on the floor.
"Didn't I warn you about the glass," he grumbles and before I can stop him, he swoops me up in his arms and walks unsteadily to the bed.
"Stop. You shouldn't be doing this in your condition. I'm fine. It's just a scratch," I argue, swinging my legs around so that he'd put me down.
"Stop wriggling like a worm." He dumps me on the bed and rummages through the small bedside table next to us. He pulls out a tweezer, a bottle of liquid and a box of plasters, but I notice his movements are sloppy, like he's drunk.
"I can do it myself," I say, trying to take it from him. He looks like he's about to collapse at any second, but he grabs my foot stubbornly and crouches on the floor.
"Lights." He commands and the lights turn on around us, making him wince.
He frowns deeply and it's obvious he's still in pain, the lights making it worse somehow. I try to pull away, feeling guilty for causing him more pain, but he holds my foot in a vice like grip. He uses the tweezer to pull out the speck of glass embedded in skin and I wince.
He opens the bottle, dabs it with a swab and wipes it over my wound before securing a plaster over it. Again his movements are practiced, automatic, like he's done this many times before.
"Light's off," he commands and once again the room is bathed in darkness. He then puts everything back and proceeds to lie down next to me, his body grazing mine. I turn around and watch him close his eyes, the slow and steady rise of his chest as he breathes.
"Don't go into the bathroom again," he murmurs and I nod, unsure if I want to leave him alone after what happened. I'm about to move when he places a hand above mine gently, the subtle movement making my heart clench.
"Just sleep here. You can't walk anyway." He doesn't release me, and I stay like that for a long moment, the exhaustion of the night slowly sinking in, my eyelids growing heavier. I suddenly remember why I was up here to begin, but my anger has dulled.
The longer I stare at Alexei sleeping peacefully, the harder it becomes to hate him. I pull my hand out from under his and walk over to the other side of the bed.
I sit down again and stare at him, wondering why he was in so much pain. Does he have a disease? Is he dying?
Conflicting emotions churn inside me as I lie down, watching him in silence, my every breath following the slow rise and fall of his chest.
I don't remember when I fall asleep.